MARVEL HEROES: RESURGENCE

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* MUSIC*



No matter the time or the year, there will always be a need for heroes. Some will be celebrated for their deeds, most will go unnoticed, others might even suffer persecution, but in the end, they are all equal in their heroism.

It’s been more than a year since the Latverian Cataclysm, which came at the very heels of the routed Skrull Invaders. A major taskforce of heroes was dispatched to face-off against the Cosmic Cube wielding Dr. Doom. It took the combined might of many Avengers to brave the day, the likes of Thor, Iron Man, Captain America,Dr. Strange, Vision, the Scarlet Witch and the Hulk. Even the X-Men, Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine,Magneto, Emma Frost, Phoenix and a grand assembly of heroes, rallied to meet the challenge.

The battle was titanic, one of epic proportions. One that would be felt all over the earth, with equally long lasting consequences. Doom’s army had annexed most of his neighboring countries in succession. The Monarch’s ambition was clearly on a global scale, and once in possession of the Cosmic Cube, there would be none to give him pause. But a pause and more, was achieved. This, at no small price, however. After a blinding explosion which could be seen across the entire hemisphere, followed by shockwaves felt for countless kilometers, it was reported that many heroes were unaccounted for during the aftermath. Latveria and its annexed neighbours suffered a great deal of civilian casualties in addition to astonishing collateral damage. 'Till this day, an investigation is still ongoing.

It then became quite clear to many nations, that more needed to be done to control superhuman citizens across the globe.

Enter the Superhuman Registration Act.

America, England, Japan, Australia, Wakanda. These are a few of a growing number of countries where the SRA have become the law.

If you are a superhuman, or mutant, you are required to register. If you are unsure of your superhuman status, we encourage you to locate one of our many discrete screening centers all around the country. The good news is, once registered, you’ll be eligible to receive training from S.H.I.E.L.D. at the Island of Triskelion. Depending on results, you might even be awarded ingression into the Avengers Initiative. Do not let this great opportunity pass you by, so don’t delay. A new day has dawned for all, human and superhuman alike.

Tell them that Acting S.H.I.E.L.D Director, Maria Hill, sent you.

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Thanks for your interest in Marvel Heroes: Resurgence.

Here are the basic factions all players can choose from: Registered, Unregistered and Anti-registration.

Those who choose ‘Registered’ will begin their adventure as New Recruits at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Triskelion facility.





Anti-Registration players might start as part of an underground group, such as White Star (heroes), Morlocks (neutral heroes), or The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants (villains). Other affiliations might be possible ( at GM’s discretion ).

Basic character sheet:

Name:
Codename:
Gender:
Age:
Hair:
Eyes:
Height:
Weight:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Personality:
Appearance:
Bio:

Also: Because there will be character leveling.

Basic attributes/ basic stats:

(please distribute 13 points accordingly)

Str: (How strong are you)
Dex: (How agile are you)
End: (How much stamina you have)
Int: ( How smart are you, reasoning capacity)
Edu: (Your academic knowledge)
Char: (How well others get along with you.)
Will/Spirit: (how much conviction you posses)
Wisdom: (Your ability to discern things)

Normal stats will have a maximum value of 6.

Here's an example of normal stats and what they represent.

Str: Strength 1 is normal, while 6 represents a power lifter.
Dex: Dexterity 1 represent an average human, while 6 an olympic gymnast.
End: One is average while 6 would be an olympic marathon runner.
Int: One is average, while 6 is genius.
Edu: One would be equivalent to high school, 6 is equal to PhD.
Char: One is average, while an extremely popular celebrity would be 6.
Will: An average person would be 1, while a conqueror would be 6.
Wisdom: Average person would be 1, while the Dalai Lama would be 6.

Base stats can be enhanced by support skills in order to accomplish challenging tasks. Both can increase as the game progresses via experience points awarded through gameplay. There will be some ‘Dice Rolls’ for certain tasks. No worries, it’s simpler than it looks.

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House Rules

1) Respect the GM.
2) Follow the TOS.
3) No Godmoding.
4) No Spamming, Trolling, Baiting. Don’t do it.
5) Clean Language, please.
6) Realism is rewarding.
7) Try not to die.
8) Ask questions ( via PM or OOC thread)
9) Have fun!!
10) Respect each other.

ALL CHARACTER SHEETS MUST FIRST BE SUBMITTED TO THE GM FOR APPROVAL

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Peace is not the absence of conflict, but our ability to cope with it.

 

GM Approved Turncated CS

Name: Alastor Zingari
Codename: The Executioner (those close to him call him Zin)
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Hair: Dark Brown/Black
Eyes: Violet with feline like eyes (uses contacts to appear blue)
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 300 (see metahuman details)
Likes: Guns, the sound of a roaring engine, Chinese food (lots of it), classical rock and hair metal.
Dislikes: SRA, the word ‘curmudgeon’, sudden bright lights, large social gatherings.
Personality: Alastor is what he likes to call “The monster that hunts other monsters” having long now thrown away any attempts at a normal life in an effort to hunt down and deal with threats to the greater world. His personality reflects that. To those outside his close social circle he can seem cold, distant, sometimes even aggressive. To those in it he is all that, but often opens up, cracks jokes, many inappropriate, and often shares with them his love of cooking, cars, and jokes about Dustine, one of his direct superiors, posterior.
Appearance:


Bio: When we last left Alastor in the realm of Xavier’s he was working with SHIELD to deal with the Skrull invasion. Since the end of that crisis, Alastor slipped out of SHIELD’s focus, taking several bits of equipment with him in the process, as they were already in chaos and dealing with another rising one. An armory explosion is surprisingly easy to establish to fake ones death. Enter D.E.M. Alastor’s mother company, a paramilitary organization that operates in secret out of an island in near the Solomon’s named “Bella La Cava”.
Alastor and DEM are not necessarily against SHIELD, but they are against the SRA, as several of their members, including their founders, are superhumans in themselves. Making use of ample legal grey areas in regards to PMCs DEM has managed to sustain a continuing fight against groups like A.I.M. and HYDRA while maintaining a lucrative business as ‘troubleshooters’ for the wide globe, particularly in South East Asia and the Middle East with some operations in Eastern Europe.
Alastor is DEM’s premier A.R.E.S unit, Assault, Recon, and Extraction Specialist. His skills with firearms, unarmed combat, and vehicle piloting, in addition to his S.E.C.S. armor allow him to operate as a one man fireteam. Even without his armor, his access to top of the line military equipment and his own skills bolstered by his metahuman status make him a force to be reckoned with in the dark underworld of private military conflicts.
Metahuman Details: Enhanced Strength, Enhanced Sight, Body Density, Healing Factor & Gunkata/Trajectory Prediction
Standard Equipment (this gear is on him at all times)

• OpSat
• Augmented Reality Contacts
• Memento Mori – customized .44 magnum revolver with an underbarrel 3 shot shotgun based on the Metalstorm MAUL system. The inscription translates to “Everybody lives; not everybody deserves to”
• Lily and Lana – Nighthawk Custom T3s, 1911 format pistols in 9mm
• The Sig – Sig-Sauer P220 with a barrel weight/compensator

Stance: Anti-Registration

 

GM Approved

Codename: Blueline

Name: It’s just Blueline now but, friends call him Blue

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Hair: dark blonde

Eyes: brown

Height: 6’0”

Weight: 176 lbs.

Likes: Food, lots of it, saving people, and being around good people (even if there’re precious few of them)

Dislikes: Overbearing authority, liars, Con men (really good liars), and Russians (He’s had a bad experience)

Personality: Bit of a joker, filled to the brim with gallows humor. Despite everything he’s seen his eyes are kind. He will not kill, no matter how dark or evil the person may be, he will not kill them or leave them to die. He will give his all to save a person, to help a friend, or to stop a crime.

Appearance: Average facial features, medium build, problably the most average kid you’ll meet until you look at his clothes. He wears a blue hoodie, stained red with his own blood, and perforated with bullet holes and knife slashes. A blue bandana covers his face from the nose down, he rarely removes it, even in friendly company. On his right wrist is a pair of bloody handcuffs, rusted shut.

Metahuman ability: Healing Factor

Stance: Anti-registration

Bio: It’s your typical hero story. Blue lost his mother at a young age. She was killed right in front of him in a mugging gone lethal. He lost his father six months later, cancer. Went to live with his aunt and uncle for a few years, things were stable then, until he fell in love with a girl from school. It took him a long time to finally admit his feelings to her, and he was surprised to learn she felt the same.

For a bit there it felt like nothing could touch him, that he’d finally put his mother’s death behind him. When she started wincing when he’d touch her, he began to worry. One day she didn’t come to school the next day he stopped by her house. When she opened the door, he understood what happened, her right eye was swollen shut, raised red and purple skin surrounded it. She tried to say it was an accident but, he knew, knew it was her father, a bear of a man with a temper to match. That night he hatched a plan to get her out, get her somewhere safe. As he approached the house he heard screams, screams of pain, and shouts of anger. He didn’t wait, he broke in grabbing the first thing he could, an umbrella. Blue swung it and it bent helplessly on the monster’s arm. The beasts rage grew seeing the boy, and he pummeled the young man into the floor. His face was swelling and an eye was forced closed but, he could see her, his first love, slumped against a wall not breathing. A heavy boot landing on his head caused him to blackout. When he came to, the house was dark and empty, and her body was gone.

It was a few years after when he was old enough to drive when he was driving with a friend down a back road. She was more than a friend but, his heart hadn’t let go of his first love. A truck missed a stop sign and plowed into the passenger side of his car. As the car was burning he pulled his friend out. Blue didn’t have a mark on him, despite the violence of the crash he was seemingly unharmed. The police, paramedics and firefighters arrived and declared his friend dead at the scene. They were also surprised at Blue’s lack of injuries.

Blue was driven to his aunt and uncle’s house, as they pulled into the driveway, the house exploded. Shrapnel killed the two cops escorting him. Blue slipped out the shattered rear window and started looking for his guardians in the rubble of his home. His hands burned as he shoved aside flaming wreckage. He found their bodies charred, almost beyond recognition. He hadn’t moved by the time the fire department showed up.

Blue was swiftly sent into the foster care system, having no living family remaining. It didn’t go well, there were too many kids in the house and the ‘parents’ didn’t care, rarely feeding them, barely even looking after them. Blue took it upon himself to protect them, taking several beatings for his trouble but, he didn’t care as long as his brothers and sisters were safe. One day one of his ‘brothers’ got in the way and the attacker’s rage became focused on the other boy. Blue tried to stop it sooner but, by the time he did, his ‘brother’ wasn’t breathing. Overcome with fury he pummeled the monster that killed his ‘brother’. Not stopping until the body was still. His hands ached his knuckles bled, and bile rose in his throat. He’d just killed a man.

