Order And Chaos: A Superpower RP (Started, Closed)

[Almighty Words]

snip

MO' Snip

Well for starters the character is interesting if a bit spontaneous.

The age isn't much of a problem really there are lots of hundreds or thousand year old people in here apparently so I think that aspecct of the story is excusable. But and this is a doozy I think you made the mistake that alot of folks make, the power of the character isn't what is important but the weakness I know you glossed over the fire thing but a good character has more flaws than pluses. That last sentence kinda reeks of opinion but when you make your character an:

Implacable
Immortal
Wind Chucking
Scythe master

It's pretty hard to not power play that and being a villian I can see him being a bit more long lasting than a random mook but I think the Wind power is not really needed. It also makes the character more intriguing imagine if you will. When the village was still dying people would carry torches and candles at night, and on the moons slivers the faintest shadows could be seen dancing in the pale lights a few villagers are agape at a long dark figure in the distance a few thrown torches later and what appears to be a pile of now burning straw is shown re-amassing it self after the burnt straw as subsided using the earth and the foliage around it self to become the monster Robin has been changed into once more.. Robin could effectively be the prototypical horror movie monster in villian form never ceasing, never stopping, and quite deadly. But the power to not only be virtually untouchable but as well remove his only weakness though use of what I'm sure will be a tool almost always with him is a bit much.

SO suggestions

First Add the weaknesses in typed form so he seems more "believable for a scarecrow man?"
Then like said above the story is a bit rushed he didn't believe like the others but the first option to come around he just said "okay cool" I think skepticism would be a major character point in his life.
But that's just my two cents

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

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I like this character man, but I see two problems with it: One, he doesn't seem to have any reason to ever go out of Iron Hide mode, and two, he doesn't seem particularly supervillainous. Reading the bio it seems to suggest he's more along the lines of a legitimate arms dealer and manufacturer like Remington than the Yuri Orlov type, arming terrorists and rogue states.

Well, I'm actually making a few revisions as we speak. I see what you mean, though. But I think the simplest reason for why he doesn't stay in Iron Hide mode is because they don't have his size in suits. Not even at the Big'n'Tall store. As for the lack of Orlovness, I just gotta switch out PMCs for "terrorists and rogue states", though he's the type who would make sure both sides are armed enough to keep the fighting going. Thank you very much for the input.

 

[TheIronRuler]

*coughs loudly*
So.... How are you doing?

Spoiler: El Cid

Name: Manny Rodriguez

Alias: El Cid

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Appearance: Manny stands at 1.7 meters and weighs approx. 80 kgs. He has broad shoulders and a square jaw resting on a short neck. His dark hair is cut short, his eyes are brown, and his borderline unappealing hairiness forces him to shave once a day or suffer a short beard by the end of the week. He has a tanned skin covering a visibly muscular body. He usually wears his work clothes - blue overalls, and black Nike shoe he found at a locker-room one day. Otherwise he would wear one of his black t-shirts under a white undershirt with short grey or brown trousers. He wore a golden mask when he was starting out, but nowadays a proper change of clothes and a shaved chin fools most of the eye witnesses.

Personality: Manny is a hothead. He usually jumps into a situation head-first and is easily provoked. He protects his dearest friends and family fiercely and considers them the most important thing in his life. Manny is deeply religious, and as a catholic he respects clergymen and the word of the pope. He attends Mass and goes on to confessing his sins to his priest frequently. He's naïve and his world view parts the world into two sides ? sinners and saints, black and white. This hurts him most when dealing with situations were neither is clear, sometimes an issue that leads to unfortunate consequences. He's sociable, outgoing and loud. He changes completely in the presence of people he respects, like his family and his priest, becoming quiet and calm.

Alignment: Superhero.

Superpowers: (Due to an accident) Broken brain chemistry which allows for Manny to have inhuman reflexes (and increased speeds) when his heart rate is very high. This power can be useful and switched into gear after a short time of effort, but staying with said power turned on for too long burdens Manny's heart. If he pushes too far his heart might just explode in his chest, while health issues related to his heart do haunt his everyday life because of that power.

Unnaturally hardened bones(capable of surviving hits, make his physical attacks stronger).

Weaknesses: Manny is a hot-head. He's a danger to himself and sometimes others around him and would gladly jup in a fight without thinking. This also makes his power spontaniously pop up when he doesn't need to, a habbit he had been trying to fight since his first heart attack at the age of 26.

Manny is deeply religious and follows the church's decrees. He views the world in black and white and has trouble in dealing with some people he can't label.

Manny is susceptible to all natural weapons including firearms, though his bones almost never break.

He cares for his close family and friends dearly, and would protect them whatever it takes.

Manny sees good people as those he needs to protect and bad as those he needs to vanquish. This sometimes outs him in an awkward position when he has to choose between the two. He usually goes for saving the good.

Biography: Manny was born to a single Mexican illegal immigrant working in Arizona in a small town. She was a maid at the town's only motel and would have her and Manny live in that motel. Manny grew up in a poor home. Manny was dropped by his mother as a child, sustaining a blow to the head. The doctors managed to save him after a lot of work, but they were baffled when Manny appeared to be perfectly healthy. The impact did not break his skull as they had expected due to his hardened bones, but it did turn shatter some items in his brain. From there on, Manny had suffered trouble with his heart, accompanied by a strange sensation when he gets overexcited or in a bad situation. As he grew older he learned more about using this weird phenomenon only he has, all the while receiving worrying chest pains at such an early age.

Manny used to spend most of his time playing catch, fighting other children and riding his bicycle around town (One that he doesn't even own). He would frequently get injured but he never did need to be hospitalized once, something that helped his mother's poor financial situation. His way of life continued till his third year of high-school where the school's principal was close to expelling him. A senior teacher advised the principal to give Manny another chance, and so he did. That was the gym teacher, and as both knew a week after that talk he was talking rubbish. The gym teacher had wanted to start a boxing team in the school for years, and he had been eyeing Manny for that very reason. Manny had to do his coach's bidding and try to recruit his more lively and violent friends into the team, an act that, after almost a year of training, catapulted the team of young boys into the national stage. The strange phenomenon he had encountered during his childhood became a prized possession in his fighting matches, and Manny led the team to victory. That attracted attention to the boy and his illegal status, but his excellence in sports and surprisingly impeccable record allowed the state to grant him his USA citizenship.

