Day's End, Ends Meet

Awan

A Thing That Happened
Mar 7, 2015
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the silence said:
Legal Name: Dana Roth

Place and Date of Birth: Hamburg, Germany; December 2017

Known Aliases: -

Appearance: Ms. Roth has light skin and medium-length blonde hair. Her eyes are usually covered. She is tall, with an average build. She wears common clothes, usually what is currently a trend.

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Depressive personality. No diagnosis of depression, but having little self-confidence. Usually tries to fit into normal society, but her limitations and powers both prevent her from truly fitting in, or even feel like fitting in if she gets accepted in a community.

Bio: Dana Roth was born to Walter and Irene Roth in Hamburg, Germany. Her childhood went by without any incident known to be relevant to the AHP Act Profile.
Was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder causing rapid loss of vision at the age of 12. Soon her powers developed, first known to the AHP after an incident of using a high-pitched scream to cause the shattering of some windows at her parent's house. Dropped out of her school soon after, being educated mostly at home and a short time at an Awakened Residential School. Being known to leave her house without any guiding aides at a few occasions later, producing different kinds of sounds at times. [Due to no further incidents the observation was limited to reports of troubled neighbours.]
Immigration to Canada in 2039, possibly to find employment and start a new life.

Current status: being unemployed, living in different appartments in Vancouver, Canada.

Criminal Record: None.

Known Talents: Ms. Roth possesses above average intelligence. She has a good voice, being able to produce a wide variety of imitations, as well as being able to sing extraordinarily well. No public appearances as a singer are known, however.

Known Abilities: Wave Manipulation - Ms. Roth is able to 'feel' different kind of waves, like soundwaves and radiowaves. She is also able to manipulate them in a limited capacity, like increasing or decreasing the frequency. One theory is that she uses an enhanced type of echolocation. The full extent of her power is unknown, possibly even to herself.
Solid sheet, no grammatical errors or continuity errors, good work.
 

Captainguy42

Is trapped in a title factory.
May 20, 2009
2,781
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So what is the plan for the conflict? Are we looking at a villain? An antagonistic organization? Just slice of life troubles? Is the prom tomorrow and we have nothing to wear?
 

Awan

A Thing That Happened
Mar 7, 2015
34
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Captainguy42 said:
So what is the plan for the conflict? Are we looking at a villain? An antagonistic organization? Just slice of life troubles? Is the prom tomorrow and we have nothing to wear?
The weird thing is that the actual answer to this question is 'all of the above' (aside from the last thing).
But any more information is spoilers.
 

Lost In The Void

When in doubt, curl up and cry
Aug 27, 2008
10,128
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Legal Name: Enrique Shackerov

DOB: March 23 2017

Place of Birth: Mexico City

Alias: Microwave

Appearance: About 5'7" with matted black hair. Dark skinned. Brown eyes and a crooked nose. Usually unshaven and wearing a ratty suit he must have gotten out of a bargain bin somewhere. Noticeable are the scars on both arms, going around the middle of his forearms.

Psych Profile: A fairly moderate temperament that comes from being on the streets. Takes a lot to get under his skin. We do note small amounts of paranoia around people touching him unexpectedly. He's selfish in his possessions which one would not be surprised at considering his lodgings. Alcohol addiction may be there, definitely an addiction to smoking.

Bio: Born in Mexico City in 2017, Enrique was the result of an affair between a Russo-American businessman and a Mexican woman. He was raised in Mexico with his mother, his father preferring rare visits and monetary gifts to keep the small family apart. Not much of note is given to Enrique's first 18 years as it seems to have been a normal childhood with an above average education, due to the money sent their way by his father, whose last name he took at the age of 18. That is, at the surface level, but our investigation has turned up a different story. In the year 2022, at the age of 5, the Awakening began and Enrique was Awakened to his powers of Thermal Energy Conduction when he transferred the heat of scalding water he had knocked off the stove, into a nearby set of cupboards which immediately burst into flames.

Sensing what was to come, his mother hid these powers for the sake of her child. Using money from Enrique's father and the influence it bought, he was raised privately, with a tutor to educated him. He was also given stern, often brutal lessons by his mother to learn to restrain himself and his usage of powers from a very young age. By his 18th birthday he had learn to repress the urge to use his powers, and stayed safe from the brutal residential schools for Awakened which had finally been shut down. He also hated his mother for the brutal, often abusive measures she had taken to restrain him.

He decided to go to America to see the man who had paid for his freedom from the Residential Schools, he would go see his father. His mother, as a final kindness, despite his hatred, procured papers into America. His father accepted him into the home, getting him a small under the table job in the company. It allowed Enrique to work in the country and work on his already decent English. However his father was old and fast coming was the Awakened Humans Precaution Act. Enrique's status as an Awakened was revealed under a night of business dealings with the American government when, under the influence, Enrique's father revealed that his son had the powers of an Awakened.

This was the end of the easy life for Enrique. He was forced to either register or be deported into his old country, which he would have to register in anyways. He chose to have the collar of Awakened thrown onto his neck. His father, losing the grip on his own company could not protect him any longer and in 2038, a 21 year old Enrique was let go. The difficulties of getting a job as an Awakened were made apparent quickly and soon he was also homeless. His father had begun to resent him. He blamed his son's status as an Awakened for his own loss of status.

Since then, there's been no recording of any major going ons of Enrique. He seems to keep to himself, and while he's been brought in on multiple minor crimes, usually relating to theft or his budding alcoholism, he seems to have no desire for violence or unrest. A good, tame Awakened who has become content in his street life.


Criminal Record: Petty theft under $1000, loitering, public intoxication, public indecency.

Known Talents: Pickpocketing, somewhat charismatic, and excellent stamina considering his smoking habit.

Known Abilities: Thermal Energy Transmission and Absorption, the ability to transfer and store thermal in his person. While he has an incredible tolerance to heat and cold as a result of his power, this ability is not infinite. It appears that with the continued storage of this energy, there must either be a transfer point or the energy will exit the body via steam leaking through his arms. This could be a potential source of the violent looking scars on his arms.
 

Yorg

New member
Mar 22, 2017
8
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Legal Name: Ryan Strias

Place/Date of Birth: Brainerd, Minnesota, December 21, 2000

Aliases: None

Description: Caucasian Male, Age 42, 5'11'', 160 lbs, athletic build. Green eyes, long grey hair, beard. Last seen in ordinary street clothes.

Psych Profile: Diagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder. Symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and multiple Somatic Delusion Disorders including supernumerary phantom limbs. Unfriendly.

Bio: Born to Andrew and Amanda Strias in Brainerd, Minnesota. Grew up in Backus, Minnesota. Four siblings; three sisters and one brother, all younger. Father owned a car repair business. Exhibited signs of mental illness as early as age 10, including BPD and depression. Moved to New York City in 2020, age 20, and attended the New York Academy of Art. Experienced difficulty in school and dropped out in 2022, three months before the Awakening.

Suspected involvement in the violence in NYC following the Awakening. Went to ground immediately following the events in New York and was not seen again until 2024 in Lincoln, Vermont. Was taken in for questioning, and later released. Committed himself to Vermont Psychiatric Hospital in Montpelier in May of 2025. Displayed symptoms of multiple psychiatric conditions and violent tendencies during this period.

Left the hospital abruptly in 2026 and once again disappeared. Caught camping in Canon de Santa Elena National Park, Mexico in 2031, having crossed border illegally. Paid fine, AHPA profile created March 12th, 2031. Homeless for two years. Moved west, occupied various labor jobs and low rent residencies throughout Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Arrested for theft in Carson City, Utah in 2036, paid fine. Resisted attempts at committal to psychiatric facilities. Homeless again, whereabouts unknown until 2040. Blocked from the Voyager volunteer program in Santa Fe in 2040. Moved north, last seen in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, February 2042.

Criminal Record: Petty theft, trespassing, simple assault, possession of cannabis, illegal possession of prescription drugs, uttering threats, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest. Suspected crimes include: grand theft, grand theft auto, burglary, aggravated assault, destruction of public property, murder, attempted murder.

Note: Though the investigation has been halted due to lack of evidence, Strias remains a suspect in the disappearance and possible deaths of Ray Sanchez, Amelia Vance, Kristopher Rahl, and Damien Lier. Any new information regarding these cases should immediately be sent to the NYC Police Department.


Known Talents: Basic hand-to-hand combat and self-defense capability. May have basic firearm knowledge. Basic outdoor survival skills.

Known Abilities: Can transform any inanimate matter in contact with his body into a viscous fluid (referred to by Strias as "tar" or "mud") of which he can subsequently control the shape, movement, and some physical properties. Known physical properties include density, viscosity, elasticity, and hardness. Has not been observed to control the temperature, color, luminance, or electric conductivity. Material takes on his body temperature and a dark, muddy coloration. No magnetic, electric, or radioactive properties have been noted. Material acts as an extension of his body, allowing it to grow by transforming any material in contact with it. Once contact is severed the material reverts to its original form. It is believed that the energy and concentration required to maintain the material are affected by both the mass of material and the extent of change to its physical properties.

Note: Has never demonstrated the ability to affect living tissue.
 