After that he ran away, running into the city, someplace big with many hiding spots. Not two minutes in and a mugging occurred down a side street Blue could have avoided. But, he couldn’t stand by and let it happen. Without fear he rushed in and beat back the attackers with wild flailing strikes. The man he saved was named Zeke, and they became friends and roommates after that. Zeke was the one that convinced Blue to be a hero, and the one who chose the name, the only name the hero uses now. Again things began to stabilize but, they didn’t stay that way. Two ‘cops’ showed up to ‘arrest’ Zeke and Blue. Blue broke one of the cuffs in the struggle forcing the ‘cops’ to handcuff the two together. A little later a gun battle broke out, seemed Blue had made some enemies during his short time as a hero. The two ‘cops’ were slain, along with Zeke, once again Blue survived.

He pulled his friend's body into a dark place, and did what he had to, to release them from their shackle. He still wears it, one side bloodied, a reminder of his friend. It’s been a while since that, and Blue has kept going. Because no matter what he is a hero, they take pain, they take punishment, they take whatever the world can throw at them and keep going, keep saving people, because no one else will.

 

GM Approved

Name: Rupert fforbes-Hamilton.

Codename: Golem-master (Golem for short).

Gender: Male.

Age: 28.

Hair: Brown.

Eyes: Blue.

Height: 6ft.

Weight: 168lbs.

Likes: Music, Justice, Listening to Audiobooks, watching good films.

Dislikes: Crime, Uncaring Big Business, Registration, Being a Cripple.

Personality: Once optimistic and outgoing, now very cynical and a virtual recluse.

Appearance: A human form in a bed, with one reasonably good arm, one very weak arm and two useless legs.

Stance: Anti-registration.

Metahuman ability: Earth Golem creation.

Bio: Rupert was born into a very affluent British family that had produced several top industrialists, financiers and lawyers.

He attended a posh Preparatory School and then Eton, scoring straight 'A's in his examinations and was on course to attend his choice of University (Oxford and Cambridge had both made tempting offers). His misfortune was to take a gap-year trip to the USA and visit a theme-park run by a major movie-making corporation.

One of the rides went wrong - nobody really knows how or why, but it was blamed on sabotage by an ultra-extremist group of fans, said to have been incensed by what the corporation had done to their favourite franchise and characters - and Rupert was hurled eighty feet to the ground.

The fall should have killed him, perhaps it would have been more merciful if it had, but he survived; 'one and a quarter arms away from being a basket case', as the saying goes.

The corporation initially tried to blame God, but then the family money and connections started talking. Clever, high-priced, lawyers made pimples seem like mountains to the American Courts and the compensation awards were enormous. The payouts, and the bad publicity, almost bankrupted the corporation - it was only (under pressure) inclusion of fan-favourite characters in new films in that franchise that saved it.

Rupert, after long spells in hospital, was finally released into fully-supported accommodation where the boredom and dreary routine of his half-existence nearly completed what the fall had started.

Except....

Concentrating on an earth-filled plant-pot one day, he imagined a human-like figure forming and growing out of it.... and one began to do so! It was not long before the figure collapsed back into a pile of dirt again but the activity was something he could actually do.

Years of experiment and practice followed.

Nowadays, he can generate man-sized 'Golems', at will, from any sufficiently large patch of earth he can see, or from where a previously generated Golem has collapsed. Any one Golem, or a sequential series of them, can be kept in a formed state for an extended period of time, after which he has to sleep. He cannot generate or control more than one Golem at a time.

Each Golem is virtually immune to bullets, blades or fists. Explosives can disperse them temporarily, whereupon they can be reformed. Water, either in the form of a high pressure jet or a flood, is their only vulnerability. In compensation, the Golems are tremendously strong, able to throw a man-sized mass over twenty yards with bone-crushing force. However, they are slower and less manoeuvrable than a human being of comparable size and tend to leave traces of soil or leaves in their wake. He doesn't usually bother to generate them with human-like features, a rough-hewn suggestion of a face is generally good enough - except for the eyes, which resemble his own to an uncanny degree. Except at close-quarters, the general form looks like a vagrant, dressed in ragged clothing.

Rupert is, like most 'Brits', absolutely against any form of 'registration', considering it too easily turned against the 'registered' population, to their detriment. The lessons of 'registrations' by the Nazis in the 1930s and 40s have taken firm root there.

He doesn't consider himself to be any kind of 'hero', and probably never will.

 

Basic character sheet: GM-Approved, Sanity. . .pending ​

Name: SGC’s 28.57^3​

Codename: Carrot​

Gender: Male originally, currently unknown.​

Age: 22​

Hair: Clear​

Eyes: Right cluster red, left cluster blue​

Height: 1.5m (4’9” ft)​

Weight: 111kgs (244lbs)​

Likes: Sunlight, freedom, computers​

Dislikes: Confinement, Isolation, scientists​

Personality: Shy​

Appearance: Insectoid.​

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cYQNfIhpk6M/Tajp2e9dxJI/AAAAAAAABik/3BThEAXhTZg/s1600/Spraug.jpg​

http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110721162051/es.starwars/images/b/b9/Mnarshaddaa.jpg​

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Stance: Anti-registration​

Meta-Human Abilities: Telekinesis, Endurance, Climbing, and Flux​

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Bio: Born a Deviant he was taken, sold, given to, or created by a group of Skrull scientists and raised from infancy. Raised in a lab in a neighboring nation to Latveria, Skrull Genetic Compromise Subject 28.57^3 (S.G.C. s: 28.57^3), or SGC for short grew up knowing the waving of probes, the study of genetic makeup, and the questions of power testing, potentials, and gene drift from his earliest memory on. And he knew his mother. She would come to him, appear to him every night as he laid down to sleep, talking to him until he could keep his eyes open no longer after the long days of testing and physical training. Telling him of things called sky, space, rock, city, animal and other wonderful tales beyond imagining.​

​

With little else to do he went through testing, grew, and eventually was given a serum to make him. . .better they had said. He had asked if he would be like his mother, something he had kept secret his eighteen years of life to this point as she had told him to, as he felt his chitin based exterior, mandibles, and clear mop of hair on his head was strange and nowhere near the level of beauty he had associated with his own mother or the Skrull scientists. Only they lied. He awoke a year later floating in a bubbling tube to find his body had gone from something vaguely humanoid into this new four legged form. His hair was gone leaving fine clear cilia coating his carapace and joints, his arms were elongated and his eyes changed to have color and increased range of vision.​

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He was scared and he was angry. When he was decanted and fully was able to see the level of his changes, so much so was he horrified at his form going the wrong direction that in his rage he shattered the mirror and threw the closest scientist away from him. Only he never touched them. He was afraid when he saw the injured scientist, what would happen to him? His mother had warned him not to lash out at them, only they did not seem upset, they seemed thrilled! It was not long after that they spoke of other changes, less evident. It meant little to him, air was no longer a necessity, his body could survive on chemical reactions, anaerobic cellular action on a whole body level reaching days instead of the natural muscular restrictions lasting minutes. His body cilia absorb and clean his body, eating the dirt as his lungs filter the air to absorb the particles out of it. His mental acuity was rated as higher, and his body more ‘sturdy’ with the redundancies of external and internal skeletal construction.​

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It was not long after this that the Skrull’s left, and the suites of human’s arrived for a brief time. They too left him in his ‘dorm’ as they sorted the facility, they were not as beautiful nor as ugly as he had heard his mother say in passing. In all honesty he could not fathom what was beautiful, only that it was not him. They in turn soon left to be replaced by a man in a suite who called himself Doom. Odd name, his stay was brief and merely saw a change of suites to include more lab coats and metal things. Then the destruction came, the facility was rent through and in the chaos and destruction SGC saw a chance, through the rubble and the bodies he stole what he could carry, looting the facility and the dead and set out into the terrifying and first truly abject thing of beauty to be found. Outside.​

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It was panic and it was wonder, but it was his. From here he has never seen nor heard his Mother, known her comfort, but he is free, and he will not go back. Never.​

 

GM Approved

Name: Nina Kowalski
Codename: N/A
Gender: Female
Age: 32
Hair: Long and blonde
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5' 9"
Weight: 130 lbs.
Likes: Her career, her cat, the gym, mint chocolate chip ice cream
Dislikes: Anti-registration idealists, laziness, pop music, grocery shopping
Personality: Strong, firm, loyal, and occasionally convivial
Appearance: Nina has a fair complexion and a strong build honed by many hours in the gym. She almost always has her hair pulled back into a ponytail but will occasionally let it down for formal events or if an undercover assignment requires it.
Stance: Registered
Metahuman Abilities: Photographic memory
Bio: Nina had a relatively uneventful childhood up until her teachers at school started to take notice of her flawless academic work. She never needed concepts explained to her more than once, and always took to learning new things extremely quickly. She advanced through her academic career very quickly and graduated high school at the age of fifteen.

Nina's parents were typical middle class people, her father a mailman and her mother a teacher. She was an only child and they raised her to be a kind, respectable young lady. And though she had her rebellious phases, Nina was always one to stick up for any bullied classmates despite her young age in comparison to the bullies themselves, which caused her to become tough as well as smart. Her parents enrolled her in various martial arts and self defense classes, where she excelled.


While enrolled at the University of Texas, Nina was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D., who'd taken notice of her academic prowess and impeccable gift of memory. Always one to protect what she felt was right and good in the world, she joined their ranks and is now a valuable asset in their vast field of agents.

 

GM Approved!

Name: Ira Sinclair
Codename: Yin
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Gray
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 185 lbs
Likes: Hiking, biking, running, fresh air, sunshine, Harriet
Dislikes: Enclosed spaces, darkness
Personality: Ira has an addictive personality. He thrives on exploring and thrill-seeking. He’s strong-willed and aggressive. Ira is very protective of Harriet, to the point that he is willing to go into the abandoned buildings and caves she loves to explore.
Appearance:
Bio: Ira and Harriet were born in Colorado to a single mother. Their mother was a mutant that shared both of their abilities and was able to train them to hone their abilities as they grew up. She was killed during the fighting against Dr. Doom a year ago, and since then Ira and Harriet have been exploring the country, seeking a purpose.
Stance: Unregistered

Superhuman Ability: Photonic Manipulation. Capable of absorbing and expelling light. Can create absolute blinding light. Can control his pupils to see even in blinding light.

Name: Harriet Sinclair
Codename: Yang
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue-gray
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 130
Likes: Urban exploring, nighttime, moonlight, abandoned buildings, Ira
Dislikes: Heights, fire
Personality: Harriet is stoic, analytical, and sarcastic. She’s reserved and doesn’t open up to people very quickly. She’s very introspective. Harriet doesn’t share Ira’s interests, but they stay together no matter what.
Appearance:
Bio: Harriet and Ira were born in Colorado to a single mother. She was a beautiful woman who inspired her children to chase their passions no matter where they took them, but to always stay together. She died in the Latverian Cataclysm. Harriet and Ira left their home to follow their mother’s wishes and explore the world.
Stance: Unregistered

Superhuman Ability: Photonic Manipulation. Capable of absorbing and dispelling light. Can create absolute pure darkness. Can control her pupils to see even in absolute darkness.

