Degenerates

[Brave]

Female Spots:


1.


2.


3.


4.


5.


Male Spots:


1. Me


2. @Esoteric Truth


3. @BarkWolfBacon


4.


5.


Character Skeleton:


Name//Age//Orientation


Appearance (Gifs and still pictures only; no anime)


Power//Weakness


Personality


Bio


Theme Song (for fun)

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Thaddeus Watcher//224//Demisexual


Appearance:

Powers: Kinetic Absorption & Invulnerability//Weakness: Immortality & Time


No matter if its bullets, a bomb, fire, knifes, tsunami or tornado, any type of kinetic energy absorbed gives him strength, endurance, and heavier bone density. Because of the bomb and the amount of energy absorbed Thaddeus now is invulnerable to most physical attacks, however his mind is weak against physic abilities. As a result of long life, Thaddeus is ready and willing to except death in all forms, however his abilities won't allow him to die.


Personality:


"No need to bother yourself with me."


Thaddeus Watcher is the perfect text book definition of the word leader. He is loyal, and selfless. Quick to trust and lend a hand, but slow on the uptake of his own limitations. Time has made him quiet. His once boisterous self silenced under the weight of war and death. Famine and chaos. He cherishes the little moments in life that others take for granted. A sunrise. A breath of fresh air. A decent nights sleep. He doesn't understand idioms or technology, and doesn't allow himself a chance to let his guard down. He is always the confident and tactical general the team needs of him. He lives his life by a strict moral code, black and white. Good and evil. There is no room for chance or a grey area. He doesn't let himself get close to others so he has the ability to let go of them when time withers them away to dust. Death will be their outcome, while immortality will be his.


Backstory:


"It's too long a tale, I'm afraid."





Thaddeus Watcher was born on a cold winters night to Lorraine and Bertram Watcher, settlers of the New York colony of the new world in 1750. Dysentery and famine swept the small thirteen colony nation. Despite the troubling times the industrial revolution was at an all time bloom. Bertram Watcher made a respectable living as a blacksmith and while Mrs. Watcher stayed at home and made sure Thaddeus was educated to the best of her abilities.


1775, Thaddeus's 25 year of life, brought with it revolution and the blood of red, the blue of truth, and the white of rebirth, the rebirth of a nation. "Those damn red coats have taken over this entire town. I've heard talk at the town meetings of rebellion." Bertram Watcher grumbled as he tucked himself into their rickety wooden table, a bowl of steaming stew in front of him. "It's about time father. They can't continue to tax us without proper representation. And they can't abuse our lodgings to keep us under Britain's rule." Thaddeus cried, his hand thumping onto the surface of the table as bits of soup landed about his place setting. "No talk of revolution at the table, now eat your stew the both of you." Lorraine commanded as she set her own bowl at the remaining seat, however war weighed heavily on both son and father's minds.


"Hold the line! All of you hold the line!" Commander Prescott yelled, bayonet held aloft as he rode against the front ranks of the American troops. June 17th 1775 found Thaddeus Watcher standing on Breed's Hill, his own bayonet leaning against his right shoulder. Seas of red stood before him, coats and rivers of blood alike. "Charge!" the commander yelled, and instinct took over young Thaddeus. Time slowed down as he watched the events unfold before him. His ears took in the harsh panting of his breathes as his feet carried him down the hill. He saw gun smoke filter from fired barrels of guns, comrades and friends falling about his feet. In slow motion he watched as a bullet pierced his own flesh, the pain knocking him to his knees. 'I have to keep going. This is for freedom!' he roared past the initial shock of being shot. His shaking convulsing body drew it's self back onto it's feet as he continued down the hill. Another bullet found it's way into his shoulder, and yet he felt more powerful. Bullet after bullet found it's way into his body until they just started to bounce off of his body as if he were made of steel that his father use to mold into beautiful works of art. Faster and faster his body moved until he found his way directly into the thicket of enemy soldiers. The knife ends of the bayonets cracked themselves against his flesh, none being able to pierce his body.


As the smoke cleared from the battle field, all that was left standing in the middle of piles of bodies was one young Thaddeus Watcher, not a scratch on him. "The battle of Bunker Hill has been won. Send word to General Washington."


