Author:
K-chan
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Date Posted: 14:10:30 07/29/02 Mon
Real Name: Jake Parkins
Aka: Hack
Sex: Male
Descent: Caucasian ((Ironically, I think I misspelled that.))
Age: 14
Height: 5'4"
Build: Skinny ((Since I'm pitiful at knowing appropriate weight. xX; ))
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Dark Blond
Power(s): Able to communicate with all things computer or electronic with a touch, literally "talking" to them. Through this he is also capable of "infecting" or "healing" a program. He is not fully aware of this ability.
Power(s) Origin: Benevolent mutation.
Typical Attire: Large, many-pocketed tan shorts. Black t-shirt with the words "We were crazy, but we're better now." on the front in white. Overlarge, baggy, olive green jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Sneakers. Chronically rumpled hair.
Demeanor: Quiet and shy around those he doesn't know, which barely hides a quick temper. With puberty wreaking havoc on his emotions, he can seem highly erratic at times, acting or speaking on his feelings before thinking. A fairly normal young teenageer.
Profession: High School Freshman.
Real Name: Koshi Hotami
Aka: Shard
Sex: Male
Descent: Asian
Age: 24
Height: 5'10"
Build: Average
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Black
Power(s): Able to form glass-like crystals from the air. These are sharper and more durable than the substance they resemble, and must be created within six inches of his hands or an existing crystal. Impossible to smooth, they always have razor-sharp edges and points. Their cutting power is most effective on soft or biological substances, and far less so on hard things such as rock or metal.
Power(s) Origin: Benevolent mutation.
Typical Attire: Dark navy slacks, black buisness shoes, white button-up shirt with collar undone. Watch on left wrist. Medium-length hair kept in a ponytail.
Demeanor: Cautious, but friendly and open. Enjoys talking about his work, or artistic forms in general, from a musical piece to a sunset.
Profession: Sculptor.
It is a literal paradise. A utopia on Earth. The privately-owned island known to the world as Outer Heaven, home and retreat to one man. Donovan Hartwell, heir and now owner of the world's single largest corporate empire. Handed down through the Hartwell family, HMI (Hartwell Markson Inc.) has ties to everything from hospitals, to banks, to convenience stores....it is so infused with society that most of its employees do not -know- they are its employees. It is a financial juggernaut, and those finances, power, and influence have ensured that the current owner has had the absolute -best- of -everything- from the first day of his life. And he has personally ensured that will continue, on Outer Heaven. It is legally its own nation. There is a passable energy dome that extends twenty miles in all directions from the coast, monitoring and controlling all things from security and defense to the weather itself. It is always beautiful on Outer Heaven. There are no intruders. No one enters but those deemed perfect enough to fit this paradise by Donovan himself.
He is God here.
There are times when he must leave for some bit of buisness or other. HMI's executive headquarters is located among many others in New York City, though it too is an imposing building. A giant skyscraper of glass, steel, and polymers. For now however, as most of the time, he is at home in his private Kingdom.
He lounges in a spa, shaped from the natural surroundings of the island. His every whim is tended by women of perfect looks and charm, perfectly obedient. He looks his part. A perfect example of the human species in every way. Incredibly fair skin, short and neat platinum-colored hair, pure blue eyes. He appears almost carved of marble, and has a body sculptors would die to carve. In his hand is a wine glass, delicately held for the servant lowering herself to refill it. It is all....absolutely -perfect-.
A single drop spills.
A small dot of red liquid on his skin from the tiniest bit of incaution while pouring. He considers it for a moment before another girl dabs it off with a napkin. He takes a sip, looking off into the distance and listening to the tropical birds. Then he speaks, in perfect tones, to his closest. His Right Hand. Chosen by him to be all she has become. He never even looks at her, trusting her implicitly.
"Zephyr. She made a mistake."
Another pause, to watch a bird pluck a struggling fish from the pond nearby. He thinks on Adam, and of Eve, cast from Eden for their Sin of imperfection.
"Kill her."
((My character enters! Actual action is at the bottom..))
Name: Zephyr
Age: 20
Appearance: She's one of those girls that just walks down the street and
turns heads. Proportionally, she's no less than perfect. On top of that,
she's built to the point of sheer beauty. Primed muscles span every inch of
her body, under ivory skin. Her eyes are a light emerald; her hair is cropped
and raven black. She's a good height -5'8"- and very graceful on her feet.
She is every runway model's nightmare, and boy does she know it. Normally
seen in tan leather…leather everything- boots, floor length trench coat, the
works.
History/Background: She was once sickeningly rich, but in a stock market
crash, her family lost every penny they had. So she learned how to survive in
the city without the help of others. She joined an underground crime ring
when she was 14 in order to live and became Hell with a knife. Not only that,
but her mentor made her pretty handy with an Uzi as well.