Manny had a younger sister he loved and protected from local boys that feared his wrath. When he got older, Manny got more into boxing while his injuries seemed to have little effect on him besides internal bleeding, cuts and bruises. His fists were also notoriously deadly as he later found out his knuckles were naturally stronger than the other fighters. As he progressed, Manny became more distant from his friends and family and dabbled more in matters of his career. When a funeral of his good friend called him to visit home he decided that his carrier mattered less than being with his loved ones. Manny had taken a job in the old school he used to be in as a janitor, though he sometimes drives to the big city and does a boxing match or two for sports and a decent payday.

He had lived that way for the past four years, though recurring visits to the city's underbelly made the man feel wring whenever he entered the city. After consulting with his priest he believed that he should work towards a better society and try to show those lost souls the path of Christ and help them off the street. That resolution ended badly as he was stabbed twice in a fight against three men armed with knives, a fight that also ended in their demise. Even though he was first charged with manslaughter, the charges were dropped after two weeks when police found the case to be simply an act of self defense. It was then that Manny knew he had to help those people another way and that he had to keep his identity a secret. He wore a silver mask common with Mexican wrestling and ran around the streets of the city literally stopping crime. After each encounter he would come to his priest back at his home town for confessing his sins and if necessary, tending to his wounds.

He learned of the consequences of his powers after he had his first heart attack at the age of 26. Ever since he had been trying to use that power as little as possible, though when push comes to shove Manny knows when to strike back, and strike hard.

Other notes: He's bi-lingual with Spanish and English. The nickname he gave himself reminds him of an old tale he heard from his mother when he was a child, but know he doesn't remember what the name means.

 

[Lambi]

[HEADING=2]Attention, everyone:[/HEADING]​

Just as a reminder again, and so that everyone will know, I will be closing applications in less than 24 hours. Once I do that, I will start accepting people.

 

[nuba km]

Looking forward to see who makes it.

 

[Spoon498]

So is it closed now?! Can't wait to see this get started!

 

[Lambi]

So is it closed now?! Can't wait to see this get started!

It's not closed now, no. It will close in less than 20 hours from now. If there are more people who want to post sheets, they can. But once I close, I won't accept any more applications and will start looking for the sheets I want to have join the RP.

 

[Spoon498]

Yes that's my bad. I forget sometimes that I'm a day ahead of everyone when I get on here. Sometimes I get confused ><

 

[Lambi]

[HEADING=2]Applications are now closed.[/HEADING]​

I will now start going through the sheets to find which characters I want to have join the RP. Just hang on tight and be patient. I will quote your sheet post if I accept your character.

And another thing I want to mention is that I may accept more characters than I originally intended to, because of things that I'm planning.

In the meanwhile, you can take a look at my own character, which I didn't finish until recently, and felt it was better to post after I closed applications.

Spoiler: Virus

Name: Unknown
Alias: Virus

Gender: Male
Age: Unknown

Appearance: Virus has gray skin and empty looking eyes, white as snow. He's got short white hair on the top of his head, but no hair anywhere else. He's tall, being around 7 feet, but weight is always changing due to his assimilating powers. He does not wear clothes, but he doesn't have any distinquishing features in his nether regions. He looks to have some form of muscle on him, not looking like a wrestler on steroids, but not looking frail either. His skin has hardened over time due to all the technology assimilation he's done, but you can still wound him, just not with conventional melee weapons. He's got some kind of lines all over his body which show something moving along them which is green in color. He's usually seen with whatever latest technology he's assimilated into his body. When he needs to charge, his fingers and back open up to reveal charge-slots which he inserts the chargelines into. The charge slots in his fingers also double as a technological key, giving him access to most technology aside from the higher level locked ones.

Personality: Virus is as cold as can be. He doesn't care what happens around him so long as he makes sure others know he's the one in charge around. He never allows himself to show any kind of emotion or expression when around others, his eyes giving a cold look towards everyone. He doesn't hesitate to kill, though he does seem to take some sick enjoyment out of making others suffer with his disease mimicry. Not that he'd allow anyone to see it, of course, but you get the feeling he does once you see him do it. He will show emotion should you hurt him, but aside from that, he remains as emotionless and cold as he can. He likes to speak in Royal We, that is to say, referring to himself in plural, as if he were a part of some sort of legion, thinking very highly of himself.

Alignment: Supervillain

Superpowers: Virus is capable of agility which surpasses most, if not all, other humans. It allows him to dodge almost everything thrown his way, and to scale anything he can so long as he's able to get a grip. He sprints quickly and should he be faced with an obstacle, he'll leap over it like it was nothing. In a fight he'll be able to dodge easily due to calculating where the hit will go, but this isn't fully accurate, so he is hittable. He just evades most things well.

Virus is also able to assimilate most technology he can find and use it immediately due to training his skill well. So long as he's able to touch it, at least. If he were to assimilate a computer, he would go over all the files in it at a great speed in order to find what he wanted. If he were to assimilate a tool, he would be able to use it without direct electricity as it would have been intended to, but it would use up his charge a bit faster than if he didn't use it. Almost everything that he's assimilated over time he is able to use again so long as he remembers he has it.

Virus doesn't call himself Virus for no reason. He is able to mimick and spread various diseases, illnesses and viruses. He does need to be in close range to even spread it via air, but he will do it and he will not hesitate. He's also able to combine his technological assimilation and disease mimicry abilities to create devastating computer viruses.

Weaknesses: Virus is not without his limits. Due to being part technology, liquid is not friendly to him. He can't be completely soaked in it without it fucking him up and making him helpless, but he can withstand a small amount for a short time. Should it rain, he would stay inside rather than risk it outside.

Again, due to being part technology, he mostly needs to charge in order to be any sort of threat, and that charge can last him a very long time, three or four days at least if he uses it a lot, a week at best if he does little to use it. That however is a problem for him. He relies so much on his technology, that when his charge runs out, he has to rely on his human side. While his human side is strong and agile, it isn't as strong and agile as his technological side, and if he has to use his human side, he will only use it to get back to his station as quickly as he can to charge again.