1830 found Thaddeus watcher alone in his family home in what was now Vermont. “It’s a bit weird don’t you think. That young mister Watcher has been there for years and yet I have never seen him age.” murmured Mrs. Jones to an equally gossipy Mrs. Brown. “I can remember being a little girl and him still just the same. It’s witch craft to me.” Brown replied as the continued down the street. Thaddeus bit down on a knuckle to keep from shouting out his displeasure at their speculation. ‘I have no idea why I am still here!’ he thought to himself as he thumped his body against the rough, weathered brick of his home, leaving the dent of his body in his wake, ‘It seems as though I have overstayed my welcome in these parts.’ Loathe to leave his childhood home behind, he packed what meager belongings he could carry and set out west. During his travels he stumbled upon the proud native race, forced to walk from their homes to the patch of land set for them by the United States government. “Commander, these people are in dire need of rest!” Thaddeus called as he urged his horse faster towards the front of the line. “I have detailed instruction to keep this line moving till we reach our destination. This is no of your mind good sir.” The commander sneered, a whip twitching menacingly in his right hand. ‘Is this what the world has fallen to? Death by any means necessary?’ he asked himself as he fought to rein in his anger. “I must insist that you stop and let them rest. Food and water wouldn’t be amiss as well.” Thad growled out, as his gaze took in the whip marks of a young mother holding a babe tight to her chest. “Now you listen here, I ain’t going to tell you one more time. Get out of here and let me do my job.” The commander hissed as he raised his whip to strike Thaddeus, and he saw red. He leaped from his horse and tackled the task master to the ground. With a few good punches the man lay bloodied and dead at his feet. Stricken with anguish he tossed what little food he had to the young mother and took off on his horse in the opposite direction.


1858 found Thad in a small town to the very west of the States. “Mr. Watcher, I would like to introduce you to Miss Dorothy Write. She is new to town. Miss Write this is our Sheriff Thaddeus Watcher.” Mayor Smith grinned as he gestured about between the two. “Thaddeus? What an unusual name.” Dorothy giggled behind her fan, right hand gloved in white silk held out in front of her in greeting. “It is a family name Miss Write. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Thaddeus replied with a kiss to her hand. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. Skin pale, and cheeks rosy and glowing in health. Her hair was curled and placed in an intricate pattern a top her head, the soft brown tresses shone against the harsh light of the California sun. Her eyes were deep and almond shape, her irises painted a glimmering hazel. High cheekbones highlighted a pert nose and plump lips. “I’m guessing you aren’t here for the gold rush, are you ma’am?” Thaddeus laughed as he tipped his hat to passing towns folk. Dorothy shook her head with a small smile, “Well welcome to our small humble town. Please feel free to call upon me for help at any time.”


1861 was the darkest time in United States history. Brother against brother, friend against friend in the fight to the death for freedom of fellow brethren. “Mrs. Dorothy Watcher, I need you let go of me. The train will be leaving soon.” Thaddeus laughed as his arms gently lifted her from the ground of their small home in Boston. “It is not I who won’t let go you silly husband of mine.” She laughed, the sound tinkling and light like bells. “I promise to return to you my love, you and our adorable baby girls.” He murmured with a kiss to the top of her head. “Where you goin’ Papa?” a young girl called, her brown curls flying behind her as she flew down the steps of the craftsman home, a doll clutched tightly in her hand. “President Lincoln is calling me to help our friends dear Mary. Don’t worry though, I will be back, I promise you.” He replied bending down to ruffle the small girl’s hair. His other daughter Elizabeth gurgled from her crib in the sitting room. He found his feet leading him to the bassinette, leaning down to place a tender kiss to the forehead of his youngest.


“I’ve heard stories of you Mr. Watcher. Going deep into enemy territory and returning without a single scratch. Able to run for miles without tiring. Strength to kill a man with a single punch of your hands. What are you?” General Grant hissed, circling the man in question, the smell of whiskey heavy on his breath. “I am a union soldier, sir.” Thaddeus answered his body tight at attention. “I don’t believe you.” Grant replied with narrowed steely eyes, “Whatever you are though, I am happy you are on our side.” The elder gentleman held out a hand of peace and Thaddeus accepted full heartedly.





“We will take that trench. Come on men, our job is to cross no man’s land!” General Thompson rasped out, his breath coming out in white tufts as he rubbed his hands to regain feeling in his frozen limbs. Every soldier was chilled to the bone while Thaddeus stood tall, scoping out the trench only a few yards ahead. “Letter’s boys. Come get your letters!” The delivery man hollered waving crisp off white envelopes in the air about him. “I bet I got a letter from my girl back home. How about you Watcher, you big stick in the mud, you got a girl back home?” Buck asked, fellow American soldier, his position relaxed as the letters were passed about. The year was 1915, and no longer could Thaddeus be the uncle or the cousin, or second cousin once removed to his great grandchildren. He was once more alone in the world, cursed to live and watch his beloved kin die of old age. “No Buck. I have no one back home waiting for me.” He answered, his gaze firmly set on the opposing forces like the perfect soldier he was. Falling into the position of a no name infantry men gave him the ability to be numb to the truth. Dorothy was gone. Everything he loved gone. World War 1 was said to be the war to end all wars. He hoped they were wrong. He couldn’t survive in this world without war.