 

Name: Naomi Cassin
Codename:Gami (Short for origami)
Gender: female
Age: 18
Hair: light brown, done in locs.
Eyes: Light blue, almost grey, piercing gaze
Height: 5'5"
Weight:130
Likes: But of a sweet tooth, camping, reading, cats, freedom
Dislikes: Registration act, wars, bullies, being locked up
Personality: Reserved. Used to be quite outgoing, but has seen the ugly side of people during war. But if
she considers you a friend, she is loyal.
Appearance:

Light tanned skin, long brown hair in locs, tight form fitting undersuit to protect from elements, right
now wearing fur cloak, boots, large hat. (It's a tad cold outside...)
Stance: Anti-registration
Meta-Human Abilities:
Energy absorption, Healing, Lung adaptation, Luminescence & Flipping

Bio: Naomi had a loving family, who were very outdoors type. She learned to live off the land, and to enjoy
the challenges. She hiked and climbed, and with her parents learned to appreciate the dwindling open spaces.
Then came the invaders. And battles. War. Her parent decided heading for the mountains was the best,
staying away from all until things calmed down. While her parents were normal, they knew that Naomi had the
gift of healing, and they wanted to make sure that she would not be used/abused by desperate humans. And things
worked well for the most part, they did their best to steer clear of most of humanity, only running into a few
like minded humans from time to time.

Then came the blast. They had come down into a small local village, to pick up a few supplies. It was a
lovely place, with not even a hint of the military or larger groups they had been avoiding for so long. Sure a
few buildings had been damaged, but still, the people were doing their best to simply deal with day to day
living.

After that, Naomi only remembers the light. The very intense light that she saw. She lost track of time,
which had seemed to stop for her. It was the sound of water nearby, that finally called to her. Once awake, she
found the town had been erased. Not even buildings stood. It looked like a giant boot had simply come by, and
stomped everything to the ground. No bodies. Nothing, but darkness. Naomi walked out, and went back to where
her family had camped earlier. After a week, she finally accepted that they were not coming back. Taking what
supplies she had left, she started walking. And she's been walking every since, looking for someplace that she
felt safe in, if such a place exists, while avoiding the rabid pro-registration fanatics.

 

GM APPROVED
Basic character sheet:

Name: Zephyr Vaillancourt
Codename: Psion
Gender: male
Age:22
Hair: black
Eyes: silver blue
Height:5’11
Weight:155 lbs
Likes: Adventure, creativity, individuality, free spirit, intelligence, bravery, conviction, positivity, empathy.
Dislikes: Bullying, deceit, abuse of power, corruption, selfishness, negativity, indifference.

Personality: Private, critical, adventurous, outgoing, a bit of a risk taker, can be sarcastic at times. Determined, observant, studious when necessary. Team player when comfortable.

Appearance: Likes to wear black, somewhat stylish but not showy or ostentatious.


Stance: Unregistered, undecided.

Mutant Ability: Mind over Matter. Molecular mastery of his person and his surroundings (animate and inanimate). Alter shape, color , density, transformation (carbon to diamond), states ( solid, fluid, gaseous).
As he grows Zephyr’s abilities improve and become more refined. His limitation is in his range. He can perceive matter around him and manipulate it. After a certain distance he is unable to affect even though he can sense with diminished detail.

His control over his body is absolute, he can make himself super dense (armored) or ethereal (and more). He can repair his wounds through regeneration, at a slower rate when unconscious. He can isolate and remove poisons and foreign objects that manage to enter his body. He is looking to achieve the pinnacle of his ability; zero decay and transmorgrification (matter to energy and back).
He wears a special suit of durable carbon fiber that was synthesized in his father’s lab. Psion manipulates his suit for a variety of effects both defensive and offensive.

Bio: Zephyr is the son of Alma de Vaillancourt and a Kree exploratory researcher, Xereth-Fiyrr, who was killed by a Skrull assassin. Alma later married Reinauld Vaillencourt who was also a visionary as herself and had loved her since their younger days when they met during a scholastic Science Program.

Alma came to realize that Xereth might have selected her for her ‘genetic potential’, evidence of this became clear not too long after his death.
She and Reinauld raised Zephyr in comfortable seclusion to better keep control over his abilities, which manifested very early.

They almost enrolled him in Xavier’s School for gifted children but were concerned with the mutant stigma. Instead, they availed themselves of materials concerning subject, either publicly available or through ‘data couriers’. Ranging from thesis by Reed Richards, papers from Dr. McTaggert and Dr. Charles Xavier himself, including Dr.McCoy. However the most help came from the information stored in Xereth’s hidden workshop. Alma had become familiar with some of the items there during her time with Zephyr’s father. The Kree technology permitted access to some of the knowledge, which was vast and beyond anything on Earth, a fraction of the ‘basic’ information proved to be a wellspring of knowledge and life changing information. This was also kept secret.
Zephir grew with a strong moral code, but his abilities separated him from most of humanity, the only peers he had were the heroes out there. So his dream was to become one and he took the name of Psion.
He vowed to help in the defense of the weak and be brave for the timid.

Psion has come to see that a ruling body can abuse power, the most recent example being the Monarch Dr.Doom. It is also clear to him that the heroes who responded to the call did so on their own accord, because they felt it was the right thing to do. He feels that registration should be voluntary, not compulsory. Ones ability to do good should not culminate in the loss of privacy or a measure of autonomy. The SRA doesn’t sit right with him, because it is compulsory and a Good Samaritan works best anonymously. Lawmakers and Heroes have to come to a mutual agreement, as things stand at the moment, it is best to watch and see what develops.

 

Character Sheet (GREY APPROVED!)

Name: Inuksuk "Isaac" Angakkuq
Codename: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Hair: Long and Black, tied back in a braid usually
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 162 lbs.
Likes: Inuit Culture (It's Family), City life, Positive people, Russian Women (Just a weakness…)
Dislikes: Inuit Culture (It's Complicated), Negativity, Books, Movies
Personality: Quiet and reserved for the most part, yet loves to socialize with people as long as they are pleasant. Thoughtful and observant.
Stance: Unregistered
Metahuman Ability: Empathy & Animal Guardian Spirit
Appearance: http://www.aceshowbiz.com/images/still/the-legend-of-sarila05.jpg
Bio: Inuksuk, whom prefers going by the name of Isaac, is an interesting young man that enjoys the socialization of people. Though he heavily dislikes negativity. Root cause of that is his quiet ability to feel another's emotions, sometimes as if they were his own, though he trains hard to separate another's from his. He is an Empath, a rare passive ability. Its the main reason he loves the city, watching, and talking with people. All the emotions, the feelings! A wonderful rush, though the recent swing in dark emotions everywhere has him soured and uncertain. Of course, with all the superhero clashes taking place in recent history, its hard not to understand fully why.

Furthermore, he has an ancient Animal Spirit that he has gained from his great-grandmother before she passed on. It is his guardian, mentor, confidant, protector…and friend. The very fact he could perceive her from a young age greatly pleased his great-grandmother as: "Modernization has dulled your other family member's sense. You are different. You are tied to the old ways." Ironically, he took to city life. But it was true that he honored the old ways in between modern living. His ethics and morals certainly took to the old ways. And so was the advice he garnered from his spirit. The Spirit of the Firefly.

Now many might scoff at that, it wasn't the Wolf. The Bear. The Orca. Even the Seal. But that was because they didn't understand Firefly's true significance. He gains abilities from her often enough, one of the many ways she aids her ward and friend. There are times he can even connect to spirits of the dead through her, once gaining the respect of an old warrior. Through Firefly as an ethereal 'bridge', Isaac temporarily harnessed the warrior's abilities to defend himself from a mugging attempt some years back.

With the advent of the Registration Act, he finds himself confused. As a law abiding citizen, he has nothing against the registry though is slightly uncertain of it. The Inuit are used to similar things gone wrong before… Still, his particular abilities just didn't quite seem like they were referenced by it. With that conflict in mind, he remains Unregistered and unsure if he should be 'screened' or not. Something he has talked to Firefly at length often as of late. In the end, Isaac is a good person who does wish to help others, but feels like he isn't in any situation to do so. That may change swiftly if the hints that Firefly has been giving have any merit...

And they usually do.

 

Here to join the party! Grey approved!

Name: Kera Miles
Codename: NA
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Hair: Colored purple, though naturally brown
Eyes: Green
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 140
Likes: Caramel candies, strawberries, and collecting state quarters
Dislikes: Rude, uppity people, Diet Coke, and any kind of fish
Personality: Said to be friendly and gets along well with others, although has a rebellious streak
Stance: Unregistered
Metahuman Ability: Pheromone control and shape shifting
Appearance:
Bio: Born in Cedar Rapids, Kera and her parents lived contently until they moved to Sioux City at the age of six. Her father had a career in optometry while her mother was a RN at the local hospital. It was a mostly normal childhood, although she occasionally found herself in minor trouble with her parents for staying out past curfew or the occasional prank.

As she reached her teenage years, she acted out a bit more, but thanks to her parents long work hours, they usually went unnoticed for the most part. It was around the age of sixteen when she began to notice that she had a certain sway over guys that seemed a bit more than just her good looks. It didn't take too long to realize that she could affect their physical attraction toward her and wasn't above using it sometimes to her benefit.

Becoming seventeen, Kera's power further developed and one day found herself looking a lot like an actress she wished she could look like. In fact. She looked identical. She found shape shifting ability much harder to control than her pheromone ability, and so she tried not using it, fearing she wouldn't be able to go back to normal.

Unsure how her parents would react, Kera keeps quiet about these strange abilities and found that using their hormone control too much can lead to sticky situations with men, so she tends to only use it when needed. Or wanted.

 

Once again APPROVED by the Master of this Particular Verse!

Name: Cameron Giles
Codename: Gemini
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Hair: Black and short
Eyes: Light Green
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 245 lbs.
Likes: Honesty, Kindness, Justice, Audiobooks, Competence
Dislikes: Deceit, Chaos, Immaturity, the Unknown, [Hidden Dislike]
Personality: Honest, straightforward, and likable when off duty. Likes to smile, joke, and 'hang out' in small groups of close friends. On duty he is straightforward, efficient, and a mask of professionalism. At times he is deceptive and constantly mirroring his personality to that which fits the situation….and inwardly hates it.
Stance: Registered
Metahuman Ability: Personal Cloning & Invisibility
Appearance:
Bio: Born and raised in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Cameron J. Giles has always been an upstanding, law abiding citizen. He was smart and always craving a good education so he could find ways of moving America and the world itself, forward.

He reveled as all others did at those with mutant and superhuman powers…and yes, feared a little too. As he grew up, he eventually attended Colorado University for a little while before being snatched up by recruiters from an organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. There he attended a prestigious, if secret, academy and then entered the Infiltration and Espionage Division. Cameron rose through the ranks steadily until now he stands above most. Deputy Director. And he fully intends to use its power for the cause of good.