Powers: None as of the present. She was not born with any special talents,
but when she's on a hunt, she's like the wind. First here, then gone…a shadow
amongst shadows
----------------------------------------- How did she come to be at his
side? She can't even really remember how they met in the first place…but he
had offered her a good gig, and what respectable daughter wouldn't take the
opportunity to reestablish her parent's pride-not to mention their credit- if
the largest corporate owner in the area gave it to her. She's no fool.
As always, she stood to his right when he gave the order to end the life
of one of his girls. After all, she was imperfection, and what good was that
to him? None, that's what. And if it's of no use to Donovan, than it's of no
use to her. Without even an acknowledgement of the command, she opens her
tanned leather coat and slips out a well-kept dagger from a loophole sewn to
the inside liner.
Her technique is no less than masterful. Before the girl even had time to
gasp at the audacity of her employer's order, there was a knife in the back
of her throat. A slight gurgle, and Zephyr twists the knife so that its flat,
blade looking up to Heaven…if the blade were able to even comprehend Heaven
and Hell. With one slick motion, the blade is removed and is cleaned off with
its victim's own clothing before being returned to its home inside the
floor-length trench coat. Not a drop of blood is spilt; the cut was so
precise. Zephyr, having done her duty, catches the slain and suffocated girl
with one arm and hands her to the other who had cleaned up the wine for
disposal.
"Taken care of."
((I don't really know how exactly this whole email thing comes into play, or how it works, but I'm sure someone will help me out **Smiles** So here's my best go at it, my chars description and a post of her whereabouts))
Name: Memnocha (pronounced Memnoka) Parks
Age: 17
Sex: Female
Descent: Irish-American background
Height: 5'8''
Weight: 135
Eyes: Blue, with an almost silver tint
Hair: Black, with blue highlights rolling through the waist long locks
Clothing: Typical clothing of a teenage girl, though her body is quite above average for her age. Her body is well developed in exactly the right places, her flat stomach holding a belly button piercing, able to be seen when she is wearing her usual small black tank top, accompanied by her small jean shorts. The outfit is finished off by simple tennis shoes, ones that allow her to run easily should she have to.
Demeanor: Somewhat typical rebel child, though she has a good head on her shoulders. She was told her parents died when she was young, though few know the truth that they abandoned her because of her mutant abilities. Before she was abandoned, however, her step-father (Her father did actually die before she was born) abused her in every way imaginable. She has the ability to think quickly on her feet, and is very street smart. She's survived on her own on the streets for most of her life, and takes a while to trust anyone, especially someone who works for any of the corporations nearby.
Profession: Thief, fighter, anything that will help her survive.
((Now for the post. Still not sure how the whole thing works, but its worth a shot))
On the streets of New York, the young girl walks along alone, hair pulled back in a long braid. Always on the lookout for trouble, her bluish eyes constantly scan the streets. She lets her eyes stop on the large building in the distance, one of the large businesses, shaking her head and muttering before continuing on. She touches the wallet she holds in her pocket, one she lifted from someone a few blocks back, and ponders what she'll eat tonight with the new-found money. Again looking to the large building, she mutters something a tad unfriendly about the Hartwell family, despising the wealth of that one family, the power of that one family, while so many she knows, including herself, go without. She again shakes her head, finally deciding to stop at a deli and get herself something to eat. She hasn't eaten in a few days, and her form is beginning to show such. Her stomach seems to curve inward more then usual, though her muscles are still well formed and easily seen in the small outfit she wears. She was raised on the streets, her arms and legs particularly showing muscle from her hardships, though her stomach holds a faint six-pack. Once inside the deli, she spots a few regulars that she knows, giving a faint nod before ordering her food and exiting quickly. She is weary of most men, due to her past. Again on the move, she doesn't stay in one place for very long, not wanting to be labeled a 'freak', as she has seen happen to others who can do special things, as she can. She's also not particularly interested in being labled the thief that she is, not really proud of what she has to do to survive, but able to live with it. Before she knows it she's reached the bottom of the Hartwell headquarters, and stands across the street, eating as she glares at the building. She's heard things about the Hartwells that make her shiver, not anxious to meet the now owner of the building.
((Umm...yeah. Thats it for now. Please, let me know if I've done anything wrong, etc. Thanks! ))
((I'm sort of new to this too but I'll try. o__o;))
Name- Helena Clauser
Age- 19
It happened suddenly. She went to sleep a perfectly ordinary woman. Five feet and six inches in height...a little short but it had never bothered her. Shoulder length rich brown hair over a nice figure. Then she woke up looking the same...only now twelve feet tall. Her bed was partially cracked under her and her clothes were no more than tatters on the floor. Her first reaction was fright. Then wonder. She was....TALL! And just as she thought it she grew another three feet. "No no no waaaaiiit!" And just as suddenly...she shrank back to her normal height. Her eyes roved over her body curiously. And the rest of the day was spent testing her abilities.