Awan

A Thing That Happened
Mar 7, 2015
34
0
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Legal Name: Shalim Amarappi

Place and Date of Birth: November 9th 2016, Susanville, California

Known Aliases: (none).

Appearance: Egyptian/Syrian descent. shaggy medium length dark brown hair. brown eyes, lithe, 5'7". Usually has a small amount of facial hair on his lip and chin although has been known to shave completely. He is without any tattoos or piercings but does possess a large mole in the centre of his back underneath his shoulder blades.

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: mild PTSD triggered by mentions of death or killing, open fires and small dark rooms. Generally dislikes to prolong conversations, leading to awkward conversation, although has considerable tact in dealing with figures of authority, which has served him well in finding employment and made his encounters with the police to be relatively brief. He is known to meditate when he has issues sleeping which he said "keeps [him] sharp".

Bio: Born in a middle class family of with second generation Syrian father and Egyptian mother in a rural town. Subsequently suffered moderate to violent racism. This has increased his resilience to threats and intimidation, but is more reserved in approaching and conversing with others. at age 9 his powers presumably first manifested when the bullying escalated to violence causing him to vanish from sight for multiple hours. A search party was called for him when he emerged from a nearby wooded area after dusk. He himself denies significant recollection of the event though. He was assessed as a probable case for being awakened and so was transferred to the Gualala residential school until the terror attack May 2028 which was particularly violent as it involved over 40 suspects who set alight the entire complex and surrounded it. Of the original 863 attendees of the school, only 57 survivors are documented with 34 missing to date. Of those apprehended, crime include arson, murder, rape, mayhem and mutilation. He claims to have witnessed the fire and the murder of 3 people, none of whom he knew personally, although psychological evidence suggests otherwise. His survival confirmed suspicions of actual abilities. He managed to escape to Sacramento and has held a series of jobs under the pretence of being 'unawakened' in Sacramento and Red Bluff which at the time was not necessarily legal fictitious. During this period he claims to have stayed in numerous vacant homes none of which have any signs of breaking and entering. He also claims to have spent significant time with a man described as "very European looking with a remarkably convincing Japanese accent and manner" who called himself 'Jack' or 'Shisho' whom no match has yet been found. He is presumed also to be awakened and from whom he is reported to picked up skills with a limited number of martial weapons. We did not know of his powers until he was arrested for trespassing and interviewed in 2039.

Criminal Record: Trespassing, Adverse possession, Theft (minor)

Known Talents: limited training in hand to hand combat and swordplay. High level of cardiac fitness, fine motor skills and quick reaction speeds. Generally well adjusted, high awareness of surroundings.

Known Abilities: described as 'warping'. Able to shift physical presence to an immaterial blank plane, which allows complete freedom of movement for the duration he is able to concentrate before returning to the new position. Can only take objects that he has conditioned to be an extension of himself such as his clothes, and cannot contact any solid object in the returning instant or it both parties will be destroyed at the overlap. This has only happened on the occasion when his clothes contacted a surface, and so far has somehow managed to avoid injury altogether.
Captainguy42 said:
Legal Name: Octavio DeSanto

Place and Date of Birth: San Fransisco, January 1st, 2014

Known Aliases: Surge

Appearance:
Sex- Male
Hair- Mid length, dark brown
Eyes- Light Brown
Height - 6?0?
Weight- 135 lbs
Skin tone- Light tan
Additional- A bullet wound scar from a low caliber bullet in the upper left abdominal quadrant. Slashing scars on outer left arm. A stab wound to lower right lumbar region. He has No piercings or tattoos.
Age- 28

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis:
Responds to most situations with aggression either verbally or physically. Since a young age Octavio has an innate distrust of authority, instead investing all his trust in individuals who were in similar situations. Due to the nature of his power draining his metabolism he is afflicted with binge eating disorder.

Bio:
Octavio DeSanto was born in San Fransisco during the soft-ware boom of the late 2010s; His father was a Brazilian immigrant and his mother was a Japanese American citizen. Both of them were software engineers at Google. When scrutiny against immigrants was raised due to executive order, his father was deported due to his connection to a far-left political group during his college education in Brazil. As a natural-born citizen Octavio was allowed to stay in the US with his mother. Two years later his parent?s relationship dissolved, the official reason given was ? estrangement due to distance?. Dr. Garcia points to this as Octavio?s distrust of the government and authority.

Octavio?s powers manifest during the start of martial law in 2026, Octavio was 12 at the time. During a search of his mother?s home security officers confronted Octavio and his mother demanding to know if they were hiding anyone. Octavio inadvertently fired a blast at one of the officers which threw the officer across the room. A second officer opened fire and shot Octavio in the abdomen. Octavio was taken to the Zuckerberg SF General Hospital ER and survived the gunshot. The officer he attacked survived, suffering a spinal injury which resulted in complete paraplegia.

After his recovery Octavio was moved into an Awakened Residential School. During this time he received numerous demerits for violence, vandalism, and acts of resistance. After his required tenure Octavio attempted to enter the work force, having been rejected from several institutes of higher learning. He continued to live in San Fransisco, where he began a short vigilante career as ?Surge? he was eventually apprehended and served a sentence, he was 18 at this time. He was eventually paroled, claiming to be rehabilitated and returned to his life as a citizen. He served out his parole and has been noted moving North from San Fransisco.

Criminal Record: Reckless driving, possession of cannabis, trespassing, vandalism, and vigilantism. For more information contact the San Fransisco Police Department

Known Talents:
-Hand-to-hand combat proficiency, a combination of jiu-jitsu he learned as child and what he?s learned in numerous altercations as a vigilante.
-Programming, following in the footsteps of his parents Octavio is proficient in several programming languages.
-Fluent in Portuguese and Japanese

Known Abilities:
Energy Projection: Octavio can generate and discharge large amounts of energy through his hands. These pulses are capable of blasting through concrete, knocking people across rooms, breaking bones, and they can easily be lethal. Octavio is capable of controlling the intensity of these blasts, the upper limit of this power is still unknown.

The theory is that Octavio somehow harness the energy in his hand, then ejects as a wave of energy similar to the concussive wave emitted from an explosive blast. Unlike an explosive blast the energy pulse does not dissipate and widen out, but stays concentrated as a beam. A medium is required such as air or water for the blast to travel through, in theory he could not fire through a vacuum. Solid materials absorb the energy which knocks them away with violent force.

Octavio is not immune to the laws of physics. While his power seems to side-step Newton?s third law by diffusing the momentum into the air behind him, a small fraction of the momentum is still transferred to his body. For smaller blasts this is a trivial amount, but larger blasts can knock himself backwards even breaking his arms. While the law of conservation of energy also applies to a small degree. At least a portion of the energy he projects comes from himself, meaning Octavio burns calories at an alarming rate, but this still does not account for the majority of the energy used in the blasts.
Lost In The Void said:
Legal Name: Enrique Shackerov

DOB: March 23 2017

Place of Birth: Mexico City

Alias: Microwave

Appearance: About 5'7" with matted black hair. Dark skinned. Brown eyes and a crooked nose. Usually unshaven and wearing a ratty suit he must have gotten out of a bargain bin somewhere. Noticeable are the scars on both arms, going around the middle of his forearms.

Psych Profile: A fairly moderate temperament that comes from being on the streets. Takes a lot to get under his skin. We do note small amounts of paranoia around people touching him unexpectedly. He's selfish in his possessions which one would not be surprised at considering his lodgings. Alcohol addiction may be there, definitely an addiction to smoking.

Bio: Born in Mexico City in 2017, Enrique was the result of an affair between a Russo-American businessman and a Mexican woman. He was raised in Mexico with his mother, his father preferring rare visits and monetary gifts to keep the small family apart. Not much of note is given to Enrique's first 18 years as it seems to have been a normal childhood with an above average education, due to the money sent their way by his father, whose last name he took at the age of 18. That is, at the surface level, but our investigation has turned up a different story. In the year 2022, at the age of 5, the Awakening began and Enrique was Awakened to his powers of Thermal Energy Conduction when he transferred the heat of scalding water he had knocked off the stove, into a nearby set of cupboards which immediately burst into flames.

Sensing what was to come, his mother hid these powers for the sake of her child. Using money from Enrique's father and the influence it bought, he was raised privately, with a tutor to educated him. He was also given stern, often brutal lessons by his mother to learn to restrain himself and his usage of powers from a very young age. By his 18th birthday he had learn to repress the urge to use his powers, and stayed safe from the brutal residential schools for Awakened which had finally been shut down. He also hated his mother for the brutal, often abusive measures she had taken to restrain him.

He decided to go to America to see the man who had paid for his freedom from the Residential Schools, he would go see his father. His mother, as a final kindness, despite his hatred, procured papers into America. His father accepted him into the home, getting him a small under the table job in the company. It allowed Enrique to work in the country and work on his already decent English. However his father was old and fast coming was the Awakened Humans Precaution Act. Enrique's status as an Awakened was revealed under a night of business dealings with the American government when, under the influence, Enrique's father revealed that his son had the powers of an Awakened.