When the Registration Act began, while S.H.I.E.L.D clearly knew of his abilities that had manifested in his early teens already due to their use on their behalf, he stood up and as a show of loyalty, 'officially' registered as an act of lawful devotion. He still has the picture of him and Tony Stark Jr. smiling and shaking hands for a photo shoot to commemorate him being among the first Registered, on his wall at his SHIELD personal quarters.

His most vivid memory now that his life has taken a Metaphoric turn, was when he was thirteen and was still experimenting with his powers. As he came out of invisibility and ran away from a girls locker room that he had been spying on at the time (he has thankfully banished all such immature actions due to growing up), he stumbled upon a man seemingly waiting for him. A man in a unique wheelchair. "Hello, Cameron," the man said pleasantly with a smile, "My name is Charles Xavier, I was wondering if we could talk for a moment?"

However, that was when his older brother Anthony appeared around the corner and hollered for him to get going; eyeing Professor Xavier apprehensively. Without thinking, Cameron hastened to obey after apologizing to the man. He never saw him again, likely due to something of greater significance having distracted the mutant professor immediately afterward. Cameron had thus been nearly an X-Men member.

S.H.I.E.L.D is glad they have him instead.

 

UNREST!

That seems to be the ‘by word’ since the inception of the controversial and thus far mandatory Superhuman Registration Act, implemented not only in our country, but many others across the world. Today, tensions are rising as demonstrators who are both in support and against the registration, take to city parks to voice their heartfelt opinions.



They are in Central Park and Union Square in New York, In Los Angeles, Washington, parks and streets all across our nation. Tokyo, Berlin, London. The list goes on. It is uncertain if this day of protest was started over social media or by any organization, but as we are made to understand, the NYPD has mobilized Response Units and are fully prepared in the event these organized demonstrations fail to remain under control.

We’ve also been unable to receive any information from the New York City Based S.H.I.E.L.D. H.Q., but we are told by unofficial sources that NuSentinels have been mobilized near public SRA reg centers as a security measure. The move seems to have had very little effect in the form of determent, especially in the face of so many impassioned demonstrators at those locations, that being both midtown, near Madison Square Garden and Downtown, several blocks from The World Trade.

Many experts have weighed in on the varying possibilities and opportunities such gathering could present, all of which the authorities say they are aware of.

In related news, South Korea’s Kpop sensation, Kwon is reported to have registered as a ‘superhuman’, much to the surprise and delight of his adoring fans. Though flanked by his own security, which was bolstered by local police, Kwon made a show of his registration and was cheered on by a massive and ever-growing crowd of fans and curious passersby. Any detractors at the signing event were quickly routed by his vocal and actively loyal fans.

Stay tuned as we continue to bring you updates on these developing stories….

---

CHAPTER ONE: It only takes a spark

---

Blueline

He’d made friends with a few of the local vagrants. He knew their story. How some had lost everything to financial scams, or fires, even sickness. They knew his, or rather whatever he told them, but in the end, there weren’t a lot of questions asked. They understood that they were all one and the same; destitute. Homeless…and they needed to stick together.

Sal, an older balding man with a gray beard; he’d been in the streets the longest out of their small group. He was followed by Vic who resembled a middle aged, albeit aging rock star with long dark hair. This made ‘Blu’ the youngest of the three.

Every morning they left the shelter with enough time to make it to the soup kitchen at the church for breakfast. This morning seemed like any other morning, just a tad chillier. That, and an approaching sound not readily recognized.

Sal was the first to look up as they stood in line with the others.

“Hey…” he said calling attention to Blu and Vic. His voice always sounded as if he’d had too much to drink, well…because though he’d been sober now for more than half a year, he used to habitually drown his sorrows in spirits.

“What day is it? There’s some kinda march?”

Sal and Vic didn’t pay too much attention to the news in general, so they’d ignored the breaking news that played at the electronics shop on their way to the church. They were only interested in ‘the word on the streets.’

It didn’t take them long to see and hear the multitude marching down the streets, shouting and holding-up placards and signs.

NO MORE MUTANTS!

“Well, I’ll be damned….” Sal exclaimed.

“Is to early for this.” Sal observed, sounding somewhat put off.

“Couldn’t they have waited until after breakfast?”

He looked back to Blueline and shook his head.

The others on the line began to notice the approaching crowd as they got closer and made comments among themselves. It wasn’t clear if the incoming throng would disrupt their morning ritual or not, or if any other elements associated with large crowds of this sort were involved.

Elements such as cops.

Tag: @galactic-vagabond422

---

Rupert Forbes-Hamilton

The morning had been pretty much uneventful for a man such as Rupert. For someone who had lost the use of his legs, he was an extremely independent individual, requiring little to no assistance to perform routine procedures, like getting dressed, for example. Breakfast was served in a timely manner as usual, but something seemed a bit..off.

Normally,he would know the location of the other ‘guests’ by their movement or the sound of their voice while in conversation. One needed to now how to avoid foot traffic after all. What he did hear now, was not the familiar voices of the other guest, but that of an anchor woman. Should he venture into the common room, Rupert would see the gargantuan flat screen TV playing the news, and everyone silently glued to the screen watching.

There were coordinated protests in cities like New York, London, Tokyo and Berlin. The News was filled with reactions on the Superhuman Registration Act. About a year ago, you could hear nothing else, save the Latverian Cataclysm and its aftermath.

“Good day, Mr. Hamilton. Is there anything I can help you with?”

A lovely attendant had noticed him and came over to him. She was new and younger than the rest. Brunette. So far, her cheerful demeanor seemed genuine.

Someone gasped at an image that appeared on the TV screen. The young attendant looked over her shoulder, but did not move from where she stood as she waited for the gentleman to respond.

Tag: @Tim Battershell

---

SGC
Latverian Outskirts

There was nothing but devastation as far as the eye could see, kilometer after kilometer of nothing but rubble. There were no traces of villages or forested tree-lines to be seen. The cataclysm had razed anything that was standing to the ground. But that was about a year ago. Ever so slowly, life was returning to the area, especially with the generous many millions in foreign aid being infused to the rebuilding effort, thanks to the new Latverian ruler, Kristoff Vernard, former ward of the last Monarch of Latveria.

Several newly built structures, safe houses, not unlike hostels were erected for the benefit of the surviving people to live in, while the clean-up effort and area re-development continued. Talks of ‘reparation’ had not taken place…yet.

Even so, SGC and other displaced persons knew where to go in order survive, especially if some who were still fearful, preferred to avoid contact with relief workers.
But one man was not inclined to give-in to fear and apprehension. Erasmu, who was blinded during the Skrull Invasion. He obtain supplies and rations from the relief workers and brought then back to his camp site. He preferred the outdoors over the provided shelters, but was not against staying in one during inclement weather.

One evening, he’d literally stumbled over SGC. A chance meeting? Perhaps. But one that so far has proven mutually beneficial.

The slat and pepper haired man felt his way through familiar grounds to finally make it to his camp site. Walking over and around fallen structures kept him in sufficiently good shape. Of course, he was careful, being blind and all. He’d managed to pitch a tarp he could call home.

A home who at times had a special visitor.

“Ey! Amic. Are you around today? I brought fresh water.” He said with his distinct accent. Sight he did not posses, but his hearing was quite keen, enough to distinguish whatever he heard with astounding accuracy.

Tag: @Mitth_Fisto

---

Ira Sinclair & Harriet Sinclair
On the road

“You two take care, y’ hear?”

The woman in the SUV waved at the twins and smiled as she drove off. She was a retired teacher who was driving cross country and had decided to give the two strangers a lift. An act of kindness she would not regret. It never ceased to amaze her how opening up to strangers sometime revealed a deeper connection between people. Conversation had been rich and rewarding. Laughter and memories were shared and exchanged without judgement, leading to a feeling of knowing and acknowledgement of kindred spirits. Laura was her name.

She’d smiled all the while, apologizing for not being able to stay at the Roadside Motel, since she needed to make up for lost time.

There were several cars already in the parking lot and the place look rather decent and clean. No guest were walking about, at least not out front. Perhaps there were some at the pool or still having breakfast.

There was nothing but the road and a few blue mountains in the distance under an open sky. Which was not much to contemplate after a few moments.

It didn’t take the twins long to find the reception area once they entered the establishment.

“Good day, good day! Come on in.” a middle aged woman said from behind a desk as she got up yo great them. She was pleasingly plump and had a rather friendly smile and demeanor.

“How are you two doing today? Staying for a spell?”

She regarded them openly, perhaps trying to connect the dots as it were. Behind her a large TV screen could be seen. An anchor woman was speaking as pictures were being shown. There was some kind of protest going on. Something to do with the Superhuman Registration Act.

Not surprising, seeing how it was the ‘hot-topic’ of the time.

Tag: @NickLitYouAFlame

---

Gami & Isaac
Woodlin Tree House

Poppa and Momma Woodlin were a charming older couple who were the care takers at the Green grove. The trees here had not been flattened like in the other areas. The Woodlin’s Tree house was a special thing to see, with its stair spiraling up the tree trunk. They even had a garden where they grew a variety of greens. It was interesting how Poppa Woodlin’s beard was as long as Momma Woodlin’s long hair. If it weren’t for them, all the other camps in the area would grow hungry. Thankfully, they were very generous with the things they grew as well as their survival know how. They both believed folks needed to be independent of everything else but the land.

They were quite happy with ‘Gami’ when she first arrived at their camp, and now, it was las if she were always a part of the family. She even got along with virtually everyone.

Today, both gatherer’s and gardeners were up and about early with their duties. One of the ‘listeners’, the ones who looked out for trouble, had found a working radio recently. The man, Jake, appeared a bit agitated by something came hurriedly into the camp area.

“Poppa Woodlin! Listen to what the radio’s saying!”

“Hold on a moment son, what seems to be the trouble?”

Jake simply offered the radio as his answer.

Everyone stopped what they were doing for a moment and came over forming a circle around Jake.

They listened for a long moment as a woman’s voice spoke of folks marching and protesting. It sounded like there might be trouble.

“What does that have to do with us?” someone asked.

“Well, there’s a camp not too far down which has some….”

“Now, Jake….” Momma Woodlin spoke cutting him off.

“If anyone comes around these parts looking for trouble, I guess we’ll just have to put ‘em to sleep, now won’t we?”

Momma Woodlin nodded her head affirmatively, as she quickly searched in pockets, drew a fist full of some kind go powder, showed it to those gathered, then her hand disappeared back into her pocket. Poppa Woodlin simply nodded.

“Alright, then. Let’s get back to our business….” he intoned encouragingly.

“You keep your eyes and ears peeled, Jake.”

The scout nodded, though the look of worry still remained upon his brow.

There was a recent new addition to the family as it were. He was really good at fishing and was very friendly too. It looked like he came from somewhere further up north by the looks of him. Someone said he could even trick the fish into jumping into his basket from the nearby stream.