“What year is it? Tell me, what year?” Thaddeus cried drunkenly, a bottle of what he assumed was whiskey in his hand as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling slightly. He placed a hand over his eyes as a guard against the bright head lights of the car in front of him. “Sir, are you all right? I am so sorry, I didn’t see you. You came out of nowhere. Are you hurt?” an older gentleman called as he rushed from his car to the Thaddeus’s side. “Yes I’m all right. I’m always all right and that’s the problem!” he roared as he weakly shuffled the elder man away from his staggering form. “Do you have a home I can take you to? Someone I can call?” the man asked once more, keeping his distance, his eyes all light with fear as the young man in front of him appeared unharmed after just being slammed into by his vehicle. “No, Dorothy is dead! Mary is dead! Little Elizabeth dead! Everyone is dead and gone and yet here I stand, immortal. I am so God damn tired!” Thaddeus screamed, bottle shattering against the ground as he fisted his dirty hands into his greasy unwashed hair. “Your drunk sir, and possibly concussed, let me take you to a hospital.” Thaddeus shook of the man once more and continued on his way, muttering to himself. “It’s 1942!” the older man called out before the mutant wandered down an alley way and disappeared.


“Check that bunker Watcher, make sure it’s clear of japs.” Commander Winters hollered, his voice almost obscured by the constant shelling of both Japanese and American machine guns and mortars. The constant heat and lack of food and water wore down the marines stationed on Okinawa in 1945 during their two month long campaign. Everyone except Thaddeus. With each bullet that bounced off his body he grew stronger and angrier. Each kill by his gun or hand sated the guilt and hopelessness that had taken residence in his black heart. “It’s clear Captain!” Thaddeus called back as he stuck his ka-bar knife into the throat of an enemy soldier. “Look it’s the golden boy. How are you still capable of breathing? I swear I saw you just get stabbed.” Scoffed Corporal Burgin, eyes narrowed against the sun. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Corporal, but I suggest you watch your tone. I am your superior officer and I expect to be treated with respect.” Thaddeus growled in return. “I bet you are one of those mutants people have been speculating all around the states.” The corporal hissed. “One more word out of you Burgie and I will have you sent on the front lines, or worse, as a stretcher bearer.” And with that said everyone went quiet as they continued down the road through the passing huts that housed many natives of the pacific island. His eyes fell on a dirty girl, tears falling from her eyes clutching a straw doll in her hand. His mind reeled until the pacific island girl vanished and replaced with the sweet smiling face of his daughter Mary. “Everyone down, down, down! There’s bomb!” And the Mary illusion vanished behind a ball of flames.


So many years of death and goodbyes. Famine, genocide, war. Sadness and hate. Thaddeus just couldn’t take it any longer. He just wanted to sit and decompose, deteriorate, decay on the side of the road in the middle of Baltimore, Maryland. Like a living statue. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel anymore. For years he lived his life as a nomad, working odd jobs here and there for drink and lodgings, until nuclear bombs went off around the world in 1962, leaving the city, no, the world as a former hollow shell of itself. Power and energy was absorbed into his very being. His body felt strength like he never knew. Too much kinetic energy was invading his meager human system. A painful scream fell from his mouth as he tucked into himself and withered on the floor. Everything went dark.


“Help me, please! They are after me!” a young woman cried as she ran full speed at Thaddeus’s strong frame. “Who is after you?” he asked, steadying the shaking girl with a feather light touch to her shoulders. Her face was covered in interesting tattoos resembling symbols. “Are you a mutant too?” she asked, relief flooding through her body until a pack of blood curdling screams filled the air. “What is a mutant? And what was that?” he replied, his eyes wide he pushed the girl behind his own body in an instinctive protective gesture. “Those are the degenerates. They are crazed killers. They emerged after the bombs. They aren’t human anymore!” she cried, tears falling down her face as her hands clutched her ears. “Follow me, I’ll get you to safety. That I swear.” And just like that, Thaddeus found himself lone hero and leader of the rebels against Shaw and his minions and the degenerate forces.