He is also vulnerable while charging, because it takes around 24 hours or so if he's run out of charge. He has taken measures to ensure that he's safe while charging, but if anyone would get through those measures, he'd be at his most vulnerable, though only at first while charging because he has such low charge when he's run out of it and has to wait until he's at about 10% before he can do anything else.

Biography: Anything after Virus was made into what he is today is unknown. It got deleted from his memory because of a certain event that he doesn't remember now. But what he has forgotten is certainly interesting.

Virus used to be just a normal man, living a normal life, working a normal job. Or as normal as can be, considering he worked as a test subject for various experiments at a laboratory. It was never anything lethal that the scientists there did to him, at least not at first. Some pills that made you grow scales, but retracted them along with all your nails after a few minutes. That was a painful day in his job. Another experiment involved a drug that enhanced your speed, but problems with it was that you couldn't sleep. Had to stay like that until he could eventually urinate the drug out. There were other boring experiments, like growing hair all over his body, giving him laser-shooting eyes, which was only boring because of how much they'd done that before but were never able to not make the eyes of previous subjects burn out literally, although that ability disappeared after a week, and making him grow horns on his head, which strangely made him also grow longer and stronger nails, apparently a side effect.

You might wonder why he did such a thing. The truth of the matter was, he had nothing to risk. He was alone, having moved away from his parents at the age of 20 and living well enough for a while. Until five years later when a tornado went over his parent's small hometown and everything was destroyed. He was never the same after that. He'd been an only child, since his mother had only been able to birth him before she became sterile. It was a disease in her family that she'd hoped wouldn't happen to her, but even so, they had treated their son with care. He didn't know what to do with himself now that he was alone in the world. He wasn't bad looking, but he hadn't found a woman who he'd fall for, though he'd met a fair number of women who he was certain would never be able to make him happy.

He roamed around the streets, wandering aimlessly while knowing not what to do. What could he do? He'd lost the only family he had. He was willing to do anything to bring them back, but sadly, he couldn't find a way. And even if he could, they might not even be the same after that, so what was the point? They were gone. No longer a part of this world. The sorrow filled him all over, not letting him get a moment's rest. Finally, he had had enough and was willing to jump off a building when a man stopped him and offered him to become a test subject, since they could always need more subjects and he would get handsomely paid. The money he didn't care for, but if he could help society in some way, even a little, he'd do it. With that, he started his life as a test subject.

One day after around two decades since he became a test subject, however, they started to take bigger, more lethal risks. The scientists injected yet another drug into him that they felt was perfected for the purpose of the experiment, and it proved to be right of them to do so. He now had enhanced agility, which he tested out against numerous obstacles that the scientists had made for him. He ran quickly over a spiky field, avoiding all spikes that came out of the walls and floor. He dodged lasers with ease, bullets were a bit of a problem, but not unavoidable, and he could climb walls so long as he could get a good grip. This, however, was the start of his mutation. You see, what no one knew was that the drug was messing with his brain, slowly yet effectively. It wasn't making him crazy, but it did slowly make him uncaring and foul. However, the scientists didn't notice because the effect was going over so slowly, they just kept with experimenting.

They tested his agility again, but this time he got hurt badly on one of the lasers. They brought him a drug that made his skin heal, but it had a nasty side effect they didn't anticipate. The skin healing effect lasted for about a week, but in the meanwhile, he gained another power. He gained the ability to assimilate technology. He found out when he touched one of the computers and started to fuse with it. He wasn't scared, since he figured it was just another effect of one of the experiments, but he still found it interesting. He tried it with one of the laser machines, and found that he now had a laser on his hand. But since this was a new thing for him, he couldn't control the laser. The scientists found out, and found it really interesting. They gave him different sets of technological equipment, and with each of them, he became more and more able to control his power and use the equipment he was handed. Once the skin healing went away, they thought his technology assimilation would as well. Imagine their surprise when he assimilated one of the fridges by accident.

Still he became more uncaring, never bothering to do small talk with the scientists like he had done before, just doing the experiments because he had to. He and the scientists noticed that whenever he assimilated, his skin got a little more shade of gray. Interesting, but totally useless to him as of that moment. Yet another experiment they had for him was to expose him to radiation, not just for the heck of it, but they wanted to see how long he could withstand it. They didn't anticipate that most of the experiments they'd done on him over the years would rebel against his body, making his body develop various diseases which would kill any ordinary man. When they got him away from the radiation, they had to put on suits to not get exposed themselves, because Virus was now glowing. They got him to a room which was safe and kept him there, trying to find a way to cure him. They kept an eye on him occasionally, but what they didn't know is that he was planning to escape and used every opportunity he could to control this newfound power. With time, his diseases seemingly disappeared and they let him out of the room.

However, he wasn't as happy to see them as they were to see him alright. He managed to grab one of the scientists and inject him with one of the many diseases he had inside of him, causing the man's throat to swell up at an alarming rate and made him suffocate because he couldn't breath. The others tried to hold him down while one of them looked for a way to detain him, but they couldn't. One touch of him meant that they were endangering themselves and thus he could spread more diseases towards them. Once the two that were on him were out of the way, only two remained. They were scared of him. They fled, not looking back to see how close he was. However, they'd forgotten his enhanced agility, which made it easy for him to catch up to them. He grabbed one, mimicking an illness that made his eyes bleed and his head to feel like it was exploding. He was as good as dead, yet he wasn't allowed to die just yet. The last one managed to escape outside, but realized what he'd done in his fear. He'd let out a monster. Virus quickly caught up with him and fired the laser he had previously assimilated when he first discovered his assimilating power. The scientist couldn't escape and with a few shots from the laser, he was killed.