This was the end of the easy life for Enrique. He was forced to either register or be deported into his old country, which he would have to register in anyways. He chose to have the collar of Awakened thrown onto his neck. His father, losing the grip on his own company could not protect him any longer and in 2038, a 21 year old Enrique was let go. The difficulties of getting a job as an Awakened were made apparent quickly and soon he was also homeless. His father had begun to resent him. He blamed his son's status as an Awakened for his own loss of status.

Since then, there's been no recording of any major going ons of Enrique. He seems to keep to himself, and while he's been brought in on multiple minor crimes, usually relating to theft or his budding alcoholism, he seems to have no desire for violence or unrest. A good, tame Awakened who has become content in his street life.


Criminal Record: Petty theft under $1000, loitering, public intoxication, public indecency.

Known Talents: Pickpocketing, somewhat charismatic, and excellent stamina considering his smoking habit.

Known Abilities: Thermal Energy Transmission and Absorption, the ability to transfer and store thermal in his person. While he has an incredible tolerance to heat and cold as a result of his power, this ability is not infinite. It appears that with the continued storage of this energy, there must either be a transfer point or the energy will exit the body via steam leaking through his arms. This could be a potential source of the violent looking scars on his arms.
Yorg said:
Legal Name: Ryan Strias

Place/Date of Birth: Brainerd, Minnesota, December 21, 2000

Aliases: None

Description: Caucasian Male, Age 42, 5'11'', 160 lbs, athletic build. Green eyes, long grey hair, beard. Last seen in ordinary street clothes.

Psych Profile: Diagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder. Symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and multiple Somatic Delusion Disorders including supernumerary phantom limbs. Unfriendly.

Bio: Born to Andrew and Amanda Strias in Brainerd, Minnesota. Grew up in Backus, Minnesota. Four siblings; three sisters and one brother, all younger. Father owned a car repair business. Exhibited signs of mental illness as early as age 10, including BPD and depression. Moved to New York City in 2020, age 20, and attended the New York Academy of Art. Experienced difficulty in school and dropped out in 2022, three months before the Awakening.

Suspected involvement in the violence in NYC following the Awakening. Went to ground immediately following the events in New York and was not seen again until 2024 in Lincoln, Vermont. Was taken in for questioning, and later released. Committed himself to Vermont Psychiatric Hospital in Montpelier in May of 2025. Displayed symptoms of multiple psychiatric conditions and violent tendencies during this period.

Left the hospital abruptly in 2026 and once again disappeared. Caught camping in Canon de Santa Elena National Park, Mexico in 2031, having crossed border illegally. Paid fine, AHPA profile created March 12th, 2031. Homeless for two years. Moved west, occupied various labor jobs and low rent residencies throughout Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and California. Arrested for theft in Carson City, Utah in 2036, paid fine. Resisted attempts at committal to psychiatric facilities. Homeless again, whereabouts unknown until 2040. Blocked from the Voyager volunteer program in Santa Fe in 2040. Moved north, last seen in Bonners Ferry, Idaho, February 2042.

Criminal Record: Petty theft, trespassing, simple assault, possession of cannabis, illegal possession of prescription drugs, uttering threats, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest. Suspected crimes include: grand theft, grand theft auto, burglary, aggravated assault, destruction of public property, murder, attempted murder.

Note: Though the investigation has been halted due to lack of evidence, Strias remains a suspect in the disappearance and possible deaths of Ray Sanchez, Amelia Vance, Kristopher Rahl, and Damien Lier. Any new information regarding these cases should immediately be sent to the NYC Police Department.


Known Talents: Basic hand-to-hand combat and self-defense capability. May have basic firearm knowledge. Basic outdoor survival skills.

Known Abilities: Can transform any inanimate matter in contact with his body into a viscous fluid (referred to by Strias as "tar" or "mud") of which he can subsequently control the shape, movement, and some physical properties. Known physical properties include density, viscosity, elasticity, and hardness. Has not been observed to control the temperature, color, luminance, or electric conductivity. Material takes on his body temperature and a dark, muddy coloration. No magnetic, electric, or radioactive properties have been noted. Material acts as an extension of his body, allowing it to grow by transforming any material in contact with it. Once contact is severed the material reverts to its original form. It is believed that the energy and concentration required to maintain the material are affected by both the mass of material and the extent of change to its physical properties.

Note: Has never demonstrated the ability to affect living tissue.
the silence said:
Legal Name: Dana Roth

Place and Date of Birth: Hamburg, Germany; December 2017

Known Aliases: -

Appearance: Ms. Roth has light skin and medium-length blonde hair. Her eyes are usually covered. She is tall, with an average build. She wears common clothes, usually what is currently a trend.

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Depressive personality. No diagnosis of depression, but having little self-confidence. Usually tries to fit into normal society, but her limitations and powers both prevent her from truly fitting in, or even feel like fitting in if she gets accepted in a community.

Bio: Dana Roth was born to Walter and Irene Roth in Hamburg, Germany. Her childhood went by without any incident known to be relevant to the AHP Act Profile.
Was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder causing rapid loss of vision at the age of 12. Soon her powers developed, first known to the AHP after an incident of using a high-pitched scream to cause the shattering of some windows at her parent's house. Dropped out of her school soon after, being educated mostly at home and a short time at an Awakened Residential School. Being known to leave her house without any guiding aides at a few occasions later, producing different kinds of sounds at times. [Due to no further incidents the observation was limited to reports of troubled neighbours.]
Immigration to Canada in 2039, possibly to find employment and start a new life.

Current status: being unemployed, living in different appartments in Vancouver, Canada.

Criminal Record: None.

Known Talents: Ms. Roth possesses above average intelligence. She has a good voice, being able to produce a wide variety of imitations, as well as being able to sing extraordinarily well. No public appearances as a singer are known, however.

Known Abilities: Wave Manipulation - Ms. Roth is able to 'feel' different kind of waves, like soundwaves and radiowaves. She is also able to manipulate them in a limited capacity, like increasing or decreasing the frequency. One theory is that she uses an enhanced type of echolocation. The full extent of her power is unknown, possibly even to herself.
NeoAC said:
Legal Name: Mia Riley

Place and Date of Birth: Cape May, New Jersey; May 17, 2019

Known Aliases: Stephanie Diaz, Dana Anderson, April Plaza, Carol Greer, Cheryl Greer, Nikki Hart, Ramona Spain, Kate McMullan, Danni Clarke, Alyson Marshall

Appearance: Ms. Riley has tan skin and a skinny body frame, a result of being constantly on the move. Her usual outfit consists of a black jacket and rotating dress combo that is always ditched after she moves onto the next town. The constant is emeralds. She is always wearing one piece of jewelry with an emerald on it, be it necklace, earrings or other.
Height: 5?8?
Weight: 115 lbs
Hair color: Dark brown. She has some rushed blonde streaks from her last run through the Luxor.
Hair style: Straight, down to the shoulder blade. Worn in a variety of updos when in casinos, down when she has other colors in her hair.
Eye color: Green

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Mia has severe trust issues and has developed the tendencies of a pathological liar as a result. She will not let anyone get close to her, and no one can agree on the name she uses. Only through cross-referencing her facial features with her high school yearbook were authorities able to get a confirmed name.

Bio: Mia was born to Emilia and Gareth Riley, inheriting her mother?s Italian looks and father?s Irish charm. The parents split up when Mia was 4, primarily due to Gareth?s gambling addiction. Every weekend Gareth was in Atlantic City, even as the ocean crept closer to the Boardwalk. After Emilia left and took the younger sister with her to Mama Chiozza?s, Gareth would take Mia with him on his junkets. The seedy owners didn't mind the kid. Gareth was a good customer.

The first time Gareth bet Mia on a roll of the dice came when she was 10. The elder Riley had a real bad night against the Triads and needed a hard 10. Mia stared at the dice and they rolled for an eternity before settling on the two fives needed. Pressed to do it again a week later for the Fiorello Family, Gareth again need the 10 but this time he watched his daughter, sure he wouldn't get that lucky twice. But Mia just stared at the dice and once again the hard 10 showed. Mia celebrated but Gareth saw something, and it led to green in his eyes.

After hearing about the Awakened people showing up around the world, Gareth tested Mia at home, urging her to set the dice to whatever combo he called out. Mia complied. The two agreed it was in their best interests to hide this talent from the world. Instead, they used Mia?s ability to wipe out Gareth?s debts in New Atlantic City, Philly and beyond. Gareth played less, but anytime the two of them needed money to cover car repairs or a vacation to Florida or a new house when the Atlantic swallowed Cape May, the two went to the tables.

Time came to pay the piper when Mia was 19. The Pannuccis were particularly miffed about a six-figure win on the roulette table and Gareth Riley was gunned down outside his Vineland garage, left to die in cold blood. When Mia found her dying father after school, he told her to take the money and run or the Pannuccis would be back. Mia stayed by Gareth?s side for comfort until he breathed his last, then packed her bag and bolted out of town.