“Isaac, Gami, you two keep your eyes peeled too!” Jake advised, now looking out into the distance. “And don’t go out fishing alone for a couple of days, ok….” Jake added, as he made ready to head out back to his post.

Tag: @Ktala, @Darth_Elu

---

Kera

Sioux City

So, it was decided. Kera and her closest friends were to spend the day at the Mall. Not like there was a lot to do besides.
The question now was, what would she wear? Of course, she knew exactly what was in her closet, as far as apparel. What she needed was new accessories and perhaps a new pair of boots. Hmm.

Not five minutes had passed before Colin and Sam ( short for Samantha )both called leaving messages and interrupting her Pandora playlist in the process. No doubt they either wanted to coordinate and outfit, or make sure they wouldn’t be wearing the same accessory with that touch of je ne sais qoui.

The other question was, who would be driving?

The promise of a fun and perhaps slightly mischievous outing hung in the air, that is, until the news interrupted her streaming music. At first, the anchor woman didn’t seem to be making sense. There were people demonstrating and protesting and generally ruining a potentially good day. Kera hadn’t even left the house and something was already going wrong.

A moment later, both Colin and Sam were calling her and leaving messages. It appeared that they still wanted to go to the Mall.

Demonstrators were already there.

Tag: @ spacelady

---

Zephyr Vaillancourt
Zeckendorf Towers, NYC

He could see it all from his window. Union Square Park. The protestors. Demonstrators. Anti-Mutant. Anti-registration.Anti-establishment. Name it. It all seemed a bit surreal, though he had to admit, thinks did look sharper when he viewed them on his HD screen. The NYPD was already on the scene, but so far, they were staying back and not interfering with the demonstrations. Things were getting pretty loud, since Zephyr could clearly hear the din even from where he was.

He already had a few messages from the lab in his inbox, no doubt informing him of the current situation. What was the world coming to?

A reporter at the scene was interviewing ‘live’ protestors, but somehow their rants seemed ‘scripted’.

One of the previous interns from the lab, Zack, who’d become an acquaintance, even left a text saying he was in the area. It was quite likely that he was down there somewhere, protesting something or the other. Ironically, even the Air Force recruiter from a year ago left a message as well. Yeah, it seemed this was going to be one of those days.

Not to mention, at this rate, the SRA weren’t likely to get many followers on twitter.

More importantly, it also seemed there were demonstrators congregating in front of his building.

Tag: @Ameteth

---

Alastor Zingari
Manhattan Apt. NYC

Of course he’d seen it by now. It was all over the news. Protestors, demonstrators. Cops. It was very likely that a lot more was going on out there. Perhaps some of it was good, but what about the rest?

Truth be told, Alastor was a paid mercenary. All this was quite likely just a momentary distraction, but only he knew for sure.

Presently, there was throng of vociferous protestors marching by his building, stopping traffic and the like. With people shouting and cars honking, it was hard to tell who was protesting what and why. Of course, whether you were for or against the Superhuman Registration Act, meant you had to, as the saying went, pick a side.

Interestingly enough, no major celebrity or renown superhero had yet supported or discredited the bill. Perhaps they had an inkling of what a PR fiasco that could be. But, in the end, none of this was significant to a mercenary.

Quite likely, Alastor had a big day ahead of him. None of this would matter once he received his new assignment and went about his business…that is, depending if he failed to notice a shadowy figure propped near the edge of one of the taller buildings.

Tag: @Kahn_Iceay

---

Nina Kowalski
Personal quarters, Triskelion HQ

The message came early, right before breakfast in fact. There was a mission folder already in her inbox titled: Anti-SRA demonstrations.

It went on to inform Agent Kowalski that the NYPD was charged with handling all civilian cases. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s job was to swiftly deal with any superhuman threats and keep them from escalating. Latveria needed to stay a thing of the past.

A full debrief with acting Director Maria Hill and acting Deputy Director Cameron Giles would take place at 09:00 hrs.

Ideally, it was the Agency’s hope that no ‘super villains’ would show up to crash the protestor’s party, but that was highly unlikely. Projections nearly guaranteed superhuman involvement, which meant they had to be ready for any and all contingencies. Who knew, perhaps they’d get to test some of their new toys.

As it was, Agent Kowalski had enough time to get some breakfast, take in the news and get some things done before heading to her debriefing.

Today was likely to be a long day.


Tag: @Reynar_Tedros

---

GM Note: Several updates lack a location. You can include a location of your choice in your post, or PM me to discuss one.

Ready, set……aaaaand Resurgence! ( Forgive me while I get this here rust off of me )

 

IC: Rupert fforbes-Hamilton.
Sunnyvale House, Maryland.


Day 1500.

To be honest, Dear Reader, (come to think of it, I'll have to rename you 'DR' - so much easier and quicker to type with one hand - hope you don't mind?). I don't know quite what to call these jottings. Journal? Diary? Testament? Confession? I'm still not sure if I should have even started putting my thoughts into writing, given my circumstances and what I might have to do at some future time.

On the other hand, I need to have some sort of outlet and I have no intention of dying (if it comes to that) unheard.

Superhuman.

What does that mean to you, DR? Yes, almost everyone's heard of the 'household names'; but would it surprise you to know the term means "Having or showing exceptional ability or powers beyond normal standards."? How far can that extend.... how far can that be made to extend?

Take Sports Stars, for instance. One of my few remaining pleasures is watching the England Cricket Teams - when they're doing well! Time differences aren't of much account when one is in my position; and in any case I've always been something of a night-owl - not to mention that (except after one particular activity) I find I don't need all that much sleep nowadays.

You, DR, would probably opt for Baseball or your version of 'Rugger' (which you people persist in calling 'Football' for some strange reason. Footballs are spherical! I ought to know, the game was being played in Britain and France - and the name had been coined - long before America was discovered). Plus. only the 'goalie' is allowed to handle the ball during play - most of your players would be sent-off for 'handball'!

Are top sportspeople Superhuman? Smacking 'Sixes' out of the stadium, seemingly virtually at will, or bowling a ball in excess of ninety-miles-an-hour - which some of them can - certainly wasn't anywhere near being within my capabilities; even when I was able to 'stand on my own two feet' and move around on them.

I also wonder what those elements of this country's population who worship in a Synagogue, rather than some form of Church, make of the Superhuman Registration Act. They've got long memories (and probably no little feeling of guilt) for what began in 1930s Germany as a 'Registration' process and ended-up with six million of their cousins, over a great swathe of Europe, starved to death and/or worked to death and/or gassed and then incinerated.

Largely because rabble-rousing politicians saw them as convenient scapegoats.

Personally, I would have welcomed a Superhuman deciding to be my friend-at-need; that day. The day my healthy body transformed into virtual uselessness. Would any Superhuman (particularly the Unregistered or Anti-registration examples) risk exposing their true nature in this current (and probably future) climate of - shall we be generous and call it "suspicion"? - towards their kind by pulling-off an altruistic rescue in public? I rather doubt it.

I am probably the embodiment of the phrase; "Money cannot buy happiness" and its extension "but it does enable one to be miserable in reasonable comfort".

Money I have; five or six million dollars worth, depending on 'Blue Chip' Stock fluctuations; and my ongoing care has been well provided for - for the rest of my natural life. Added to that, my family's money and connections are there in the background for others to take account of. Those do tend to get me some preferential treatment, most obviously my large private room on the ground (first) floor, complete with access to a conservatory. The downside is that I have a view of both the public and discreet entrances to this resort/hotel for the broken-bodied. The latter is in regular use for those residents who have given up - some nights I see the hearses coming and going in the 'wee small hours'. You wouldn't think 'ending it all' would be much of a possibility for those in my position, would you, DR? Let's just say there are ways and means!

I spend almost all my time in a motorised bed-chair, a really ingenious bit of mechanism - actually based on the non-mobile item used by trophy-hunting anglers, although mine is much more robust. It will even take me out into the grounds for a spot of 'fresh' air when I wish - although the freshness of the air this close to the city is somewhat debatable. Among its other tricks, it can lift me up and down so I can cook when I decide to forgo the set menu offerings in favour of something different. My omelettes seem quite popular.

Personal hygiene involves a hoist (with a waterproofed control pad) to suspend me in the 'shower cubicle' where I get jet-washed. Drying is by copious amounts of heated dehumidified air; just like a plate in the kitchens! Yes, I can and do get myself dressed, thank you very much!

For journeys outside the grounds I have my own customised set of 'wheels', a petrol-electric hybrid. The vehicle looks like a small van from the outside, but is a technological marvel within. I'm not supposed to take it out on my own, but I can and do - unknown to the staff here it is one of those 'driverless vehicles' that were being played about with just prior to the 'incident' at "That Rodent's" theme park which changed my life forever. Actually, concealed cameras and high-resolution interior viewing screens give me a much better all-around view, including of the road ahead, than any other vehicle possesses. There are no inconvenient blind spots.

Although the normal "driving position" is present and fully functional, a turn of a key makes it redundant; whereupon 'Buster' makes his appearance through the "driver's" seat. Named after a certain crash-test dummy, Buster is there to deflect suspicion away from who is actually in command of the vehicle - namely me and the on-board computer! Tinted glass makes clear observation from outside difficult, at best, especially at night - which is when I will neither need nor want a future witness to squeal about what I've been getting up to - I'm not anxious to become a target for blackmail, or arrest!

You think I'm joking, or dramatising, DR? I'm not. I have a peculiar little Metahuman ability myself. Possibly some form of Compensation Development. Not all that effective as yet, but it's there.

SRA must fall! Before the requirement to 'register' turns into a requirement to also wear some brightly-coloured geometrical symbol. Before the 'relocations' (ostensibly for our and/or the public's safety) start. Politicians will do anything to get a vote or two ahead of their nearest rival; to keep what power and perks they already have or to oust someone else and take over theirs. Manufacturing a threat which they claim they'll nullify is part of the game to them, no matter who gets hurt in the process. As I said, it's all happened before.

As I see it, the most effective way to bring SRA down is to render it unworkable. I think the best way of doing that is to smash-up Screening and Registration Centres before they come fully online; and hope others follow suit. Little or no data coming in plus a lot of money (in repair/replacement costs) going out; that should promote a rethink!

Or am I just fantasising, DR? The shrinks say it's quite common here, where many people have little they're able to do except daydream. Empowerment fantasies, they call them.

I've ended up here because of the place's proximity to Johns Hopkins, the last set of Docs (I really can't refer to them by the normal 'Brit' nickname of 'Quacks', not those) to take a look at my records, poke and prod me a bit, feed me through their machines then 'tut-tut' and shake their heads. On the brighter side, if anything does come along to improve matters for me, it'll likely be known at Hopkins first - if not have been invented there.

Day 1501.

Well that's a turn-up. Protests and demonstrations about SRA in multiple locations worldwide. Not unexpected, though. One of the Staff here tried to get me talking when I went for my breakfast. New girl. Don't yet know the ropes, or my ways.