He was free. He could do what he wanted. He had new motivation. He would assimilate all the technology into his body in order to take revenge on the world for what had been done to him, having forgotten because of the agility enhancing drug why he was there in the first place. But, there was something he would do before doing that. He went back into the lab to assimilate all he could, his skin turning more and more gray, and the clothes on his back being torn apart because assimilating technology is not friendly to clothes. Side effects of the assimilation were showing, as his gender became unclear, his nether region becoming like that of a plastic doll, his eyes whitening more until there were no signs of irises or anything other than the whites in his eyes, and his hair becoming white. Once he was done assimilating all he could, he was practically more machine than man. But it came with a price. He now had a charge slot in his back and fingers and he was aware of the energy that flowed in him, like he could see a percentage in his mind. He secluded himself inside the building, working for hours and days on making a charge station for himself so that he wouldn't need to worry. Once he was finished, he sat down on the charging throne he had made for himself, because he wanted to charge in style, and sat there for a long while. He wouldn't need to worry about intruders, since he had also made sure to put traps and devices that would hinder any and all intruders from getting to him and putting an end to him. The world would soon learn to fear the power of Virus, were his last thoughts before his long charge...

Other notes: Virus talks like a mix between a man and a machine, with a constant mechanical monotone which is rarely raised or lowered unless aggravated or hurt.

 

[Lambi]

First, the heroes.

Arlana

Faraday

The Brainstorm

Persephone

Atticus

Waldemar

Spectre

Congratulations to you all. Now, I know that not all of you have had your characters contact/get contacted by Seraphim, but if you'd like to begin your posts with that, once I've made an opening post, you can do that. Otherwise, you're independent heroes who have the option to join Seraphim or not. The ones who did contact/got contacted by Seraphim, your posts can either be them out on some smaller missions or inside the Seraphim building.

Now, the villains.

Red Coyote

Morph

The Way

Werewolf

Leviathan

Congratulations to you all as well. The villains are more freeroaming than the heroes, but I have some plans for them.

Everyone that got accepted should follow the rule I put for Skype and get yourselves Skype if you don't have it, then send me a PM with your Skype username. I will be creating a Skype group for this RP for us to talk in, more likely via text.

Everyone else who didn't get accepted, I thank you for your interest in this RP, and hope you do better elsewhere.

 

[Dr. wonderful]

Hm, all right.

It was fun.

 

[JokerboyJordan]

Not sure about accepting two sheets from one user, but it's your RP man, it's your call.

Thank you for your consideration, and also lack of any kind feedback.

Peace out.

 

[Lambi]

It was a pleasant day today. Crime happened, sure. But Seraphim was quick to dispense heroes to take care of that. Today was a good day, thought Christopher. They'd gotten many heroes recently to join them. Some who were unfortunately homeless, others who simply needed a secure home. But overall, it was looking to be a good day today too. Christopher walked a bit in his office, thinking about some of the missions he had for any new heroes, or veteran ones.

I've got Judge and Russel taking care of Arson in the North. Russel's water powers will come in handy, and Judge is swift enough to save anyone Russel can't keep an eye on. Hmm. I've got a magnetic villain in the Northeast district. Who could I send there? There's also news of a large aquatic creature out in the Atlantic Ocean, terrorizing the seas. A busy day, indeed... A knock on his door was heard and Christopher's train of thought was interrupted. "Come in." he said. A woman, seemingly in her 30's with red hair and a bit of freckles, wearing casual clothes, walked into the office. "I don't know how often I tell you to dress formally here. But I never enforce it, so I'm not surprised." The woman giggled and hugged him. "I'm glad to see you too, father." He hugged her back, then let go and put his hands behind his back. "So, how are you, Christine? What brings you here?" She sat down in one of the chairs in front of his office desk. "I've been good. Just hanging out with friends and working." A small smile came across his face. "I'm glad to hear that. Still not thinking of taking over the business?" She sighed and giggled again. "You know I'm not the office type, dad. Besides, you're better at this, and my interests lie elsewhere." She stood up again, walking around the office before she looked out the window.

"I came here to ask if you could help me." The old man walked over to her and looked outside as well. "Anything, my dear." She sighed with a half-chuckle. "Thanks. I've been having this stalker guy following me around. He thinks I haven't noticed him and I don't know how to deal with him. Just because I can sense him with my power doesn't mean I can fight." He nodded as she stopped. "I'll have someone take care of that. Scan isn't just useful for scanning, as funny as that is. He'll be able to convince that fellow. Just meet him down in the lobby, I'll send for him." Christine hugged him again. "Thank you. I'll see you at dinner with mother and Daniel, right?" He nodded and chuckled. "Of course. I'll be there." She smiled back towards him. "Later, then. Have a good day, father." She walked out the door and left Christopher with a smile. He always liked it when his daughter and son stopped by, even if it was something that he didn't like to hear. He walked to his desk and buzzed towards his secretary. "Have Scan meet my daughter down in the lobby. She'll explain the situation to him" "Right away, sir." could be heard from the other end, a woman's voice. Now he didn't need to worry about his daughter's safety.

Seraphim was a trustworthy building. A tall building, so it was easily found, which was both a pro and a con. Yes, heroes could find them easily. But villains could too, unfortunately. Not that any villain would be stupid enough unless they had backup. It had happened once, but the heroes had thankfully managed to fend them off. They never tried again, especially after more heroes applied. It had pretty much everything for the heroes to live off of. Apartments, many stores of many sorts, great internet connection should they need it, great health-care, and all their staff was at the beck and call of the heroes, so long as they didn't overuse it. Almost all of them had to earn the money for the stores, though. But Christopher didn't charge them for rent, the connection to the internet or the help of his staff. He payed them all, even the ones that didn't do it for the money.

Right now, he had a meeting scheduled with one Waldemar Abel today. Seemed like a capable man, plus he was a doctor, which could come in handy should his own staff not be able to handle things immediately.

[hr]

In another part of town, a sinister being was awakening from his charging. He hadn't needed to put himself in standby mode, but he felt it would have been better. Standing up, Virus disconnected his finger slots from the ten mini-charge slots he had for them, then stood up and released the big one on his back and hid it under his skin. "

[b]Ah, so refreshing. It feels good to be fully charged now. Wonder what we can do now to spread some fear into humankind...[/b]

" He gave a smirk before calmly walking towards the main door, disconnecting the traps between his charging station and the main door. He opened it, and smelled the air, getting a fragrance of mixed burnt rubber, car fumes and factory fumes. "

[b]So destructive to their own bodies. They'll pay for what we became. Filthy creatures, bereft of all that is good and pure. Only we are able to purify the world, with our diseases. The world will know to fear Virus. To flinch every time our name is mentioned. To live in fear, knowing that we may be around the corner, or destroying their precious technology.[/b]

" His smirk left his face as he started working his way towards New York City, which was a few miles from the lab he came from.