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Theme Song: Get Thee Behind Me Satan -Jonny Greenwood ft. Ella Fitzgerald

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[Esoteric Truth]

WIP


Gunnar Anson//26//Pansexual


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_06/tumblr_mgwwhcaH9R1qlczg1o1_500.jpg.1b1bff286df6652b69f7bde68a051fef.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="20303" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_06/tumblr_mgwwhcaH9R1qlczg1o1_500.jpg.1b1bff286df6652b69f7bde68a051fef.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>


Power Mimicry//Blood and Memories


Gunnar can replicate someone's power. Their powers become his, as well as some memories, which can be both a blessing and a curse. He has to touch someone in order to replicate their power, however, and even then it only lasts for a few hours at most. If he touches their blood, however, it can last roughly twelve hours and if he actually ingests their blood it lasts a full day. This makes it very difficult for him to procure powers. Because he has taken powers so many times in the past, his own memories have been muddled and confused with that of the power owners'. Rooting from the fact that he has to ingest the blood of someone to take their power for an extended period of time, he has developed the belief that if he eats the heart of someone he will obtain their power forever.

Personality


There is a difference between an angry dog and one that is just... off. The former froths at the mouth with his fury, his eyes blaze with viciousness and he seeks revenge to what has been done to him. The second is calm and dead-eyed without remorse or apology and it is rare that he is the one that bad things are happening to; he is more likely to be causing them. Gunnar is the second dog.


Gunnar does not do what he does because he gets off on watching others go through pain. His power does not hold control of him and make him feel helpless and forced to feed on blood. Every time he ingests blood it is a conscious decision and one that he is all too willing to make. The ability to become whatever he wants is his power and he does not intend to live his life trying to hide from the gift he was given, no matter how dark the problems that come along with it are.


Memories contain emotions and, as far as he is concerned, he can remember living multiple lifetimes. As a result certain strong residual emotions, particularly patterns that are repeated throughout multiple memories, imprint on him. One such example is his sexuality. He has felt love from all sorts of people to all sorts of people. He can go any which way, though he tends to gravitate towards women in a physical sense, though he much prefers the mentality of a man.


Although certain parts of him such as his sexuality are as a result of his memories, his actual personality is mostly his own. Gunnar is intelligent with a cynical outlook on society as a whole. He is generally on edge and can at times be unpredictable and dangerous. There are times when he absolutely despises himself and physically cannot deal with his emotions. When he gets into this dark mindset it is best to steer clear of him, for the slightest thing could set him off.


Bio


Gunnar's memories are all jumbled with that of other people and quite a few of them, as he has been doing this since he was very young. There are a few things he can remember for certain, however. He can remember that he was born in Baltimore and that his name was Gunnar. He remembers that he had a mother named Francesca and a father named William. William had brown hair. Francesca did too. There was also a brother named Ryan. They had all been so positively ordinary. It was strange to think that he had come from such terrifically mundane beginnings.


When he was young it was very vague, but he'd always had it. His power had, starting off, manifested in what had been first thought to be mind reading. By holding certain people's hands (those certain people being mutants) he was able to recall what had been eaten for lunch and he would notice that he got a different side affect each time. He couldn't remember how, but at some point he found out that it was because he was getting the power of someone and their memories were a side affect, not the other way around.


Though the very early parts of his life and the recent past remain clear to Gunnar, the rest of his life is one muddled mess of scrambled memories and feelings. As a youth, for example, he became forced onto the streets without his parents.This is one of his few clear memories that he knows is his because he can recall looking into the windows of shops and watching his sunken eyes look right back at him. He remembers them being afraid of him and slamming the door in his face, leaving him with nothing but a bag full of clothes and a twenty dollar bill to his name. He remembers coming home from camp and finding them gone without a trace, a newly-staked sold sign stuck deep in the vivid grass of his front lawn. He remembers hiding underneath his bed as strangers tore them apart, their lifeless carcasses falling to the floor in front of him. He remembers killing them himself, their blood a wash over his face and hands and clothes. What he cannot remember, however, is which one of those scenarios is his own memory and which is someone else's. Sometimes to him this doesn't matter. The fact is this happened to someone, and thus the anger he feels is justified, even if it is coming from the wrong person.





Theme Song (for fun)


Zero - The Smashing Pumpkins

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[BarkWolfBacon]

Character Skeleton:

Solomon “Sol” Chambers//33//Heterosexual


Appearance:

Sublimation & Elemental Transmutation(alchemy)//Completely Mortal-Sense of Duty


Personality:


“All it takes for evil to succeed…”


Fiercely loyal to his friends and allies- Solomon is a man of strong convictions. Always the loyal follower, Solomon knows he is a terrible leader and so chooses not to be one. He believes very adamantly in the difference between good and evil, although this belief has caused him to become cynical over the years as he become more and more aware of the natural evils of man (and of mutants). He is charismatic and quick to make friends. Sol’s powers developed in his college years during a tragedy that changed his life.