She found she could not shrink under her natural height. But her growth seemed to have no limits. There was only so far she could go in her apartment without discovery. So after getting dressed she made her way to the only people she could think of. The Avengers Mansion. Always recruiting and with training facilities for non active members. After proving she could do what she said she was admitted on a trial basis...all she really wanted was a place to go safely. She was issued a skintight suit of unstable molecules, one that would change size without tearing. And soon she was given her codename....Expansion. As it turned out sixty feet was the highest she could get.
Now she's technically on call for them. But most of the time she's left to her normal life...working as a waitress. She's just getting off work and stops outside next to a girl eating her lunch. As she puts on her jacket she follows the girl's gaze to the incredible corporate building across the street...HMI. "It's amazing isn't it?" She smiles and looks up. "I'd love to work there. I hear they pay really well!"
Appearance, powers, personality, typical location, team membership...
Name: Ryan Kellaham, son of Doctor Kellaham
Age: 14
Appearance: Sandy brown hair that is tied into a tiny ponytail on his neck, with light stubble collected upon his cheeks and chin, a goofy smile usually on his lips, along with a rosey, child-like blush. Eyes are oceanic-blue, also. He stands at 5'9, and usually wears a backwards NY hat. Over-shirt a red plaid, and jeans, with a white shirt under the over-shirt.
Powers: The powers of this boy is mere genius. Video arcades and combinations are his specialty, and "patterns" are great challenges to him. Wacky inventions usually come out of this "genius", and some go horribly wrong. Not only that, but the boy is a thief, and has a quick eye, as well as a quick hand.
Typical Location: Anywhere on the streets, man!
Team membership: Not on a team. Don't need another team...
Personality: Confident, warm-hearted but too stubborn and used to being alone to show it. Goofy.
Ryan Kellaham was only seven years old when his parents were taken from him, by a merciless band of killers. " Let's start with the kid." The hired assassins of three stepped forward, the gleam of the knife catching the boy's eye more than anything, and he feared the one's who wielded them, more than anything. But before the knife could make a clean cut, his parents fought back with only bear hands, vainly struggling against them, shoving them backward, away from their son. " Ryan, get out of here!" begged his father, desperately putting up a struggle with all three men. " B... but ..." was their child's beginning reply. In seconds however, and given his tender, young age, the boy fled to hide behind a street lamp. He turned his little head, just in time to see all three men shove his beloved father back against the wall, with his mother hung onto her husband out of pure fear. The man in front reached into a trenchcoat. " Shuddup. If yer so eager to die ... " Gunshots went off. Screams, of his own parents, filled the night air. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tightly, afraid to open them, clinging to the thought that it was all a crazy dream. That maybe, afterward, his parents would come and get him a glass of water, or tell him a short story. Unfortunately, never again will the two people he adored most even give him so much as a kiss goodnight, unless it were with pale, lifeless lips. The thought urked him for days after the tradegy, while he struggling ... alone, on the streets of New York. Why? Why did those men kill my parents? Then it hit him, like a ton of bricks. His mother and father were world-reknowned scientists and doctors, but why have them ordered 'dead'? It's been seven years. How does he cope, on his own? It isn't easy. Well, he has a little help from a certain somewhat, a girl to be exact. The specifics aren't yet known, but she looks out for him, feeds him once in a while, and gives him a little bit of money. (NPC, or someone can take up the job. Mwahaha.)
((Small reminder for everyone to send to everyone...I can't go forwarding -everything- or I might miss something. For any that don't know who's involved, or if you want to contact someone specific, fkplstcluv@aol.com is Lchan, also known as Delphi in LHI. pace7@cox.net is Matt, also Matt and Terinn. nikitafirestar@yahoo.com is Brenna, Akime and many others. And littlevixencharmer@yahoo.com is Elena, who plays Celia Ribelle. You all know me and Kchan already.))
Donovan sets down the glass. "Excellent. I have an assignment for you." A simple tap of a button by his hand, a control panel set next to the side of the hot tub, and a holographic screen pops up over the water. It shows a series of newspaper headings from the Daily Bugle in New York, among others. "People with strange abilities are becoming more and more common. Mutants, scientists, accidents. And most of them are utterly useless for anything but brute power, bludgeoning each other time and again over squabbles for some sort of hollow supremacy. Some, however..." Another tap, and the image becomes a file. There's a picture of a young man, in his mid-teens. He looks rumpled, disheveled, and is laughing with another young man of the same age. "...may have some true use to me." The name in the text reads Jake Parkins, along with some information on his whereabouts and general description. "Use whatever resources you need. Bring him in, and hold him at our New York branch office. I will meet you there in a week's time. Try to avoid the attention of others." The image vanishes.