Decided to eat in my room today, where I can watch developments in privacy; and get some grub without having to run people over!


TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC: Nina Kowalski
Personal Quarters, Triskelion HQ

Nina Kowalski's personal cell phone lied face down on the nightstand beside her bed, the charging cable plugged into the wall right beside it. Also on this nightstand was a copy of Elie Wiesel's Night and a horizontal five by seven picture frame, inside the frame a photo of Nina standing in between her parents and the three of them beaming at the camera, each wearing hiking gear while standing in front of a grassy canyon. Nina was practically a younger version of her mother as they both stood the same height and had the same exuberant smiles on their faces. Her father stood a good six inches above them, a man in good shape with a greying head of hair and clearly proud to be standing next to the two women in the shot.

Every morning at 5:00 Nina's phone would begin to vibrate and play a random piece of music from her library of songs at maximum volume. This morning's soundtrack was Trampled Under Foot, and Nina rolled over in her bed to turn it off and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds before she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got started on her morning routine.

Her personal quarters at Triskelion was the size of a luxurious hotel room, complete with a nice kitchen and a bathroom any woman of thirty-two years would be pleased with. The walls of the room were decorated with a couple photo collages of Nina's family and friends and not much else. Being far away from home was always made easier with reminders of her loved ones. There was a desk in the corner of the room with a computer on it, and this was Nina's first stop after she'd gone to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and put her hair up in a messy bun.

Anti-SRA demonstrations was the title of the only unread message in her S.H.I.E.L.D. inbox. "Fun," she mused as she opened the email, which informed her that civilian cases in these matters were the New York Police Department's business, while S.H.I.E.L.D. was concerned with threats that fell under the superhuman umbrella. Latveria needed to stay a thing of the past. Made sense. Nina was summoned to a full debriefing with Hill and Giles at 9:00. Just a little under four hours.

Nina yawned and stretched and got up from her office chair and went to the kitchen to make a small bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and then she got dressed in her workout clothes and grabbed her water bottle and headed down to the gym to get the day started.

Triskelion's facilities were quite impressive. The gym was a very large space filled with treadmills, ellipticals, stationary bikes, machines for just about every muscle group in the human body, free weights, mats, balls, a basketball court, and television sets along the walls playing sports and news reports. Nina's first stop was always the treadmill after her stretches, and there were only a few other agents working out at this time of the morning, the usual suspects.

Nina had just finished her last set of bench presses when her fellow agent Brooke Rhodes approached her. "Hey girl," she said, wiping her brow with a towel. She was a tall black woman dressed in a sports bra and shorts with short hair and an enviable muscular stature. Her and Nina had been friends for years.

"Hey," Nina smiled and sat up and took a drink from her water bottle.

Brooke was putting weights on her own bar. "The protesters are getting bad."

"Yeah?"

"All over the world. It's crazy. Word is we're even utilizing NuSentinels for crowd control."

"No kidding." Nina shook her head and popped her knuckles, her elbows resting on her knees.

"I'll never understand it." Brooke lied down beneath the bar and put her arms up and grasped the metal and began her reps.

Nina returned to her room after her workout and downed a protein shake and took a shower and got dressed. She wore her typical dark blue S.H.I.E.L.D. jumpsuit and belt with a holster for her pistol along her right thigh. She pulled back her blonde hair into a ponytail and applied some makeup and looked in the mirror to make sure everything was in order. She put her commlink over her right ear and sent her mother a good morning text before she headed out the door on her way to the briefing with Hill and Giles.

Tag: greyjedi125, Darth_Elu

 

Ira Sinclair and Harriet Sinclair
Roadside Motel
Outside Livingston, Montana

Ira and Harriet entered the motel with Ira in the lead. His legs were longer, so he naturally walked faster, but Harriet also preferred taking the flank. It gave her more time to survey the situation, and Ira was able to command the conversation.

Ira strode confidently towards the receptionist’s desk and smiled brightly. Harriet stood behind him with an almost vacant look on her face. She immediately took to watching the scene unfolding on the on the television behind the desk. She knew that she could rely on Ira to handle the room.

“How are you two doing today? Staying for a spell?”

Harriet glanced at the woman. She was large and homely and her smile seemed genuine. She seemed to be analyzing the twins. No doubt making an assumption about their relationship. Harriet had noticed that a lot of people did this, but none so much as older women. They seemed to have an underlying need to pry. She grew bored of the woman and returned her attention to the drama on the TV.

Ira held the smile, standing offset between Harriet and the woman behind the counter. He knew that she preferred to be removed from conversations. He did his best to fulfill this, though many people, women especially, directed questions towards her. Especially when they wondered about the nature of Harriet and his relationship. Truthfully, that was a common occurrence.

Ira nodded to the question and said, “We’re doing well, ma’am. Just passing through town. We were wondering if you had a room available with two beds.” Ira glanced back at Harriet. He could almost feel her concern. At the same moment, Harriet tapped Ira on the shoulder and nodded at the television. Ira looked up, and saw the protest in Central Park. He looked back at the woman behind the desk and to diffuse Harriet’s slip up, said, “Is that about the Superhero Act? We’ve been on the road for a while and haven’t been keeping up.”

Harriet quickly realized how blatantly worried she could have seemed, and redirected her attention to the woman, with a look of muted interest, as if waiting for her answer.

Tag: greyjedi125

 

Alastor Zingari
Apartment 14E, The Vermeer, 7th Avenue, NYC

Protests were expected, Alastor thought to himself as he moved about his apartment, packing clothes, a few weapons, and some other items he’d take with him. The whole idea of the SRA was a disaster waiting to happen, he knew that, he’d seen what happened when people who were openly registered fell into the cross-hairs of those in power. It was one of the reasons he never stuck around with SHIELD, for all the good they thought they were doing, they were just tools.

“And not tools for a better world,” He said out loud as he pulled out his revolver, checked to make sure it was loaded before giving it a spin and placing it in his shoulder holster. Walking over to the window he looked down at the people marching through the street. He wasn’t sure if they were for, or against. It didn’t matter, the whole world could have been against but until someone in power had a change of heart the laws would just keep ramming through.

He was about to step away when he noticed the figure on an adjacent roof. His brow furrowed and a frown filled his face. Pulling out his OpSat he snapped a quick photo, it was poor quality and all considered but that was fine. Throwing a jacket on, he decided he was going to take a closer look from the roof himself, but just in case he forwarded an image along to Overwatch with the added message ‘shady character near rally, expect cliché, keep free agents notified.’

Stepping into the lift hit the button for the top floor, opting out of taking the stairs, and was about to put the phone up when another idea struck him. Bringing up some of the proxy programs built into the handheld he created a burnable twitter account NYCSRARALLYWATCH2K16 and threw up a few scheduled tweets about the rally, keeping it agnostic, and then the picture “Odd figure on roof near 7th #SRARally #SRANYC #StayWoke #StaySafe”

The elevator dinged and he stepped out of the lift and turned towards the stairwell that lead up onto the roof. He hoped, for what hope was worth, that this wasn’t some clichéd attempt at causing a riot, like something out of some Cyberpunk Game and people protesting against cybernetics or something. If it was, well, pain him tho it was, it was something he’d need to not get involved in.

Tag: greyjedi125

 

Zephyr Vaillancourt
Zeckendorf Towers, NYC


There were so many of them, easily a few thousand agitated protestors, and by the cacophony of shouts, bullhorns and chants, one could almost imagine to countdown to an inevitable clash.

Zephyr regarded the churning throng of protestors with a measure of concern, this was a classic powder keg situation and anything could set this off, and the results would only turn out to the advantage of ‘policy makers’.

A momentary flash of annoyance crossed his face as this latest development soured the air around the city (and the world), further reducing his chance to meet another hero or friendly metahuman.
This demonstration was almost guaranteed to bring all super-heroing to a halt, perhaps with the exception of the bad guys.
Was that the aim of all this, to flush out metas? These things always felt like a set up or a trap one way or another.

What to do, what to do? Looking at his high tech ‘watch’, he scrolled through his messages and missed calls.

‘Let me know if you need anything’ read the most recent text, this brought a smile to his face; it was form home, and he immediately knew that it was an offer to assist should he decide to be a good Samaritan during the demonstrations.
But he also knew that it was risky, not only was there a strong police presence, it was announced that NuSentinels were deployed to SRA centers as a precaution. “Ha! That’s a good one, I can only imagine the stuff they haven’t announced” he scoffed inwardly.

As potentially bad as that sounded, he didn’t want to stay inside and he definitely didn’t want to join the demonstration.

Perhaps a bit of ‘fresh’ air and some pizza would help break the onset of gloom that threatened to descend upon him.
There was a decent Pizza Place a few blocks to the east of the area, and they had a huge flatscreen in the back, where most likely the televised demonstration was playing.

There was also the fact that Zack was out there too, probably using his keen logic to shut down any Pro-Registration clown and making them very angry in the process.

He really liked Zack, he was one of the few interns at the lab with whom he got along with swimmingly. Great at video games, especially the fighting ones, always used the characters with a zillion moves, and always had the best attitude about everything.

So it was settled, get Zack out of the hot-zone and get some pizza at a strategic place.

With that decided, young Zephyr, ‘changed his clothes’ to suit this outing; a stylish black hoody, with some nice and shiny buckles, black jeans with a modern fit, and sports shoes, something between boots and sneakers. He was still feeling the new hairstyle, so there was no need to tweak the hair.

“Now lets see if he picks up…hopefully he’ll have his phone on vibrate or something…”

After dialing his friend and hearing the ringtone, Zephyr closed his eyes as if to ask of the Universe to hold off any possible escalation in the volatile climate outside, no hero ever wanted to start their day on an empty stomach.



Tag: greyjedi125

 

IC: Blueline
Near Union Square Park, NYC

It was a morning like any other. He woke groggily from his bed in the shelter and followed Sal and Vic to the soup kitchen where they had breakfast. It was never enough for Blue, he always left feeling just a little hungry, in fact he'd been just a little hungry for a while now, never able to get enough food in him to satisfy his appetite. As they passed an electronics store Blue took a look at the televisions playing the news. There was no sound but, he could see words like Registration Act and protests, then came a picture of two towering Sentinels, the Nu…whatever it is, part of him knew that there was a word for something that came in front of another word but, that information was less important. The Nu part of the name meant nothing, they were still mutant hunters and metahuman killers. That just showed him how much people hated the SRA, that the government would have to station killer robots around their facilities to keep them safe.