She has spent the last three years working her way across the country, earning cash off big-city casinos and small town games alike with her ?near-psychic abilities? on the roulette and craps tables. Getting caught outside of Uncasville, Connecticut got her added to the Registry for the first time, but she pressed on after she was released. The past six months were spent living it up in Vegas with money earned off some of the biggest casinos in the world. But finally the owners were taking notice of the brunette who had an uncanny winning streak going. They sent men up to her room in the Luxor to ?dissuade? her from taking more casino money, but a warning from the bellboy who she tipped very generously gave her enough time to grab a bag and get out of Vegas. She was last seen speeding north in a rented S17, but a lot of her money was left in her room and despite the influx of sea air, the Nevada desert was still somewhat harsh...

Criminal Record: Presenting false identification to a law officer, illegal gambling.

Known Talents: Mia is real handy at math, able to quickly calculate odds and sums thanks to years of practice. She?s also able to disguise herself relatively well considering she doesn?t have shapeshifting abilities. No two ID cards have the exact same photo on them for a reason.

Known Abilities: Telekinesis - Mia has limited control with her mind over objects in her vicinity. She has remarkable control over the small objects, able to make them move at high speeds to render her efforts almost undetectable to the naked eye.

She has no idea of the full extent of her abilities, having not applied them to anything bigger than a roulette ball at the behest of her father. She couldn?t be outed as an Awakened if no one could tell she had done anything. She?s been good enough to avoid trouble so far, but with people eager to see her taken out, she might start seeing how far she can go.
Pm0n3y said:
Legal Name: Justin Joseph Locke

Place and Date of Birth: Harlem, NY, January 15th, 2022

Known Aliases: N/A

Appearance: Caucasian Male, weighing 130 lbs., standing at 5 feet 10 inches. Mostly average build on a thin frame. Dark brown hair cropped short, light brown eyes. Wears a pair of cheap, black-frame glasses to aid with his sight. Clean shaven.

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Textbook narcissism. Is very aware of his mental strengths and intelligence, and can be very arrogant about it. Can be highly emotional at times, and isn't afraid of being loud and speaking his mind. He doesn't care about other people's thoughts or feelings and gets defensive when he's put on the spot or someone finds a flaw in something of his. Will befriend you if he finds common ground, however.

Bio: Was born right on the cusp of The Awakening to Alice and Joseph Locke. Ushered into a new age of man, Justin was raised among the glitz and glamor of the early Golden Age Awakened humans. Granted, he was far too young to remember any of it, but his father was definitely a fan. Then The Black Year occurred and passed over the world like a sickening plague. Definitely, the wrong time to realize your only son was an Awakened human as well. His mother, a fierce pro-human supporter, couldn't deal with her child's "sickness", and his father's support. Claimed she was "living a nightmare", divorced her husband, and disowned her child.

It was father and son against the world from there on out. Instead of the event creating a rift between the two, it only strengthened their bond. Made the registry and residential schools easier for the two to process. Joseph loved his son's curiosity for his work and enjoyed being someone his son could look up to. Learning was second nature to the boy, and he easily excelled in most of his classes. It was to the point that he became unruly and dismissive of his peers and curriculum, as it didn't pose much of a challenge to his growing mind.

The prejudice and stigma against his kind became more relevant to the boy as he grew older. Upon the shutdown of Residential schools, Justin was transferred into normal schools with normal humans. Despite the taunting, the incessant bullying, and the lack of support from staff, Justin was able to complete his years with overly exceptional grades. His father gave him the hope of attending any college he could've wanted, and spent years building a fund to do so. Justin knew of the controversy involving Awakened humans being kept out of establishments of higher learning but stayed optimistic for his father's sake.

Then, as life has a habit of doing, disaster struck him all at once. Joseph Locke was struck down in a freak accident on the job. Left the 18-year-old with whatever possessions he had left and his college fund was made available to him. He wanted to take that chance to pack up his things and leave. But then a protest for Awakened humans started in his neighborhood. He was barely involved but was curious enough to check it out anyway. The protest went south once the police got involved, and became unruly. Amidst the panic and anger of the crowd, Justin was arrested simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even as he managed to pay his bail, his status as an Awakened human changed from simply registered, to potentially dangerous.

Justin managed to live on his own for a couple of years afterward, bitter at the world around him. His attitude darkened, his heart hardened. Denied a college education due to extensive background checks, Justin used his college fund to hold on to his living arrangements for as long as he could. And even that was beginning to run out.

Criminal Record: One count of unlawful assembly. Two recorded counts of trespassing.

Known Talents: Between Justin's burgeoning intelligence, and his father's previous careers as an infrastructure and construction electrician, he has a hard efficiency in electrical wiring and schematic reading. Joseph had a tendency to bring work home, and Justin absorbed most of the knowledge passively. As he grew older, he began to branch out into the other fields of electrical work. His scope shrunk from skyscraper wiring to dismantling home appliances and creating his own software. Learned resistor codes, enjoyed the intricacies of soldering and circuit boards. In his late teens, he acquired a fixation for self-defensive electroshock tools and weapons. Learned how tasers ticked, prodded around cattle prods, and buried that knowledge into his own creations. His most recent creation was an electroshock glove he called "The Awe". In its most recent version, he's fashioned a simple potentiometer-based console that controls the amount of amperage he can administer.

Known Abilities: Justin has several documented accounts involving his above average intelligence. First noted at age 6, where (on a hunch) one of his teachers suggested he'd take a mental evaluation. He was reported to have had an IQ level of 103. Now at 20, his levels have seemed to plateaued at about 139, just around the "highly gifted" level of the "genius" designation. Intelligence will expand exponentially if given a chance at higher learning. His body (skin and organs, with the exception of his hair) is exceedingly resistant to generated and natural forms of plasma, as well as natural chemical reactions like fire. Cannot be burned, or subdued by electrical shock.
CrazyGirl17 said:
Legal Name: Emil Alexander Martin

Place/Date of Birth: Houston, Texas; July 24, 2025

Known Aliases: N/A

Appearance: Male, 5'9, shaggy black hair, gray eyes; he was last seen wearing a black hoodie over a gray T-shirt, baggy gray jeans with a black leather belt, black skate shoes, black fingerless gloves, silver ear studs, a silver crucifix necklace, and yellow headphones attached to an MP3 player and carrying a battered black backpack. He also his sister's name tattooed on his upper right bicep.

Psychological Profile: Diagnosed with Anti-Social Disorder at age 14, has a serious distrust of authorities; Cynical, sarcastic, suspicious, hot-tempered, impatient, but fairly intelligent and sensitive, bluntly honest, surprisingly loyal and protective of others he cares about.

Bio: Emil Martin was born in Houston Texas to German-American immigrants, living with his family (Klaus, a construction foreman; Wilhelmina, a florist, and younger sister Annie). His powers first manifested at around puberty, apparently used to save his sister from a drunk driver. He tried to hide his powers, but the stress made him become moody and withdrawn, soon turning towards petty crimes. This had serious ramifications on his family, especially with his rather authoritarian father. This only made things worse and served to drive a wedge between Emil and his family. When Emil was 16, he accidentally slipped up and used his powers in the middle of a fight at school. Emil was arrested, but used his ability to turn intangible to escape. He has been on the run for two years, using his powers to keep one step ahead of authorities.

Criminal Record: Vandalism and graffiti, Petty Theft, Resisting Arrest, Trespassing, Grand Theft Auto, Joyriding, Underage Drinking, Loitering, Shoplifting.

Known Talents: Hand-to-hand fighting, escape artist, parkour/freerunning, some technological-based and hacking skills, is a decent artist.

Known Abilities: Emil is able to change his body's density, becoming either intangible or super dense. In the former state, Emil can easily pass through solid matter. In the former, he gains superhuman strength and durability. Emil is also capable of solidifying air or water under his feet to walk upon, though this ability is limited to a short range around him.
PrinceOfShapeir said:
Legal Name: Christina Mary Caldwell

Place and Date of Birth: Fairchild, Nebraska, June 9th, 2022

Known Aliases: Vagari (Latin for Wanderer, root of Vagrant)

Appearance:
Height: 5'7
Weight: 101 pounds
Hair color: Brown
Hair style: Shoulder-length, hangs loose.
Eye color: Hazel


Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Subject exhibits extreme distrust of authority figures, extreme anti-religion, and a sort of paranoid-persecutive complex. She expects most kindnesses to have, at best, a a backhand to them. Despite this she can be very helpful to those she sees as being in as bad or worse spots than her, and on a certain level is aware that her paranoia is irrational. Subject exhibits a mild to moderate tobacco addiction, a moderate alcohol addiction, and a moderate heroin addiction. She has been through rehab for her heroin addiction and has stopped using for the moment, but the addiction remains.


Bio: Born in the Soldiers of God and Christ Cult, Vagari (subject refuses to be known by her birth name) spent most of her early years on the run, the cult leadership claiming that the government was attempting to silence them, until in 2033 when their leader, totally unrelated to the revoking of emergency powers, established the 'Promised Land' on the northern edges of the Mojave Desert, a fortified compound where they could practice their religion in peace - not that their religion had much of anything to do with peace. Vagari was thrown out of the cult at the age of 15 when she demonstrated her powers for the first time - specifically, by being found curled in the fetal position, still asleep, on the ceiling of the leader of the cult's bedroom. (Soldiers for God and Christ was raided by the ATF in 2039, and most of its adult membership arrested for child exploitation and weapons trafficking.)