The boy in question is on his way to a friend. The orphaned genius, Ryan Kelleham. Sharing common interests in technology, he doesn't have nearly the knowledge Ryan does. It doen't stop him though, because he has a secret that only Ryan has been shown. When a program doesn't work, all he has to do is touch the screen. His lips move silently, and with any luck...it will start to work. Because every machine is a friend to him as well. Specifically, he has a new game to share. A violent little number of just the sort an average pair of fourteen-year-olds would love. "This is so sweet! Carnage Strikes Back, the Crimson Terror! Ryan's gonna -die- when he sees this!" One advantage to living in a world of superheroes...there's no lack of fodder for the entertainment industry.
((I've told Dylan this before, but I'll tell you all just in case there's some
need to contact me. I'm in the middle of moving, and next week I'm staying with
my father who has a computer, but is anal about the time I spend on it. After
that, I have a guest coming in for 10 days.. I'm going to do my best to keep
Zephyr in the game during all this, but please forgive me if I'm a little slow.
Thankya! ^^))
---------------
She stands idly by, listening to Donovan explain what she's to do. Her eyes
are planted firmly on the image of the Parkins child; the other boy pictured is
completely disregarded. Parkins looks to be in his early teens to her- about the
same year she joined the crime ring that Donovan had lifted her from. A little
'hmph' when the image fades from the scree, and she nods.
"A week. Yes sir." A smile, though his back is to her, and she sets off to
depart... a devil temporarily cast out of Heaven.
-~=*=~-
She'd taken a personal jet of her employer's to get back to the mainland of
the US. Even if she wasnt allowed to use them, she wouldnt have a problem...she
could woo any person, male or female, with those looks of hers and that devilish
smile.
Once in New York, she rented out a suite in the Crowne Plaza on Broadway. It
wasnt hard to talk the desk manager into it- he'd been almost stupidly
speechless when she walked up to the counter and seductively leaned over it,
insisting that even without reservations at "this fine establishment," there was
surely room for little 'ole her? Of course there was. A htoel right on the edge
of Time Square; she had convenient access to the entire city. Surely this child
couldnt hide from her. It was only a matter of a few phone calls to some friends
from the Golden Days, and she had his general vicinity mapped and pinned.
For now, she waits by day. Dusk is her first choice of hunting times. The
nightlife in this city provides the perfect mask, even if there -was- any
attention called to her business; but she won't allow it to happen. So she rests
up for the night(s)ahead of her...
The other boy, known only to the streetwise as Machine Maker Ryan, is at the local arcade, " Sound Bite". Unknown to him, his best friend, Jake Parkins, is on his way to see him. Of course he'd like it. Frankly, Jake is the only other friend he has, 'sides the girl that takes care of him if he took a trip down the wrong alleyway, or if he is in a tight budget. Thought only fourteen, Machine Maker Ryan works at a nearby, local pizza-place and cafe, " Antonio's Pizzeria". The orphaned boy spends his days loafing around the streets of New York, while usually working on another "gadget" of his. But this moment leaves him at " Sound Bite", currently playing Trick mode, DDR, to the song " Butterfly". Sweat trickles down his cheeks, as he has been playing for ... well, several hours, now.
For the moment the troubled teen seems perfectly content to stay where she is, leaning against a wall not far from the main headquarters in New York. She simply watches those who pass her, occasionally letting her hand brush a person walking by, stealing bits of energy. When she's had enough of that, she pulls on some gloves that she 'borrowed' from someone, looking over her hands in the rather expensive brown leather gloves. Smiling at her newest possesion, she looks up and down the streets, pondering on where to get her next meal. She heard there was a great pizzaria down the street, with some kid who could play games better then anyone. Though she cares little for games of that sort, she thinks it might be entertaining, and hell, she's hungry again anyway. And so, off she goes, adjusting her small top before walking along the street. She keeps mainly to the shadows, then strolls right into the pizzaria when she sees it. But for the moment thats as far as she goes, just taking a seat in a back corner, watching everyone, as is her habit
She looks over to the woman who spoke, raising an eyebrow lightly."Yeah, its really something..." Her response is barely muttered. She looks the woman over, noting her jacket, then looks back to the building, going back to eating. Not the most social thing in the world, but hey, she's got no real reason to be. She simply waits for the woman to leave, rolling her eyes lightly at the womans last statement before she herself starts off for the pizzaria
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