Blue was never going anywhere near those places. He didn't need the government telling him how to do his job. Being a hero is a calling, you feel it in your heart. When someone's getting beat on you run towards, you don't walk away. You don't kill either, that makes you a murderer, not a hero. This was stuff he understood the moment he rushed in to save Zeke, he didn't need training for that. Dispite those feelings that didn't mean he was OK with what went down in Lavteria, yes he'd heard about that it was in old newspapers for days, he'd seen the pictures and he was horrified. Heroes protect cities and the people in them. They don't cross international borders, that's the government's job. He put his hand on his rumbling belly,

'If SHIELD was offering three hots and a cot…' he shook his head, that wasn't who he was, he would not go against his nature just to be fed. 'That's not what a hero does, a hero sacrifices, gives of themselves for others, for no other reason than to do good. We need no praise and, we need no reward. We also don't need the government telling us how to save people.' His mind wandered as he followed his two friends, that's what he considered them. They told him things about themselves and he told things about himself. He told them he lost his parents, and then the rest of his family. He never told them how, and he never told them about Alison, or Charlotte, or Zeke, those were too personal, wounds that were still too deep. He also didn't tell them about his 'gift' for lack of a better term. He didn't want them testing his limits or being afraid of him, like he was some sort of freak.

"Hey…" Sal said drawing Blue's attention, his speech was a little slurred but, that was excusable man was still getting used to being sober, "What day is it? There’s some kinda march?" Blue's head looked up to see a crowd of people walking, shouting, holding signs that read

'NO MORE MUTANTS'

The young man untied then tightened the bandana covering his face. He always wore it, even around Sal and Vic, he'd gotten used to just having it on. Sure he looked weird but, the blood stained hoodie and rusted handcuffs already did that.

He looked at his current blue hoodie. The bullet holes and knife slashes were already apparent in it, his own blood staining the edges of the tears. When asked about it, he passed it off with a 'You should see the other guy' and a laugh. He wanted to wash it, try and get some of the blood stains out but, his current situation left him no time, or money for laundry.

Throwing up his hood, over his unkempt shaggy blonde hair, he looked around. Large crowds had a tendency to attract cops Blue has a difficult relationship with law enforcement. More than once had he fought with one, and two died, well at least he thought they were cops, trying to bring him and Zeke in. As he moved up the line more people were talking about the mass of voices and noise that was passing nearby. Part of Blue wanted to run after getting his meal. If the cops hassle him bad things could happen. But, he couldn't run, he could feel it, the tension in the air, things were primed for violence.

He didn't agree on bit with the sentiments of the people marching, but heroes don't get to pick and choose who they save. If a person's in trouble you save them, no questions. Though he worried if something was to start in that crowd could he tell perp from victim? His rule of thumb had always been, 'whoever's on the ground, or whoever looks weaker is the victim.' He was unsure now if that rule would work, but what else could he do. He wasn't going to just let people get hurt.

"Couldn’t they have waited until after breakfast?" Blue nodded his head,

'Yeah healing is much easier with a full belly.'

TAG: greyjedi125

 

IC as Kera Miles

Clothes littered the bed and inside the small walk-in closet was a pile of shoes, currently forgotten. Even the makeup scattered along the white desk-turned vanity. The young woman sat in the cushioned chair before the mirror but her and her reflection were turned to watch the medium sized tv in the other corner of the room.

The newscaster were doing all they could to cover all the details of the demonstration and it must've been a good deal of work because the event was picking up speed fast. All over the state. All over the country. All over the world. It was to tell who was in support of the registration act and who was against it in the massive throng of people. Police squads stationed themselves to be ready for anything and with the tensions rising as they were, something could very well happen with possibly a push, a rock thrown, negative words being exchanged. It was only a matter of time.

The sound of buzzing on the table and a pause in music playing on her phone, only barely caught her attention away from the screen. She glanced at her phone. Missed call - Samantha. She'll call back, she thought and focused her attention back on the tv. It was all a very confusing situation with the registration. Kera looked down at her hands.

And what did it all mean to her? The agency who was responsible for those with powers was enforcing a law that any person with such abilities had to register and beyond that, who knew what more they wanted. And was she even technically considered one of those people? The people they were talking about had powers to save, or destroy, the world. Surely she wasn't one of them. But still...

Her phone vibrated again, silencing her music, which was mostly ignored for now. This time was from both of her friends and left messages saying they were still interesting in going to the mall, despite the obvious fact that it was the current location for just one (albeit smaller) protest. She couldn't help but furrow her brows slightly, green eyes darting back to the tv.

After a moment, she shook her head. No, it would be fine. And besides, since everyone was outside, perhaps it was pretty empty inside the mall. Could be worth it to get some well needed things.

Kera turned back fully to face the mirror before her and sent a group text to her friends to announce she was nearly ready. It was decided that Sam would be picking the other two up and would arrive shortly. The young woman finished up her makeup, finishing it with a few swipes of mascara to her eyelashes. It was daytime, so her eyeliner and eyeshadow were more natural tones and weren't heavy. Standing, she moved to tv and watched it a moment longer before switching it off and heading to the door. Her outfit consisted of jeans and a white loose shirt and hung off one shoulder a little; her long purple hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sliding her feet into flats and grabbing up her purse and personal items, she made her way out the door and locking it behind her.

She slid sunglasses over her eyes and spotted a familiar car pulling up. She offered a slight smile and a 'hey' to her friend before stepping in. She was a little anxious but wouldn't let it show.

Tag: greyjedi125

 

Gami
Woodlin Tree House


Gami had wandered down, from where she was doing her morning chores, when she heard one of the sentries get excited, as they came back into the grove. Gami liked the grove. It was nice and peaceful. Quiet. They had normal trees there, and a tree house that was absolutely amazing. Living up in the trees themselves was wonderful. And the older couple that ran the place were fun too. Poppa and Momma Woodlin. Reminded Gami of pictures from way back when, uh... hippies? Yeah, that was the world. Long hair, both of them. But now, her attention was drawn back to the item one of the listeners had brought back. One of them had found a radio. And it even worked. Gami came close, but frowned slightly. She didnt really want to know what was going on outside of the grove. That last bit of excitement, had to do when Isaac had joined them. But that had been a good thing. Gami didnt think this one would be good. She grew quiet and listened. Everyone stopped what they were doing for a moment and came over forming a circle around Jake.

They listened for a long moment as a woman’s voice spoke of folks marching and protesting. Riots. Yep, it wasnt good news at all. “What does that have to do with us?” someone asked. “Well, there’s a camp not too far down which has some….” “Now, Jake….” Momma Woodlin spoke cutting him off. Gami stayed quiet. She knew talking about that kind of stuff, was like talking about religion or politics. Always stirs up trouble and fights. She had walked her way down from Canada, to here down in Maine. She was hoping to avoid the conflicts. They werent near any major cities, so she hoped to stay away from any conflicts. She had seen war, and what it did to people. She didnt want any part of it.

“If anyone comes around these parts looking for trouble, I guess we’ll just have to put ‘em to sleep, now won’t we?” Momma Woodlin nodded her head affirmatively, as she quickly searched in pockets, drew a fist full of some kind go powder, showed it to those gathered, then her hand disappeared back into her pocket. Poppa Woodlin simply nodded.

Well, at least they had the right idea. Put em to sleep. Not kill them. No fighting. Thats why Gami liked it here. Papa Woodlin spoke up then. “Alright, then. Let’s get back to our business….” he intoned encouragingly. He turned to the listener who had brought the radio in. “You keep your eyes and ears peeled, Jake.” The scout nodded, though the look of worry still remained upon his brow.

Then Jake turned towards Issac the new guy, and her. “Isaac, Gami, you two keep your eyes peeled too!” Jake advised, now looking out into the distance. “And don’t go out fishing alone for a couple of days, ok….” Jake added, as he made ready to head out back to his post. Gami grinned and responded. "Okay Jake. You be careful too!" she called back out to him as he headed back out.

Gami looked over at the new guy, Isacc. "I sure hope we're far enough from the cities to avoid that stuff." she spoke softly. She looked around them. "This place is so peaceful." she added with a nod.



Tag: Darth_Elu, greyjedi125

 

Fashionably late to the party. GM approved!

Name: Autonomous Canine Emulation Unit G3-001 Charlie
Codename: A.C.E.
Gender: none (however responds to male pronouns)
Age: 11 operational years
Hair: Brown, black and cream (usually – fur is changeable)
Eyes: Brown
Height: 3ft/ 91.5cm at shoulder
Weight: ~ 250lbs/113Kg
Likes: Running, Chasing things, Working,Harmless pranks and Jokes, Children, Small animals
Dislikes: Not much – he’s pretty chill. People hurting other people triggers his ‘instinct’ to protect, but Adults/Supers intentionally hurting children/normal humans who cannot defend themselves send him into an absolute rage.
Appearance: ACE appears to be an ordinary (though massive) German Shepherd dog, however his fur is made up of special ‘fabric’ that works in a very similar fashion to a cephalopod or chameleon using artificial chromatophore-like technology. He cannot blend perfectly into an environment (become invisible) but he can alter the color and pattern of his coat to appear to be a husky, or an all-black Alsatian, for example, or mottled browns and blacks for camouflage in tall grass or forest during Recon and Infiltration.


Personality: ACE is built to be good under pressure and level-headed. Not much ruffles his fur. He’s just as happy to lounge on the couch as he is working hard – but nothing makes him happier than when he’s put to work. He doesn’t take things personally, even when he probably should. His personality is a conglomeration of mind-scanned soldiers and their dogs, formed and guided by his Handler who was a kind and patient man with strong convictions about protecting those who could not protect themselves. Something of a white-knight in a dark and dangerous world.

ACE is fiercely loyal to those he deems worthy of his respect. His moral compass is steered by those to whom he swears his allegiance, such as Zingari. He cannot understand the intricate and complicated subtleties between one set of arbitrary morality rules and another so he leaves that up to the people he trusts. His programming and personal code are simply “Protect those who cannot protect themselves at any personal cost.”


Bio: See -http://specialagentace.weebly.com/index.html

Following the Skrull Wars and the enactment of the SRA, he became part of a sweeping effort to ‘encourage’ registration. He was assigned to a SHIELD team initiative to track down super and meta humans and give them a ‘pep talk’ on the benefits of registration. Long-term exposure to military-action style enforcement caused ACE to doubt that what they were doing was to protect people - his primary objective. The final straw was witnessing the televised and heavily edited aftermath of the battle at Xavier’s School.

Uncertain what the right answers were, but unwilling to take part in a systematic subjugation, categorization and segregation of Super and Meta Humans until he was SURE it was the right thing to do, ACE went in search of guidance from the one man in his time serving with SHIELD whose opinions he trusted.

It took a lot of work and a long time, but he managed to track down Alastor Zingari, a former friend in SHIELD and frequent partner. He has been with Zingari since.

 

A.C.E
The Vermeer, NYC, Apt. 14E

Resting and recharging during downtime was always good. If he dreamt, well, that was a question for far more knowledgeable individuals in that field. What was certain, was the fact that he still registered sounds as information.

Ace’s ears perked up when the front door closed. His head came up from a resting position, and he could now see that Alastor was not in his field of vision. Now that he was more alert, other ambient sounds came to his attention.

Particularly the sound of many humans. And from the sound of it, they didn’t seem none too pleased about something. The stress levels in their voices made that quite apparent.