 

[Fury Is Me.]

Lina Hartwell was in her apartment room, sitting on her couch watching television. Well, Watching isn't exactly the best word for it. She was just kind of hitting the "Channel up" button repeatedly. She looked zombified in appearance, even though she wasn't pale by many comparisons, though she wasn't tan either. She shook her head and closed her mouth, rbinging herself out of her stupor.

"This is boring. Let's hit another button.", she said. Lina looked down at her extensive and futuristic looking remote. She didn't yet know all the buttons, as the remote was more than a TV remote. It controlled many functions in her room and she had just arrived her around three days ago, still wearing an outfit she had gotten at Wolfen. She found the call button and hit it, wondering what it did. Within minutes, a tall, slender, young man walked in and bowed. "Room service, madame" She Curled back and sprung into the air, only to land on her feet just in front of the young man who was offering her food. That was music to her ears. "What have you got, Skinny? You got any kind of pot roast or spit duck or something fancy like that?" He looked to his left and sighed, obviously unimpressed by her mannerisms. Lina's face sowed a little more displeasure as she caught the hint of disapproval. "We do have both of those, madame... What would you like?".

Lina backed up a bit and put her finger to her chin. "Hmmmmm... Bring me a Pig's head with one of those apples in the mouth!" She bust out laughing, expecting him to tell her that that wasn't something they had. The young man sighed and said "Right away, Madame..." before turning to leave, going to place Lina's order. Lina merely said "Huh." and hopped back onto her couch to resume channel surfing. "This place isn't too bad. Wish I'd get a job though! It gets boring sitting around here and not eating for three days! Wait... That's right, I haven't eaten for three days. Why didn't I? I dunno, who cares. NOW I'M STARVING SINCE I REALIZED IT." Lina was now feeling hunger pains. "Lord... I'll be able to eat that whole pig's head... Oh well. Dinner's gonna be good tonight i suppose. I wonder which one of these buttons calls the chief... Or whatever we call the top dog in this place." She hit a small, square button with no label stationed somewhere towards the middle-right. Her couch pushed her onto a fold-out bed. "...Alrighty then." She said, tossing the remote aside after turning off the TV. She laid back and stared at the ceiling. "Time to do nothing till I get food."

 

[RatRace123]

The armored man was sent flying through the air; a scream of terror could be heard under his helmet. He landed on the rooftop's surface with a crash, his armor scraping across the gravel. The tendril receded back into Werewolf's arm as he slowly walked up to his downed foe, a grim expression on his face. The man was frantically scrambling to reach the gun that was dropped just a few feet in front of him, but he was too late; a two-foot long blade expanded outward from Werewolf's right arm and in an instant the blade was driven through the back of the man's skull.

Werewolf retracted his arm blade and the man's head slumped onto the ground. Werewolf stepped over over the new corpse and looked towards the other two he had slain just a few minutes earlier. They were HEART troops alright, the garish logo on the armor's chest made that abundantly clear.

More HEART goons; where the hell are they coming from? Werewolf thought to himself as he peered over the edge of the skyscraper he was standing on. He looked back at the bodies once more, Well, one way to find out.

And with that, Werewolf dove off the side of the building, sending himself into a freefall. He closed his eyes and let the rush of the wind flow around him as he plummeted for a few stories. After a few more seconds of falling he opened his eyes and quickly shot out a tendril to the nearest rooftop; he could feel the tendril grab the building's edge and he split the tip into 4 smaller claws which latched onto the side, securing his line. He then reeled himself in and began flying towards the building at break-neck speeds. He was used to this sort of rush at this point; he lived for it and the thrill of it all was one of the things he enjoyed most about swinging through the city.

He lowered his speed when he approached the rooftop and tucked into a roll upon landing. He stood up and walked over to the building's edge, looking down at the, now much closer, city streets. He could see the people walking along, the cars rushing by, people going about their daily lives. Looking at it all, he realized he himself hadn't been a part of those anonymous crowds for a few months now. Werewolf preferred to stick to the shadows or the rooftops; places where people were less likely to be found. If he had to travel out in the open, he preferred to do it by night, when the majority of these people had turned in.

After getting his fill of watching New York's citizens, he swung off towards his intended destination.

 

[Arcanist]

Marcus looked up at the skyscraper before him. It was huge, even by New York standards, dozens of stories tall and taking up most of the block. Clad in glass and sporting an S logo at the top, it certainly radiated style. He looked down at the business card in his hands. On one side, and address - 37 on 32nd East Street. On the other, the same logo as on the building: Two interlocking wings with an S emblazoned between them, with the word Seraphim printed in bold letters.

"Time to buckle down and swallow your pride, Faraday."

Seraphim had been in New York as long as he could remember. His dad used to tell him stories of the heroics they'd perform worldwide - stopping dictators, foiling supervillains... But Marcus, in all his wisdom, decided he was strong enough to protect New York City on his own.

'I'm an idiot. If I had their backup, that... incident the other day would likely have not happened as it did.'

Looking again to the skyscraper, he took in a deep breath and tried to steady his rising nerves. 'Full circle, I guess. I always dreamed I'd join Seraphim when I was a kid. Time to man up...'

Gathering up his courage, he strolled into the main foyer and approached the secretary manning the desk - a middleaged woman with brown hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses. "Er... hello. I'm Faraday. Jared Miles said..."

"Oh yes, he did mention that he got another recruit." She cut in, peering at Marcus, still typing away on her desktop. "I saw you on the news yesterday, you know." Marcus looked away, his face flushing in embarrassment. "You did? That's... nice, I guess."

"For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing, given the circumstances. It may not have been particularly glamorous, but I think you'll fit in just fine around here." She pressed a button and another woman appeared from a door behind her desk, this one in her early twenties.

"Follow Becky to the waiting room. Mister Adelbert will see you shortly."

Gathering his things, a suitcase and his wits, Marcus did as he was told, but not before the secretary cut in again, handing him a file.

"Enclosed, you'll find your room number, key, and all the other paperwork relevant to your membership." She cracked a small smile. "Welcome to Seraphim, mister Faraday."