Since her exile from the cult she walked and hitchhiked from city to city towards the western seaboard, and during her travels developed dependencies on alcohol, tobacco, and heroin, and was in and out of jail for a number of petty crimes, mostly minor acts of theft and trespassing.

During her stay at the Wayward Teens Homeless Shelter in Phoenix, Arizona she underwent rehab for her heroin addiction and was able to kick the drug with their assistance, although due to her refusal to stop coming to the shelter either with alcohol, or visibly drunk, she was eventually thrown out. That was six months ago, and her last sighting was at a Greyhound bus station, where she purchased passage to Idaho. She was not on the bus when it arrived at its destination, and her current whereabouts are unknown at this time.

Criminal Record: Petty theft, breaking and entering, trespassing, public intoxication.

Known Talents: Vagari is, when she's able, an avid reader of both fiction and non-fiction, low-brow schlock and advanced scientific texts. She'll tell you herself she doesn't understand most of the latter, but she tries, and as a result has a surprising breadth of knowledge, even if she's lacking in the theory. She's been itinerant for several years and has a pretty solid idea of how to survive on her own, how to steal what you need to survive, how to avoid the cops, avoid being seen in general. How to get into places you're not supposed to be - usually so she can sleep in someplace with working heat.
Known Abilities: Gravitic Relativity - Vagari's relation to gravity is relative. The

mechanism is unknown, but she is able to determine the direction in which gravity pulls her, enabling her to walk on walls or ceilings or, by clever fine tuning, enable crude flight by 'falling sideways'. As she fine tunes her powers she will be able to enhance, reduce, or eliminate gravity for herself, enabling her to enhance her weight for powerful stomps or reduce the effect of gravity on herself to allow to for example leap massive distances, or eliminate it to enable herself to hang motionless in midair. She has a long way to go before that point, however.
CloggedDonkey said:
Legal Name: Mohammad Kaveh Charmchi

Place and Date of Birth: Tehran Province, Tehran, Iran, July 20th, 2019

Known Aliases: Mo Smith

Appearance:
Sex: Male
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'9?
Weight: 120 lbs.
Ethnicity: Persian
Distinguishing features: Burns along the left shoulder blade down the left arm. Minor scarring across face, chest, and arms. Tattoo removal scars across back.

Psych Profile/Personality Analysis: Pyrophobia. Spent some time in the Tehran Psychiatric Institute for de-radicalizing. Generally reserved, though known to help others in need. Seems to abhor violence. Consult Doctor Aziz Sherazi for more information.

Bio: Born to a militant fighter and his wife just a few weeks after the Doomsday Scare, Mohammad spent his youth going from Tehran to training camps in the mountains of Iran. Though it is believed he never took part in any attacks, he does have firearms training and survival training, and should be considered dangerous if fought. Believed to be in a training program to make use of his ability, though not confirmed. On Februray 18th, 2029, an Iranian special forces raid targeted a training camp that Mohammad was currently staying at. A drone missile hit an ammo store, causing a large fire that trapped Mohammad before he was captured by Iranian forces. He was moved to the Tehran Psychiatric Institute. He spent the next six years there being de-radicalized before being deemed safe and released. He spent two years with family before immigrating to Canada, where he saw work as a dishwasher, then opened his own computer and electronics repair shop, Mo's Computer Repair. He currently resides in Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada.

Criminal Record: Connections to terrorism, petty theft

Known Talents: Firearms training, survival training, possible guerrilla warfare training, knowledge of electronics

Known Abilities: Limited technomancy. Can make devices function, or cease function, without needing all parts. For reference, has been known to carry a handgun modified to not have a trigger, fires via using his powers to move the firing pin. Has some difficulties with electronics, but can make some work. Possibly gives items used often a degree of sentience, contact Canadian authorities for further questions.
In the backwoods of Spokane county, Washington, the snow is melting. Just like that it's Spring again, and nothing yet has changed. A figure stands in a second floor window, gazing into the courtyard, her hands clasped behind her back. Her breath mists the windows and she is back lit by a fire. The fire is a pile of mattresses; bilious toxic smoke escapes through a hole in the ceiling from which drips melt water. A shape as skinny as a rake and infinitely sharper huddles by it, warming his hands upon the roaring flames, the fire in his eyes reflecting the fire in his heart. They have stood here in silence for some time; the rake is running out mattresses to burn, on this floor at least. He gives a hacking cough, breaking the silence, and sufficiently warmed he turns to the woman by the window.

"You don't expect them to come do you? A letter and directions to the middle of nowhere is hardly anything to go on," he meanders dismissively, with a pace and tone that fails to betray his nature as a firebrand. In days to come, this nature will be all too clear.
"If I made the right choice, they'll come; they have nowhere else to go."
The rake flexes his jaw, and it snaps and grinds. He stands and stretches his back, which cracks like a ballista arming, and now towers over the woman at the window. He leans over her head, staring out the some window. The courtyard does not stir. A once-frozen fountain now gurgles; its pump has been dying for years, and shows no sign of stopping. The rake watches with the woman for a time, then heaves a sigh, his hot breath overcoming all the condensation his mother had already created in the course of her contemplation. When his breath condenses, it condenses thick; it is sulphur yellow, and it runs down the window in lazy rivulets.
"I'd hope for your sake, but we both know that I do not care for it. I have my doubts about this experiment of yours, as I have had about all your experiments. That monster in the basement being one of them," the Rake mutters as he trods away, in search of new fuel, his every footfall breaking something blackened, charred. The woman tuts softly as he walks away.
"Josef is a guest, and I will not suffer unkindness to him; you must recall he is further from home than we could ever imagine."
She is not blessed with the gift of a response; the Rake is gone, rooms away, hunting for something else to destroy.

The Woman at the Window watches the Courtyard from the third floor of her Manor. Along an improperly maintained road, far away from her, a sign stands. Inscribed upon that sign (it is a heavy marble thing, perhaps 'chiseled' is more accurate a descriptor). Chiseled upon that sign is the following:
"Spokane County Awakened Residential School, care of the Matron Thurgood"

This long abandoned road will soon be disturbed from its decade long slumber by the footfalls and vehicles of those the Woman at the Window awaits. While she waits, she taps a titanium ring against the glass, and it rattles, ready to break.
 

CloggedDonkey

New member
Nov 4, 2009
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The border crossing was hellish. Having that kind of rap sheet, and being an Awakened, meant that, for Mohammad Charmchi, bringing anything besides the Ural M70 he rode in on, a backpack with granola bars, his travel papers, a few hundred dollars, and the clothes on his back was impossible. Couple that with a two day drive across most of Canada in early spring on a motorcycle, and it makes for one very unhappy man showing up at the abandoned residential school.

Mohammad had, thanks partially to his parents and partially to the Iranian government's low standards, been able to avoid Residential schooling, but he'd heard about them on the news. Places of torture, severe beatings, every kind of abuse imaginable, all in the name of "security." Awful places not fit for anyone to live in. So, obviously, they'd sent children there.

As he sped through the streets leading to the school, Mohammad tried to think why he was coming here. Sure, he didn't have a lot going on, but he had enough. He had his store with steady customers, he picked up some odd jobs here and there, really, things were looking up, considering his beginnings. Yet this letter seemed to call to him. He sped through his orders, put up a notice on the store's Facebook that he'd be gone for a little bit, a referral to another computer repair place, then got his bag together and rode out.

And that's what brought him here. He quickly eyes the marble sign as he passes by. So that's where she got her name. As Mohammad closes on the school, going down the poorly maintained road, he drops his speed down so as to not break something. As he pulls into the courtyard, he stops for a moment, looking around. Something with an acrid, toxic stench in the air burning from the dilapidated building, the fountain letting out little spurts, nature starting to reclaim this place. It reminded him of a few movies he'd seen of the end of the world.

He put the kick stand down on his bike, then dismounted it, the engine stopping when he stopped touching the machine. There wasn't any other way to start or stop the engine, with the motorcycle modified to not have any human interface elements, a little personal touch Mohammad had done up himself.

He pulled his jacket, a threadbare New Brunswick Hawks jacket he got from answering a question right on the radio, closer around him to keep the chill out. He leans against the bike for a moment, seeing if anyone else was coming, then moves towards the door, picking up a stone from the ground just in case.
 

CrazyGirl17

I am a banana!
Sep 11, 2009
5,141
0
0
Not too far down the road, a black sedan came to a stop. The passenger's side door opened and a young man stepped out, hiking a battered black backpack over his shoulder.

"You really wanna stop here?" The driver queried nervously, eyes darting towards the direction of the school.

"Yeah, this is the place. Thanks for the ride, man." Emil shut the door and began walking, behind him he heard the driver speed away.

Hitch-hiking was a pretty risky business, thankfully Emil's powers let him escape from unwanted situations pretty easily. They sure as hell had gotten him out of some pretty bad scrapes in the past.

Emil wrinkled his nose at the acrid scent coming from not too far off. "Great. Wonder what kinda nutjob I'm gonna meet this time." He muttered.