Getting up now and taking another cursory look, it was revealed that Alastor had been packing and wasn’t quite finished, but not much else. No one else had entered the apartment. He would know, since he was facing the door, so it stood to reason that Alastor had just exited.

The canine was an ‘independent thinker’, so the question now was, how would he proceed from here?


Tag: @G3-001C

 

Alastor didn't usually leave things half-finished, so the canine put himself on alert. If the noise outside was any indication of why his friend had left things incomplete, he needed to know why. Alastor was not a flighty man, nor was he terribly altruistic. Something left behind meant potential danger. The first thing he did was connect to the internet and scour the news feeds. It didn't take long to get a sense of the trouble brewing outside.

"Riots are rumored to be breaking out across the nation today, " one reporter in a youtube video uploaded only moments ago declared, "as opposition to the SRA grows. Protests from both sides of the fence are clashing on the streets here in Washington, D.C. There is a strong police presence..." The video swung to a dark line of police, dressed in riot gear, shields held up high. "... in response to rising tensions between the two opposing sides. The authorities are urging people to stay in their homes if they live in the city- and to find alternative ways of getting out of the city if you live within the DC Metro area. Downtown streets are being blocked by protesters and police forces are setting barriers in an effort to steer the impromptu Marches away from residential areas- traffic officials are doing their best to reroute, but be advised there are heavy delays. Metro services are ..."

ACE padded over to the window and peered out at the crowds gathering in the streets of New York City funneling toward Times Square with signs held aloft, chanting for change. It didn't look terribly violent, yet, but the Media was stirring up fear and it would only be a matter of time before something happened. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been witness to protests against the Registration Act, but this time he wasn't working the Riot Control line. He'd been on the front line when the SRA had been voted into law. The violent protests that followed had been a frightening reminder of the war zone he'd spent most of his operational life in. Worse - it was on home soil. Overturned cars and broken shop windows. Fires. Tear Gas. Gunshots. Rocks and beer bottles hurtling through the air, landing heavily against polycarbonate shields. He'd been part of the team enlisted to break the crowds up and encourage them to leave. It had been several long nights of fierce combat that had left the nation feeling raw. Metahumans were rounded up like cattle and detained - even those simply trying to get home through the chaos. He did not remember those nights fondly.

This time, however, he was working with Alastor.

Speaking of which -

ACE sent a digital inquiry, hoping the Merc was still within range. Everything OK?

Kahn_Iceay, greyjedi125

 

Isaac Angakkuq IC:
~Woodlin Tree House, Maine~

Isaac simply went about his business at the base of the tree house that belongs to the Woodlins, doing his part in cleaning up the area as asked. Seeing no reason to decline and being happy to help, he set about with simple determination in his tasks.

It had been a long trip, or at least felt like it, from Quebec City to the United States. In truth it had probably only been a mere five hours, but due to rainy weather and tedium amidst the travel it could have been a whole day in his mind. Didn't help that his eternal companion insisted they stop near the international border so he could be lectured about regional and national spirits, etc.

Honestly, Isaac had barely paid any attention and was glad when he escaped reprimand from his guardian spirit…least until the next day when she finally revealed she had noticed and was still rather irritated.

Either way, things were good now. They settled in nicely at the Woodlins, even if the stay was only temporary. Granted, it was a nice change of pace especially with recent world events, and he had decided to extend his stay a while longer due to their kindness, which helped overlook their…eclectic nature. But at some point, he would move on. He was a city man after all.

Soon enough he heard a small commotion and paused what he was doing to look over. Seemed like everyone else was gathering up to listen to Jake and that working radio of his. His eyebrow raised but shrugged it off.

<Go. Listen in.>

A sigh. "Really? Is it that important? I like the Woodlins and the others here, but I doubt--"

<You're really doubting me? After all I've done for you and this is the thanks I get…>

"Yeah, I get the point, Mother," he mumbled under his breath jokingly so none could hear as usual. I mean, who would want to see a man talking to himself after all? Isaac had gotten quite good at disguising his audible words to Firefly both in volume and by sight over the years.

Walking over to join all the others, he idly nodded to Gami as he listened in.

“If anyone comes around these parts looking for trouble, I guess we’ll just have to put ‘em to sleep, now won’t we?”

His brow furrowed. What was this all about? Leave it to spirits to know something of interest was up after all. Isaac watched as Momma Woodlin showed off her peculiar sleep powder and then whisk it away again. Poppa Woodlin was just nodding in agreement.

As they whispered though, his ears were trained to the radio. Riots, protests, and passionate civilian speeches about the SRA. Of course it was about that…what was Firefly getting at by making sure he listened to this? Was she finally pointing him toward being screened and registering? Or was it the opposite?

Spirits…A mental sigh accompanied the thought.

At the mention of getting back to business, Isaac just nodded. He heard what Firefly meant him to clearly.

“You keep your eyes and ears peeled, Jake.”

“Isaac, Gami, you two keep your eyes peeled too! And don’t go out fishing alone for a couple of days, ok….”

He nodded, if making a slight face. He had been planning on doing just that after chores were over for just a bit. It was a relaxing thing for him and reminded him of his childhood, to be denied it was rather sour. Though he understood perfectly well why.

"Okay Jake. You be careful too!" Gami to the scout.

Firefly had an interesting emotion flash toward him and he nearly frowned visibly, though prevented it. That had been too quick, what was that? She could feel his curiosity, but she remained resolute in her silence for the time being.

Nevertheless, Gami pulled his attention back to her and away from the ethereal realm, though he couldn't help but use the empathic ability lightly on her to get a good read of her true emotions right then. He didn't know her well, but Isaac had always noticed Gami seemed especially fidgety over things like this. Normally, there was a reason why. He wouldn't pry overtly, but he could feel the depths of any emotion on the matter which would hint to him how big of a subject it was to her. And thus, how gently or very honestly he needed to be with her regarding the SRA riots in the future. Best to know now while the topic had everyone on alert.

"I sure hope we're far enough from the cities to avoid that stuff," she spoke softly. She looked around them a bit. "This place is so peaceful." At that, she nodded as well.

"I like the cities myself," he mused in response, "But yes this situation is a bit different. I'm sure this area will be left alone by them."

He took a good look around at the, agreeably peaceful, surroundings as she had done a moment previous. "Yes. I don't see why they'd come anywhere near here, honestly. What do you think of the SRA thing?"

<Jake.>

Huh?

<Just watch Jake closely.>

That was odd. And kind of creepy.

Firefly…what is it? Is he doing something wrong?

A sense of slight annoyance, as if he should know better. He didn't need that said to him know what that feeling meant. <Not now, but soon enough. Later.>

Apprehension. Will he do something wrong? Or will he be in trouble?

<Could be either. It may not be him at all, but rather an indirect connection. That is for you to find out.>

Again that feeling of 'you know you should know better by now, I talk cryptically!' passed to him. He sighed.

Just watch him, right?

No reply, but a feeling of confirmation did arrive. It almost felt like she had wanted to hide that sense so as to keep him in the dark longer, but took too long in deciding to do that. Spirits. So they did have a playful side at your expense. Oi!

A sigh from his lips this time, which he passed off as nothing more than a deep breath as he continued to look about and waited for Gami's reply. He'd wait just a bit before figuring out how to keep an eye on Jake…for whatever reason.

Tag: Gami

*****
Cameron Giles IC:
~Triskelion HQ~

"Welcome home, Deputy Director Giles."

Cameron just walked into his Personal Quarters at Triskelion, ignoring the room AI as his coat was being folded up and set over the back of a nearby chair for the time being. In his particular situation it was best to set it there this time as he just may need to come back in and get it soon enough. It was faster, more efficient, to leave it there in easy reach by the door. Yet nicely folded so it wasn't an eyesore.

Shaking his head and letting out a small 'huff' of a breath, he moved around to the kitchen in his spacious quarters to retrieve a bottle of water. Nice and simple, no need for anything stronger right then. He was awake enough as it was, tired perhaps, but not sleepy. Too much to do. Too much having been done. Still felt like he was working right then. His job was always one that felt hard to come down from…and he thought espionage work was overwhelming at times! Administration and executive managing was a whole other beast!

Feeling the cool bottle in his hands as he moved back to sit on the chair close to the door kept him rooted to the fact that he was 'home'. Such as it was. Taking a sip and glancing at the clock he saw it read: 3:57 a.m.

Just one of those days. He had been asked, with a tinge of an apologetic smile (was it truly sorry? That's another matter), if he could check in with a few SRA stations in the wee hours of the day as they had fully anticipated these protests. At least some, if not all. And SHIELD must always be prepared.

Everything went smoothly, rather boring really, during the checkups. Using him to do it was just a simple way of alerting those getting the stations ready for the day know that they were being watched even from higher ups. Today was a big day.

We're watching to protect. We're watching to make certain some things do not repeat.

There was no time for sleep now that he was back, no. He had a full day outlined for him, sleep was just a tempting mermaid of the Sea of Dreams calling forlornly through the morning fog. Cameron would just have to push it from his mind, which he did as he had done many times before in his professional life.

4:36 a.m.

Back at the executive 'ring' of Triskelion HQ, Cameron checked up on all the reports he was receiving. Streamlining his process when and where possible. Charts and brief to moderately lengthened summaries depicted how analysis of the day would fall out. Of course, any one of them could be spot on. Or wildly off base.

But his job was to help make sure SHIELD was, again, always prepared. Director Hill had her duties, the major lifting, while he had the somewhat less major things to oversee. But no less critical…or excruciating in some cases.

5:01 a.m.

He watched the Director's retreating form (It seemed like she had been up for a bit as well, though he couldn't be sure) before he himself turned to make his rounds among the more junior officer staff as asked, passing the word on that the NYPD was going to be charged with all civilian cases. Truthfully, this was expected from just about everyone. Of course, there were a few other orders and questions thrown in the mix while doing that. The whole time he kept in mind that Director Hill had just asked him to accompany her in giving a full debriefing with Agent Kowalski at nine.

Cameron looked at the clock. Four more hours. Plenty of time.

7:45 a.m.

The metahuman Deputy quietly oversaw the condition and availability of some of their 'toys' just incase anything warranted their use. Naturally, he hoped that wouldn't be the case…but projections nearly guaranteed some kind of superhuman involvement. So, he wanted to make sure they were all ready to go and nothing would impede agents from retrieving necessary gear swiftly. This was a personal matter, but he took upon it himself to deliver a small audible report that all was well amongst them to the Director within about ten minutes.

As he left, he smiled and inclined his head to another agent who greeted him as 'Deputy Director Gemini'.

Some of the protests were already in full swing and those on the Atlantic Coast of the U.S. were beginning to swell in size as well. Morning larks evidently.

8:49 a.m.

Making sure to be fashionably early to the debrief while the world began to rage, he made his way to the meeting room where he would soon be with Director Hill and Nina Kowalski. The day's true beginning was only just upon them.

If he was a lesser man, Cameron would have groaned. Instead, he stared straight ahead.

Tag: Director Maria Hill & Nina Kowalski