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

"Subject is a negroid female, displaying classic characteristics of her kind. Like the last three, the Mark has thoroughly suffused this specimen - brown skin, curly black hair, a flattened nose, alterations to the facial skeletal structure. As with the others she has remained belligerent in spite of gentle care. More serious measures must be taken."

The man set his recorder down onto his desk and ran his hands over his face, a great weariness suffusing him. This labor of his had consumed his every thought - how to cure these people, how to make them right, make them like real Men instead of the subhuman savages they were, reveling in the Mark of their twisted ancestor.

The man - George Baltars by name - was a doctor of some respect. Up until a month ago he had worked in the emergency room of Mercy Hospital in Miami. Now he was resigned, his crusade calling to him. He chuckled to himself - what had he been thinking, spending all those years, all that time and stress and effort and to accomplish what? He'd only spared lives for a time, he hadn't made any difference. Those people would die no matter what he did, the only question was when. This, this was the real work.

At that thought, he turned his gaze to his inspiration, tracing his fingers along the cover of the book lying on his desk. "The way and the truth and the life..." He whispered to himself, feeling a pang of regret that he couldn't properly read this book. While he had been studying Latin, the written language still eluded him for the most part. A shame. Something about it inspired him though, and as he touched it he felt a fresh flash of inspiration. He flicked the recorder back on.

"I don't think drugs and therapy will work on these cases. I think I have to fix them manually." He reached into a drawer and withdrew a scalpel, then rose from his table, walking towards the steps into his basement.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Arlana was not the biggest fan of the daytime. While it was simple enough to blend with the crowds in her Human shape, she wasn't much of a fan of doing -that- either, feeling horribly vulnerable in this weak, frail body. The alternative however was crowds of people in fear as they saw a being that to their eyes was clearly a horrific monster out of their ancient legends.

They were half right, anyway.

And so she walked down the street in the form of the human Alison, to all appearances a woman effectively interchangeable with the millions of others that walked the streets of this city, blending with the crowd.

Ostensibly, she was on patrol for Seraphim, but she considered her employment with Seraphim to be less of, well, an employment and more of an alliance. Their goals - their apparent goals, at any rate - aligned with hers, and so aiding them and in turn accepting their aid was only the intelligent thing to do. She did not feel beholden to them in any way, protecting the people of this world was simply her purpose. A Gargoyle's purpose is to protect.

On that note...

The sound of a crack came from a building on her left, a large bank with broad and wide glass doors, leading into a well decorated lobby. It was a familiar sound to Arlana, the sound of a gunshot. The crowd around her began to quickly scatter, a few going for their phones. She quickly took stock of the situation, noticing a nervous-looking man sitting in a car just in front of the bank. Through the glass doors she saw nothing, despite the fact that three tellers desks were in clear view of the door and the bank was ostensibly open.

Clearly, a situation.

She walked forward calmly towards the car where the getaway driver waited and put a vapid smile on her face as she tapped on the window. The man looked at her for a second, fidgeted, then rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, doll?" A quick glance in his mirrors showed he was gripping a pistol with his left hand, ready to shoot her if need be. Sufficient evidence.

"Yes, I believe you can." She shot a hand in, grabbed him by the collar, and smashed his face into the steering wheel. His nose compressed with a crunch and the man went down like a sack of potatoes, blood spurting out of his nose. He tried to raise the gun, only for her to grab him by the hand and smash it into his driver's side mirror, then again into the upper part of the car door. The gun dropped out of his hands and clattered onto the ground.

"I'd just like the area clear, please." A quick hook punch to the side of the head put him down onto the car seats, stunned. For a moment, Arlana rubbed her reddened knuckles, one of them split and bleeding. "Hate this body." She clenched inside, felt the stone, and let it out.

The change was nearly immediately apparent. Her skin went from pale to milk-white and her eyes from green irises to wholly green. She began to gain size, remaining of the same proportions but growing well over a foot, her outer clothes tearing and falling apart as she grew to her full height, leaving her clad only in a pair of stretchy gray pants that before had barely been staying on and now were tattered down the legs and tight along her midsection. Her upper half was likewise altered, her shirt now little more than a strip of cloth covering her breasts and shoulders. The back of it raised up a bit more, exposing her shoulders as massive bat wings erupted from her back, along with a long, broad tail. Her toes and heels twisted into blunt, raptor-like talons, while sharp, iron-like blades grew over her fingernails. Currently retracted enough to be safe, but that could quickly change.

Must remember to talk to Seraphim about getting some clothes that actually fit. Going naked would be more dignified, but apparently these people have some kind of problem with it.

She ignored the gaping stares of the few onlookers and reached down, proceeding to rip the bolts holding one of the car's hubcaps on, gripping the handful in one hand and a single one in her other hand. She took a quick glance at the car, gauging. At most five more. Most likely less.

Arlana stepped around the car and into the bank, walking towards the counter. Woodwork, sculpture, paintings. Well painted. A pair of elevator-machines were on the wall to her right, but Arlana could hear the scum on this floor. As she stepped up to the counter and peered over she grimaced at the sight. One man down. A security guard with a wound to his stomach. Still alive, but badly wounded.

"Who's watching the door!?"

"Thought Jerry was doing it..."

Two of the criminals - men dressed in black masks and dark clothing - stepped out from the back rooms. "No, it was you that was supposed to do it and what in the hell is that!" They came to a halt as they saw Arlana standing there. She didn't hesitate, quickly flinging one of the bolts, the small but heavy piece of metal striking the man in the belly. He fell to the ground, looking like he was about to vomit. The other man blanched and opened fire with the gun he was holding, a small, puny weapon. One of their pistols, and a small one at that.

Arlana leapt forward, ignoring the pinpricks of the bullets striking her and grabbed him, slamming him into the wall with brutal force, then a second time. She heard something pop in the man's side, and all the fight went out of him. She dumped him atop his nauseous and no doubt liver-bruised friend, and for good measure stomped on their weapons, reducing them to debris.

"Whoever's out there, you better not fucking come in here! I've got a hostage! If you come in here, I'll kill her!"

She stopped against the door, leaning back, contemplating how to do this. The guns were destroyed and she wasn't comfortable enough with them to try and shoot the man. Thrown bolts were a handy improvised weapon but hardly had any kind of precision. She could hit the woman and accidentally kill her, and that was unacceptable.