Still, he threw on his headphones and kept on walking. Not like he had anything better to do...
 

Yorg

New member
Mar 22, 2017
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Slush and gravel crunched under his feet as Ryan trudged along the side of the road at a brisk pace. He looked every bit the average hiker; muddied boots and jeans, with a red sports backpack slung over a dark blue polyester jacket zipped up to his neck. His clothes were muddy but not old or worn. His ample beard and shoulder length hair were wet but not unkempt. His face was heavily lined, though, his eyes were harsh, and his hair was the stark gray of a much older man. He had the look of someone ten years his senior, and the wrinkles on his brow were fixed in a near permanent frown.

Ryan tensed at the sound of an engine approaching. Presently a black sedan sped past him, spraying cold mist behind it. His eyes followed it warily until it disappeared around the bend ahead; it was the first car he'd seen in hours.

He continued on, and before long the a side road came into view. A large marble sign at the corner read "Spokane County Awakened Residential School" and underneath in smaller letters, "Care of the Matron Thurgood". It looked like someone had recently cut away the surrounding snowbrush and juniper from the sign's face, giving it the impression of an uncovered bone of some ancient beast. Green molds and dirt still clung to its crevices.

Ryan stopped at the sign and sniffed as he peered around. The wet spring air was heavy with the scent of rotting wood and new buds; maple and alder, chickweed and goat's beard. Purple dots speckling the roadside between patches of snow marked where harvest lilies would soon bloom. Every color was saturated under the overcast sky, and behind everything was the constant, quiet sound of water trickling.

As Ryan lowered his gaze he noticed tire tracks in the mud at the head of the driveway, and footprints. Someone had been dropped off, maybe only minutes ago. He tightened the straps on his backpack and eyed the driveway anxiously. It curved away into the dark fir trees fifty yards ahead. For a few moments he stood at the crossroads and listened, not moving. No engines approached from either direction on the main road, and nothing moved save water dripping from the surrounding trees. A crow called from somewhere deeper in the forest.

With an unsatisfied grunt Ryan started up the driveway, only taking his eyes off the next bend to glance behind him or quickly scan the woods on either side. He checked his pace, having no desire to catch up to whoever had arrived ahead of him.
 

Captainguy42

Is trapped in a title factory.
May 20, 2009
2,781
0
0
So this is where I get murdered. Octavio thought to himself as he spied the run-down school as he walked towards it. His skepticism skyrocketed when he got close enough to make out the sign. He had his own memories of an institution like this one, none of them were happy. At least his old school had been brand new at the time, this place looked condemned. He was starting to have second thoughts.

He took a step back but became aware of just how sore his feet were. He had hiked all day and knew it would be just as long to get back to anywhere he could stay the night. He was also out of food, water, and cash. There wasn't anything for him back in California and he had come all this way, he had to take a look. So he stepped forward and marched his weary feet towards the manor.

As he walked into the road he spotted another hiker with a beard and red backpack walking up the road, Octavio greeted him, " Hey, I'm guessing you're heading there too? Man I don't know what I was expecting."
 

Yorg

New member
Mar 22, 2017
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Ryan gave the young man a sharp look, then made a quiet sound that may have been a response.

The kid was average height and thin as a rail. His dark hair was wet and his shoes were muddy, meaning he'd probably hiked here just as Ryan had. He looked foreign. As they walked, Ryan turned his eyes back to the road, but kept the newcomer in the corner of his eye.

A caustic smell began to tint the air as they continued onward. The manor soon came into view, and Ryan inspected it with the same watchfulness. Dense evergreens hemed a dilapidated courtyard that was being slowly swallowed by weeds and low bushes. Two rusted cars, as old if not older than Ryan himself, sat in the drive. They'd clearly not moved in years. He was surprised to see water bubbling from a grimy fountain in the center of the courtyard. Up a flight of low steps at the far end sat the manor itself. It was still an impressive building despite its disrepair.

Ryan spotted another person walking ahead of them, a teenager by his looks. He wore a black hoodie and baggy jeans, and Ryan thought he caught the glint of earrings. As they neared the manor Ryan saw an old motorcyle parked near the entrance and another figure climbing the steps to the front door. He slowed his pace.
 

PrinceOfShapeir

New member
Mar 27, 2011
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Vagari - Ari for short - had hated the north ever since she'd gotten on that Greyhound bus to it. Sure, Arizona and Nevada had their problems, namely dust and people trying to kick her ass for sleeping on a park bench, but at least there she wasn't frozen to the bone on a clear spring day. On the other hand, this place had trees and lots of them, so she didn't -entirely- hate it.

Ari wasn't paranoid, honest. She just didn't trust people. So instead of getting on the road she paralleled it. She stood on a tree, balancing easily on the huge oak log, and looked up through a winding maze of trees jutting sideways out of the Earth, and wondered if anyone had ever had -that- perspective before. From outside she knew it must look bizarre, a woman standing sideways mostways up a huge oak, but for her it felt completely normal.

Although she admonished herself, not for the first time, that she needed a few things. One, she noted as she noticed she had gripped too tightly and crushed her cigarettes, she needed zippered pockets instead of trying to hold onto this shit mid-fall. Two, she really needed clothes that fit a little more and didn't dangle ridiculously when she wasn't playing nice with Earth's gravity. She shrugged - it was whatever - and leapt for the next tree. As her hands touched it she took her point of gravity - the tree she had just leapt from - and shifted it to the one she now held onto. Ari couldn't have described the sensation or mechanism if she had a hundred years and a chalkboard the size of South Dakota, but it worked fine, and that was what counted. There was that familiar lurch in her gut as gravity suddenly reversed directions, a shudder from her inner ear as her body did something that as far as its basest instincts were concerned couldn't happen, and then she was lying on another tree.

It wasn't the most graceful movement in the world, but it worked, it was fairly quiet, and it avoided attention. And plus, she hadn't had an opportunity to really practice with her powers that often. This was fairly old hat for her, but when you haven't worn that old hat that often even the oldest of old hats still needs to be flexed, and somewhere this metaphor got lost.

She could glimpse the destination in the distance, and decided to stretch her wings a little bit, picking out a large tree a good bit closer to the road for a clearer vantage point. She remembered reading that if you rolled with the impact you could soften it, that seemed simple enough. It wasn't that far anyway. So she'd just shift...and she was falling.

This might have been a mistake, she thought as she dropped towards it. Ten feet doesn't seem very far at all to walk, but when you're falling it suddenly seems like very far indeed. She landed feet first and did her best - and a decent job of it - to roll with the impact. It still hurt like a, "************!" Ari shouted.

That was really stupid. Both parts, actually. And she could only imagine the sight along the ground, of her essentially spinning around the trunk of a tree. She'd seen video of herself in action a few times, and those minor stunts had been surreal enough to look at. As the throbbing in her knees subsided she straightened up, noting that she'd crushed her cigarettes to basically dust with a glance of disgust, and took a look.

"Oh good..." She muttered as she took a look at the mansion. "I was worried I might be overdressed."

Given that she hadn't washed in two weeks, hadn't used shampoo in two months, and had been wearing the same unwashed clothes for three months that was saying something, and it wasn't like a hoodie, a pair of jeans, and tennis shoes that were about six months past their expiration date judging by the wear on the sole and toe. But on the other hand, she only stank like sweat and cheap liquor. Ari may not have had super senses, but she could tell this place smelled like black mold, urine, and regret. Great.

She straightened up and proceeded to walk down the length of the trunk, shifting gravity as she reached the end and stepping onto the side of the road, then beginning her walk up towards this place. What were they going to do, kill her and put her out of her misery? She'd already lost her cigarettes, she didn't have anything left to lose.
 

CloggedDonkey

New member
Nov 4, 2009
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Upon hearing voices and movement behind him, Mohammad turns back. Some kids and a few hobos. He was either about to get jumped, or these were others that got the messages. Either way, he'd have better luck up close than letting them have space. He raises a hand as a greeting, slowly approaching them. "Hey." He shouts out, his voice still carrying the slightest accent. He'd tried hard to lose it, finding that getting by without it was easier than getting by with it. "Not looking for trouble, just meeting somebody." He adds.

He eyes up the two walking together, then the one that just landed, then the one on their own. Not really a threat, probably just others that got his messages. "None of you would happen to be 'The Matron,' are you?" He asks, focusing on the woman who just flew in especially.
 

NeoAC

Zombie Nation #LetsRise
Jun 9, 2008
8,574
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What the hell am I doing here? Why am I doing this?

As the classic rock strains of Blink-182 blasted over the speakers of the Audi S17 that tore through the Washington forests, it wasn't the lip-synced lyrics that strained through the drivers mind. It wasn't the thought that the arboreal countryside made for a nice change from Nevada desert and Idaho nothingness.

It wasn't the thought that the Audi was due back at the rental place off the Strip three days ago. No, those were Amanda Nelson's problems. And she skipped town. Good luck finding the girl with the half-dyed green hair and totally not-fake tattoos.

No, the thoughts that ran through the driver's head were of her motivations in coming out to some forsaken God's country just to answer a letter she wasn't sure was a fake. Or a trap. Or a fake trap.