"Your partners have already been incapacitated. The police are on the way. Your getaway driver is out cold. You have no way out of this. Let the hostage go and I won't kill you."

"Who the...who the fuck are you!?"

"I work for Seraphim." She let that bombshell drop, then slammed into the door so hard she ripped through it, already lunging for the man. This one was dressed similarly to his two compatriots. He gripped a large pistol in his hands and had it wavering between the door and the fair-haired, terrified girl he gripped by the shoulders. Before he could finish sweeping it in either direction, she was upon him, slamming her fist into his jaw hard enough that she felt the bone crack under the force, lifting him up off the ground and depositing him on the ground with blood running from his nose and lips.

"Was that all of them?" Arlana asked the shaking girl. She just shook for a second, not responding in any way. "Was that all of them? Is anyone else in here in danger?"

"No, I mean, yes, that was all of them. We're safe now...I think? Who...what are you?"

The sound of sirens filled the bank as the police arrived. "Arlana Dehannsen. Once a Gargoyle-Knight of the Seelie Court."

The girl just stared at her. "What?" The other hostages seemed to be gleaning that the immediate danger was over, and Arlana took that as her cue to leave, heading for the elevator she had spotted on her way in. She stepped inside and pressed roof.

Two minutes later she emerged on the barren roof of the bank and took a running start before leaping off the edge, filling her wings with air and letting the joy of flight fill her heart, beginning to wind between skyscrapers in search of the next threat. A Knight's work was never done. A smile crossed her face, the warm satisfaction of evil defeated, of victory.

 

[Baldrek]

"Hmph... Looked more impressive in the ad..." Waldemar remarked as he looked up at the building in front of him, a towering skyscraper with a rather plain logo saying 'Seraphim' over the entrance to the lobby area. Still, impressive or not, there was little doubt that this was the place that he had wanted to go.

Waldemar turned back to the cab that he had arrived here in as the driver helped him out with his trolley case and his laptop bag. "Alright, and here, keep the change." He told the driver as he handed him two twenty dollar bills, he wasn't used to the whole 'tipping' culture they had here in America, the concept was a little bit alien to him truth be told. But the driver's nod of approval indicated that at least this transaction was more than satisfactory, as was the case for Waldemar himself actually, as a cab back home would have easily set him back twice what he had just payed.

"Safe travels." The driver remarked as he got back into his cab and drove off into the busy streets of New York once more, leaving Waldemar in front of the Seraphim headquarters with his luggage, looking once more at the logo over the doorway, like he was suddenly having second thoughts about all of this. He slung the strap of his bag over his left shoulder as he wondered what he should do if it turned out that he wasn't going to be much help here, he hardly had much of any 'super'-powers if you asked him, but still he had been spurred on to travel all the way here, and well... Only one way to figure out if this was a tremendous waste of time or not he guessed. Withdrawing the telescopic handle from his suitcase he walked towards the skyscraper, and before getting another chance at second guessing this choice he was inside the lobby area of the tremendous building.

"Hello there, sir. Welcome to the Seraphim HQ, how may I be of service?" A male receptionist asked him as he approached the front desk, even though Waldemar seemed a bit too busy looking at the area around him to immediately notice. To him this seemed a lot different from how he pictured it, he had thought it was going to be like the building of a large corporation, instead the atmosphere reminded him more of a hotel, or well, a bit more spartan than a usual hotel maybe. "Uhm... Sir? Is there something I can help you with?" The receptionist asked again as Waldemar finally noticed that he was talking to him. "Uhm, ja, I'm here to..." He wondered about his choice of words for a moment before settling on a sentence. "... Apply, yes. Apply for this so called 'superhero' thing you've been posting ads for." He remembered the content of his earlier e-mail to them and withdrew his phone, checking through the emails for the correspondence before finding it. "I'm supposed to have an appointment with a... Mr. Christopher Adelbert."

The receptionist nodded after a brief moment of silence, during which Waldemar felt a bit of a blush on his face, it made him feel completely ridiculous saying something like that, he might just as well have said 'I want to be a superhero, pretty please', or at least they sounded equally ridiculous in his mind. "Ah, sure, sir. Please take a seat in the lounge area and fill out this form here. We'll have one of our administrators come get you in a moment and lead you to Mister Adelbert's office." The receptionist replied as he handed him a clipboard and a pen and directed him towards what looked like a waiting area, one that seemed pretty devoid of people at the moment.

"Alright, just fill it out and wait?" Waldemar said rhetorically as he started wandering over to one of the vacant seats before receiving an answer from the receptionist. Once there he put his luggage next to his chair before sitting down and going over the papers in his hands.

"Hmm... Seems simple enough..." He mumbled to himself as he looked thorugh the papers and started filling them in. Name: Waldemar Abel. Gender: Male. Born: 11/07/1965. Citizenship: Norwegian. Etc. Etc. It felt like filling out a second curriculum vitae, which seemed a bit odd as the ad had specified that bringing one along was preferred by Seraphim. "What a pain... Bureaucracy, bureaucracy... Can't seem to get away from it no matter where in the world you are..." He remarked as he kept filling it in. Finally he got to the more unusual parts of the documents however, like 'Please describe your powers:', along with a pretty usual 'Why do you want to join Seraphim:'. Finishing filling out the forms he walked back to the desk to hand them in before sitting down and waiting for someone to come and get him. So far this whole 'apply for superhero status'-thing had seemed pretty mundane to him, even though the feeling of the earplugs in his ears reminded him that this was far from mundane despite what it looked like.

After sitting around for maybe ten minutes or so someone finally came and asked for a 'Doctor Abel', and it took two or three repeats of this before Waldemar actually responded, being so used to informal attitudes from back home that he hadn't given the fact that he actually had a title much thought. Following the person who had called for him he soon found himself in front of the office of this 'Mister Adelbert', after a quick elevator ride and a small maze of corridors. Straightening his dark grey suit, Waldemar hoped he looked somewhat presentable even with his lack of a tie as he knocked on the office door before entering to speak to whoever this Adelbert was, though he had a feeling that he was a pretty important person around here.

 

[SkyeNeko]

Mommy, my head hurts

Ianthe smoothed Mneme's hair. Her daughter didn't have the energy to stay in her Leviathan form, but she kept her in the small pool anyway. The last doctor she had kidnapped was cowering in the corner. He didn't seem to understand them either, no matter how Ianthe tried to mimic his language.

Don't worry, you'll be well soon. We'll go back to the ocean soon. she promised. I'll go out and get you something to eat. Food will make you feel better.

She nuzzled the girl's cheek before turning a hostile glance at the human. Ianthe dove smoothly into the dark water, easily going into her Leviathan form. Sharp scales enveloped her face and neck, and her legs fused together into a familiar tail. With a powerful stroke she propelled herself out of the tunnel and into open water.

The moonlight had made everything silver. Silver fish swam over silver sand, and through silver seaweed. Even Ianthe's dark scales glinted brightly. Despite having no more to fear from sunlight, she was still used to travelling at night. There were less people around, and it was dark. Either way, the shore was not her destination. She continued to make her way out to the ocean, relieved as her body slowly grew in response to the presence of Pleione. Leagues and leagues under, she could feel it. She missed it. But Mneme couldn't survive here yet. She was too young. Too small to hunt.

Ahead, Ianthe saw their meal. A whale shark, 25 feet long, swam ahead. It was a lovely specimen, with light spots. It was half Ianthe's size, oblivious as she stalked it from below. She sped up, slowly rising up until, in a final burst of speed, she sunk her teeth into its stomach. Blood darkened the water as it thrashed, eerily silent underwater. Ianthe circled, her arms slowly getting into position. The sharp ends glinted for a second, and then she drove them into the shark's body, impaling it from all directions. She brought the carcass up to her mouth, tearing a chunk out of its face. The smell of blood would surely bring some of the more fierce sharks around, more than Ianthe cared to deal with. She finished most of it, then took the back third in her mouth and swam back to the cave.

The smell was probably overwhelming to the human, who vomited when she brought the mangled corpse out of the water and dumped it on the ground. Mneme, eat. Her voice, a sort of roar in the Leviathan form, made the walls and ceiling rumble. However Mneme, quite used to the sound, responded with small chirps and whistles. I'm not hungry. My stomach hurts. Ianthe changed back to her human form, a single candle casting shadows as her bones moved under her skin.

"You. Eat." She commanded the human, pointing to the mound of fish.
"W-wha? You can't expect me to eat that! I need cooked food, please, just let me g-"
Ianthe roared, turning and backhanding the doctor, throwing him into the wall. "You shall not leave until she is well!"
"Please, my family..."
"They are fine."
"But-"
"THEY ARE FINE"
She looked like she was going to strike him again, but she controlled herself. She needed him, and if she kept hitting him, he would break. Instead, she retreated back to her daughter's side. She had watched their exchange with some interest, knowing less than her mother about what was going on.

Is he going to make me better?
...Yes, Mneme, he will.
She slipped into the water next to her, putting an arm around the girl until she fell asleep.
It will all be better soon.

 

[socialtangent]

"Your request for improved gear has been submitted, Mr. Isherwood. Given your specifications, it shouldn't be any more than three days."

"Three days?" Kurt sighed with resignation. "Well, I guess I'll make do with what I have now. Thank you, Miss..."

"Call," the secretary finished, holding up the I.D. badge that hung from the lanyard around her neck. Printed beneath the rather unflattering photo was the name 'Natalie Call.'

Kurt hadn't noticed the badge. "Right. Thanks again, Miss Call."

"You're welcome, Mr. Isherwood. Seraphim R&D will let you know when your gear is ready."

"Good. Keep me posted," Kurt replied with a friendly nod before leaving the office. Now that his request was submitted, he could head back to the training area, which happened to be on the same floor. He liked the convenience; just about everything he needed was within a few floors of each other. Seraphim didn't slack at all when it came to providing for him, or any of its resident heroes.

It was only a short walk to Seraphim's in-house training facility. Two armed guards stood by the entrance. After a quick security check, the thick steel doors were opened and Kurt entered. The interior looked like a cross between an indoor shooting range and a massive gymnasium. Multiple target ranges, a firearms rental booth, exercise equipment stations, courts for tennis and basketball, and several sparring arenas.

In the initial tour around Seraphim, he was told that the facility was made specifically for use by metahumans and other supers. The walls were lined with cutting-edge sound cancelling insulation and the windows were made of special one-way glass to ensure privacy. All of the facility's equipment had settings and modes for use by individuals with above-human strength, speed, and endurance. Even the people who staffed the sparring arenas were themselves metahuman. They were there for the heroes to test their combat skills against opponents with equal or greater strength.

Today, however, Kurt was here for the target ranges. He figured a little target practice could never hurt. After talking to the man that ran the ranges, he set up an exercise roughly equal to a shooting test for a handgun. He took up his spot, right palm out, and watched as a ballistics gelatin human-form target appeared at the five yard mark.

Purple smoke began to emanate from Kurt's open palm, quickly coalescing into a bright beam of similarly colored ectoplasmic energy before launching towards the target. The blast struck its mark, leaving a patch of melted gel in its center of mass. A second target rose up, this time at the ten yard mark. It met the same fate as its predecessor, with a quick blast from Kurt's left palm. At fifteen yards, his aim was slightly off, hitting a little below center mass. Twenty yards, Kurt's next shot slammed into the target's gut. The target at 25 yards earned a scorched patch near its left shoulder.

The purple smoke around Kurt's hands dissipated as the targets were pulled in for him to examine. He regarded the somewhat gruesome injuries the ballistics gel received. He remembered from a TV show he used to watch that it was the closest analogue to human flesh one could humanely obtain. Accurate when testing ballistic weapons, not so much when testing energy-based ones. Since the gel best mimicked human flesh at a chilled temperature, the heat generated by his ectoplasm blasts fudged the results more than a little bit.

Regardless, Kurt's aim was getting better. There was still room for improvement, though. He approached the range operator again and set up for another test, this time with the targets appearing in random order. "Careful not to burn through all the gel targets," the operator told him. "They do take a while to make, after all."

"Don't worry about that," Kurt replied, heading back to his spot. Once there, he assumed his stance, waiting for the first target to appear.