But it was better to be alive and wondering the answers to these questions than dead in a Clark County ditch.

The Audi continued along what seemed like a rather lonely path out to the indicated address. Asking around in Spokane did nothing to allay her fears about what exactly she was doing coming up to the Pacific Northwest. The supposed building hadn't been seen or cared about since the days when the residential schools were in effect. Horror stories told of the crimes committed in the name of protecting the populace.

The driver never had to know those horrors. She had been far too young. The government unaware of the abilities she possessed. Not even sure about what she possessed now. Or how this Matron woman managed to get into contact with her. If this Matron woman even existed.

But if she did, maybe that was why the driver was here. To learn about what she could do. To test the limits of her potential talents. Maybe they could do more than extend a dice roll or change the gear of a slot machine. Maybe there was a greater purpose.

Or maybe there was a casino across the border in Idaho she could hit up to replace the money she left behind in Vegas.

It wasn't really left behind. All safe in a bank account, waiting for Alexis Crosby to come back and claim it.

Too bad Alexis had to leave town in such a hurry too.

Someday I'll come back when the heat dies down and thank you properly, Shang. You're one of the good ones. Enjoy those Raiders tickets if you can.

As she pulled down the driveway that led towards the intended destination, those questions she worried about started to yield unsavory answers. The building looked neglected, forgotten, and most importantly, on fire given the smoke rising from it. Maybe it was a welcome fireplace burning, but the outside ruled against that thought. The car husks sitting on the front lawn reminded the driver of her trip through the remains of Alabama, cleaning out those rednecks of their remaining treasures.

But what really set off the alarm bells for the driver were the people now clustered around a fountain that was barely squirting out water. A Middle Eastern man preciously guarding a motorcycle that looked like it belonged in a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon. A couple of kids, not much younger than the driver herself, either hitchhikers or wanderers but with nowhere near the means to enjoy the life she enjoyed. Another shielded by a jacket, but not looking like they moved with the vigor of youth. And the hobo, female, looking like they smelled of the streets and of discarded food. They just started to mingle together, yet all of them looked as trustworthy as a wooden Trumpbuck.

So here's your holidaaaaayyyyyyy... Hope you enjoy it this time, you gave it all awaaaaaayyyyy...It was mine...So when you're dead-

The music was silenced. The driver tilted her Raybans, as if in disbelief that this really was the place she had driven all this way to see. Green eyes saw no lies. She had changed into driving clothes, a comfy pair of jeans, a black tank top, a blacker jacket when she reached the nippy Idaho air, and she still had every one of these vagrants outdressed to the nines. She nervously fiddled with her silver bracelet with the emerald inlays, now feeling vulnerable in the middle of nowhere. Not wanting to expose any part of herself to these undesirables. Aware of how naked she was, even sitting in her silver chariot. A new thought occurred,

Why didn't I fucking spring for the tinted windows?

It was a momentary distraction from her real problems, like what was the quickest way out of the area, and where she was going to get her next bankroll from to get back into the black. But for the moment, frozen by uncertainty and fear, Mia Riley sat in her now technically stolen Audi. Unsure whether to peel out of the driveway or let them think that she was the danger, Mia stayed put for the moment, weighing her options.
 

Awan

A Thing That Happened
Mar 7, 2015
34
0
0
From a fourth story window, a Rake dragging mattresses spies something strange. Something he has not seen since he was a child, far before his ship ran aground and he was rendered into the rib frames of it and nought else. At first, he could not believe his eyes (These would not be the first such hallucinations he had suffered), but nonetheless he dropped the mattress and threw himself against the window. No doubt in the mind of The Rake now; there were visitors in the courtyard. Mother's mad and half-baked scheme was coming to bear fruit. Unacceptable, impossible, no reality would allow for such a thing, and yet here it was, staring and slapping him in the face by it's simple existence. The stress started up another coughing fit; yellow spit hit the glass in heavy drops and the glass turned black in an instant, and as the resultant vapour hit his skin a fire burned and blackened his bald head before water condensed upon it, mixing with the sweat that had begun to form in heavy layers. The Rake, shuddering, shaking, fearful, angry, turned away from the window, set his mark, and took off, pounding his way down the wooden steps. On the second floor, he tumbled, but went with the roll continuing down the stairs, his once-white shirt turning a fresher and darker shade of the yellow it had already been stayed over the years he had worn it. He reached the first floor with no plan, having acted on basic instinct and winding up where it leaves most; scared and ready to fight to the death. He stood, panting and shaking, all six foot six of him, across the hall from the heavy double front door, flexing and winding his wrists, which cracked and ground and popped with sounds appropriately befitting his anxiety.

From the same third story window, the Matron Thurgood watched the courtyard, relishing the chance to assay her candidates personally from afar. She heard violent movement somewhere else in the house; no doubt her boy had also noticed their visitors and was taking the steps he deemed appropriate. She would go down and attempt to control him when more had arrived; she wanted as much time as possible to get used to the idea of interacting with her esteemed guests. She had no company save for her boy and Josef for ten years, all she needed instead brought to her by runners and drones she would program and send out to collect from the nearby townships individually. She reached for tea, which steamed ceaselessly in the cold of the house, held it to her for warmth, and took a sip. They were an interesting assortment; almost exactly what she had expected from reading their dossiers, but some people must be witnessed in the flesh to truly grasp the shape of them; Mr Strias, in particular, was a specimen of some note, as well as Madam Vagari, whose reckless use of her powers seemed unbefitting of someone of her past; perhaps those addictions that had been mentioned were some variety of death seeking to circumvent or allay a desire to end it all. More than this ran through the Matron's mind; the various ways in which her guests could be manipulated and controlled and understood scientifically ran there also, great deltas of thought running all at once. After more of this than would be kind, she shook her head, and looked down at herself, closing her eyes. Such unkindness was supposed to be behind her. She was here to help these people, not experiment on them. That was Josef's job.
 

PrinceOfShapeir

New member
Mar 27, 2011
1,849
0
0
"What do you think, chumley?" She said to the scarred-up Arabic guy. "Underneath the smell of two weeks of BO and all the shit I've got ground into my clothes, no, I'm not a fifty plus woman." She fumbled open her packet of cigarettes and withdrew a bundle of crushed and mutilated smokes, digging her lighter out of her back pocket and one of the smokes that was less crumpled and shredded than the others, lighting up and taking a long drag, feeling some of her nerves drain away as the smoke filled her lungs. She blew it out in a long stream. "I'd offer to share, but they didn't exactly survive the journey." She took a moment to sort through them, pushing the ones that were beyond saving into her hoodie's front pocket. She could try and salvage something out of them later. She was left with three remaining more or less intact ones, and wasn't looking forward to when those ran out. She frankly had no idea where the nearest gas station was to here, and she was -pretty- sure that Oregon had bumped up the smoking age, like Cali and Hawaii, so getting them would be an even bigger irritation.

She turned around as an honest to god car pulled up the driveway, a change from the collection of destitute messes that seemed to be percolating into this place like so much sewer runoff, Vagari herself included. Nice car, too. -Really- nice car. Vagari ran through some options in her head - a wealthy awakened? Not likely. Possible, but unlikely. Rich people had a hard time keeping their heads down and maintaining their wealth, and Awakened who didn't keep their heads down tended to wind up dead. The cops could always find a reason to murder an Awakened, Ari thought. Too nice and too foreign to be one of the Feds, most of them didn't rate anything nicer than a Ford Taurus.

Someone who just pulled up the wrong driveway? Investor? Stolen? The Matron?

Ari leaned down and looked in the window - young woman, twenty-five, thirty-ish. Normal. Maybe the legitimate car owner. "I'd say this one is more likely our Matron, but I doubt it. Someone's inside." She tilted her head at the plume of smoke rising over the estate as she turned her attention away from the Audi and its driver. "Best guess is that she's in there...the real question is, why in the Hell would anyone set up a haven for Awakened in -this- place? It's bad enough that it's a rotted out McMansion, but this is like inviting a bunch of Sioux to an old burned out aboriginal residential school."

"And what the -fuck- is that sound? Sounds like someone is beating a cat against the windows." She glanced around at the others who had trickled up. "Yeah, I know what that sounds like, don't ask."
 

Silence

Living undeath to the fullest
Legacy
Sep 21, 2014
4,326
14
3
Country
Germany
"Are you sure you are going to the right place?" her driver asked Dana, as they traveled along a really bumpy road. This was a really old cab, you could feel it, and the taxi driver was definitely not used to going out this far into the country. To be fair, neither was Dana.
"Yes." she answered regardless, putting back the doubts in her mind. She had triple-checked the adress before going across the border, she could not be wrong.

The cab slowed to a crawl and the driver spoke up again, which was maybe the most he had spoken since starting the ride: "Are you sure you know what you are doing here?" There was concern in his voice. 'No.' Dana thought, but she answered differently: "Umm... yeah. I think so. Why do you ask?" This could not be a place dragging her down as much as the last appartment in Vancouver. This had to be a new chance.

The car stopped. The guy opened the door on his side, and spoke again: "Nevermind then." As he helped her out on her side, Dana took in the sounds and smells of this site. There were a few people here, smelling various amounts of bad, speaking with one another. And there was a large structure in front of her. A mansion.

The taxi driver dropped off her two bags next to her. "Well, I'm out of here. Good luck." he said, and vanished. And then there was pounding and some kind of screams at the mansion, and Dana was a lot more scared than she had been before. "Wait!" she called out, as she heard the motor start and the cab drive away in a hurry.

"Shit ..." she said to herself, as she was just standing there in the courtyard, wearing a casual outfit consisting of dark sunglasses, a white shirt and a black jacket, sneakers and black trousers, next to her bags, hoping she had not just made the biggest mistake of her life.
 

spiritGuide

New member
Mar 23, 2017
6
0
0
Shalim's feet hit rhythmically one after the other, crunching on the gravel path as they had been for the last half hour. He had only managed to hitchhike so far, and so began jogging the last 5 or 6 miles from the nearest town. He was beginning to feel the burn in his thighs with all the extra weight and rocking from his backpack. He'd seen a couple of cars pass him on the way up, and assumed that he must be going in the right direction. By the time he caught sight of them again it was at least another 15 minutes. Noting the dilapidated manor he slowed down to a walk to warm down and compose himself.

Thinking about having to meet a new bunch of people did nothing to get his heart-rate down and his sweat began turning cold in the chill spring air. Untying the thick duffel coat from around his waist, he re-arranged himself to keep himself insulated and in part to give him a sense of security.

He began thinking about why he accepted this random request. He had to conclude that the air of mystery gave him something resembling hope- more of escapism than any real chance of improvement. It was fairly well timed too as he'd have to be changing employment anyway on the account of his colleagues nearly forcing him into a fight the other day. He didn't want to have to be put into a position where he would have to use his ability without thinking. Only through careful timing and releasing only some of the facts to the authorities that he'd been afforded the amount of freedom he'd had up until now. There were still relatively large gaps in his document and he intended to keep it that way. In any case he was here now, and the small amount of adrenaline from his run was keeping his nerves in check. He took a deep breath as he managed to make out figures and voices down the road ahead.

Shalim immediately stopped in his tracks. He was within a stones throw of the manor now, and he made out the sign. Images of fire and screams and haunting silhouttes rushed through his head, overcoming him with nausea. He dropped to his knees, fighting back the bile he could feel clamouring its way up his throat. 'What kind of sick joke is this, bringing these kinds of people to this place' he muttered desperately to himself. He looked up to see the looming figures by the windows. Was it a trap after all? Has the government had enough of me? Can I handle this? all these questions swelled in his mind exacerbating the nausea. He clutched his head. Breaths became more erratic and shallow before finally one long exhale. 'I need to move on from that.' 'I don't have to be a frightened boy I once was.' Shalim let the mindfulness he had trained restore his composure and he raised up from his knees in a practiced movement and completely emptied his lungs before opening his eyes again to meet staring faces.

His ritual gained confidence and composure practically felt him, his face dropping to a more timid expression and gravitated to the edge of the drive by a tree. 'Fuck first impressions' he scorned himself sardonically.
 

Pm0n3y

An emaciated shadow
Jul 29, 2009
6,344
0
0
?Alright Justin! Today?s the day!? An exasperated yell was accompanied by a series of heavy knocks. 56-year-old Robert Hope had owned the three story complex Justin and Joseph Locke resided in since the early 2010s. The landlord was in the process of evicting the young 20-year-old. Between the boy?s abrasive attitude, late rent payments, and his status as an ?Awaker? left the balding man in a bit of a sour mood. It was a long time coming, honestly. Once Joe passed, Mr. Hope was essentially counting down the days until Justin ran out of money.

?Don?t make me call the authorities!? The landlord yelled and banged again. (Fun Fact: eviction is considered a civil matter by the law, and cannot be enforced by the police. Mr. Hope could twist another trespassing on the boy, however.) ?I don?t know what they do to you people, but I bet it ain?t nothing good!? About a story up, and in his bedroom, Justin could easily ignore the threats. Instead, he was in the process of packing a bag.

?Fucking hell.? He mumbled feverishly as he unravelled and laid out circuit blueprints and schematics. ?Can?t bring none of my shit with me?? He grew frustrated as he tools pictures with his phone. If he hoped to fly across country, it meant he would have to show up to the airport with clothes and not much else. It?s one thing to try and pass homemade defense weapons and suspicious-looking blueprints under airport scanners and through metal detectors. It?s another thing entirely to try and do that while being considered an inhuman mutant.

Sheesh, could you imagine? They'd lock him up in some TSA-owned dungeon and he'd never see the light of day ever again. Either that or they'd publicly execute him right there in the terminal. Luckily for him, modern day camera phones meant he could take pictures that he could keep. As long as he had his schematics in some way or form, his creations would continue to live. Once he was certain he had all the pictures he needed, he resumed shoving clothes into a dingy brown duffel bag. He paused as he caught sight of the letter invading his peripheral vision. It rested on his cluttered computer stand, with a message that spurred the boy?s rise to action.

The nature of the paper was almost less than simple; a cryptic message on some surprisingly nice stationary:

?If you are Awakened, and seek prosperity,
Trace the path of SCARS
And find what you seek.?

Under that, were some coordinates that brought Justin to some old house in Washington, a busted Residential School.

?This better be fucking worth it.? He mumbled beyond gritted teeth, shoving the letter into his pocket. Whether it was worth it or not, he didn't have much of a choice otherwise. The last of his money went into this venture. If it turned out to be some sort of scam, or a weird murder-cult, he was going to be stuck on the west coast.

As he slung his prepared duffle over his shoulder, he gave one last longful look at the contents of his room. His creations, his memories, his family, it was all being left behind. He let out a frustrated sigh before exiting the house.

Naturally, the landlord met him on the staircase, eager to greet him. ?Where's the rest of your shit?? Old Man Hope spat as the boy shoved past him. ?Right where I left it.? Justin grumbled in frustration. ?How?s ?bout you go back in there and get the rest of it?? The landlord suggested angrily. The request was less of an ?ask?, and more of a ?tell?.

?Nope. Throw it away if you want. I ain't coming back here.? Justin was heading down the street by this point. ?Good! Ya fuckin? non-humie.? The landlord muttered to the nerd?s back.

[hr]

Today?

Getting to Washington wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been...for an Awakened human, at least. The seat he had assigned to him was taken by a couple who refused to move, and the flight attendants did nary to fix. He might've been a tier away from hanging with the pets in the cargo hold. Nevertheless, he touched down safely after the flight.

?Spokane county...wherever the fuck that is?? He mumbled as he piled himself into an awaiting cab. ?Get me to...SCARS?? The driver looked as confused as Justin sounded. He quickly scoured his brain to find a better name; he remembered seeing it in full when he found it on a map. ?Uh, the Spokane County Awakened Residential School. That place.? Justin clarified. The taxi driver still displayed some confusion, but at least he had a better understanding of his destination.

?You...Awakened?? The driver asked with caution. ?Yup.? Justin replied simply. The driver seemed hesitant to continue the conversation. ?Oh calm down, Shahid. I ain't one?a those powerful ones. Can't shoot anything outta my hands.? Justin took in the depressing gray scenery from then on.

It was a solid 45-minute drive before they slowed down a sloppy, gravel path that lead to an ancient, worn manor. The look the boy wore was one of utter disbelief. ?Whaat the fuuuuuuuuck?? He uttered breathlessly as he stared down the hot mess laid before him. The driver nodded in simple reply before asking for payment.

?Sure, whatever. You take debit?? Justin looked like he was about to puke. The driver nodded, and the boy handed him the old plastic card. He didn't wait for him to give it back.

?Thanks. As-salāmu ?alaykum, Muhammad.? Justin quickly replied as he exited the vehicle. That comment garnered a proper response from the taxi driver. ?I'm not Muslim you fuck-? Justin missed the tail end of that colorful comment as he slammed the taxi door shut.

With a cautious meander, Justin approached the rundown mansion. ?I'm not the only one here, surprisingly?? It didn't take much for him to notice the gaggle of individuals grouped up in the courtyard.
 

Captainguy42

Is trapped in a title factory.
May 20, 2009
2,781
0
0
The other hiker was standoffish, everyone else seemed to have no clue why they were here, the air smelled like death, the estate was in disrepair, something was making a racket in the house, and if Octavio was piecing things together everyone here was an Awakened. The fact that he hungry, thirsty, and hadn't been dry in over a week didn't help his paper thin patience either.

" Yup, this place is totally fucked," Octavio said what felt like the biggest understatement of his life. He started searching for the source of the commotion and saw the door. "Screw this! I'm not waiting to see what the hell is going on!" He started marching up the stairs toward the great double doors, clenching his fists and expecting a fight. Had Octavio been in a better state of mind he might of thought twice about confronting whatever was behind the door. He reached the door and grabbed the handle; but because it was locked or just in disrepair it didn't open immediately. He held his palm out to the knob and was just about to blast door open before he caught himself, instead he balled up his fist and started aggressively knocking on the door, "Hey!" He yelled, "Well you got us here! So just what the fuck is going on!"