Solomon had an uneven but bright childhood. He was smart, and excelled in school (except math). His investigative background makes him a great problem solver, and his exposure to years of man and mutant’s worst makes him hard to emotionally destabilize.


The Bureaus training left proficient with handguns and systems related technology.

​

Bio

“…Is for a good man to do nothing”


One could say Sol was blessed in his life as an orphan. He had was adopted young and into a beautiful home with a loving family. The Chambers were a successful couple, unable to have kids on their own, and treated Solomon with nothing but love and care. He graduated high school in the top 100 of his class, and despite the bad economy and growing threat of super powered criminals running around he was optimistic about his future. He left for college full of hope and unsure of what exactly he wanted to do for a career.


But during his freshman year tragedy struck. His loving adopted parents were killed in a grisly murder that remained unsolved all of Solomon’s life. The only thing clear about their deaths was that it had been a mutant that had murdered them. Whoever had killed them had simply kicked the front door down, frozen them from the inside out- shattering the internal organs like glass- and then left.


The only family that Solomon had ever had was taken from him. In a rage he drove to drinking and nearly got himself expelled from college. He was angry at God, angry at the world, but most of all he was angry at mutants.


Then his X-gene activated.


Solomon couldn’t control his sudden abilities at all, and when unfocused objects he touched would change their elemental makeup. The four alchemical elements became one another randomly at his touch. And to make it worse, he couldn’t seem to hold on to his own form either anymore. Suddenly he would turn into a dark cloud. Whether it was smoke, vapor, or gas Solomon didn’t know- but he would randomly find himself significantly less solid. He hated himself for being like his parent’s killer- and struggled with the identity he had built for himself. Did this make him someone different than the man he wanted to be?


With all the mutant fear going on at the time he struggled leaving his dorm room and eventually was able to control them enough to function semi-normally.


He apparently wasn’t as discrete with his new found powers as he thought, because one day the FBI came knocking on his dorm room door. They had a deal for him. They were developing a new program, a generation of mutant Agents who would work cases involving other mutants. Given the circumstances in which his parents died the Bureau believed him to be a strong candidate.


They were right.


Sol believed firmly in what the Agency was trying to do. In many instances the average human law enforcement officer was nothing but cannon fodder to a mutant criminal. He could do what others could not, and he would use that skill to help, to make sure he never ended up like the mutants he hunted.


They paid for his education, and after he graduated college he went to Quantico, one of the youngest agents they had ever sworn in. His Sublimation allowed a degree of stealth and infiltration few other agents could achieve, and once he learned to control his “Alchemy” he was a powerful force to be reckoned with.


Sol was good at what he did, and enjoyed it. In the back of his mind however, he always hoped that one day the mutant who killed his parents would resurface- so that Sol could hunt him down. The mutant never showed though, but that didn’t stop Solomon from enjoying his job for 2 years before Shaw’s plan succeeded.


The Agency had been eyeballing Shaw for years, curious about his corporate holdings and strange activities. Sol wasn’t part of the investigation, but heard rumors in Quantico.


They were confirmed when Shaw’s plan succeeded.


Nuclear annihilation left all but a few normal humans obliterated. The remaining mutants were scattered and warring. Suddenly Solomon was a lawman in a lawless world. Eventually word reached him of a rebel group in Baltimore- a force fighting the degenerates and Shaw’s power. Slowly, Sol began fighting his way through Maryland to find them.


He needed a cause. Hopefully they needed one more man.


Mutant and Proud


Rebel Forever


Theme Song (for fun)


“Knocking on Heaven’s Door” Bob Dylan

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[crystaldee]

Lyre Scarce//25//Heterosexual



APPEARANCE

Power(s): Clairvoyance-Telepathy//Weakness: Mental stability



Lyre has the power of clairvoyance; the ability to foresee things, and understand things using another sense completely. Usually, just by touch, Lyre can learn much about a person or thing and is often overcome by unexpected visions. The girl's powers also causes her to be continuously bombarded with the thoughts and lives of other people, so much so that sometimes her own thoughts leave her, as another's thoughts occupy her mind and she mimics whatever they are doing. Lyre is warned of such event occurring as when her mind begins to waver, her body shakes uncontrollably, similar to the ways of a seizure. When stable, the young lady has the ability to manipulate other's thoughts, allowing her to change memories, control actions, and communicate mentally with the subject. Occasionally, her clairvoyance guides her with future visions.

Personality



When the head's of others are constantly filling your own, it's no wonder Lyre has a hard time keeping a hold on her own reality. She suffers from something the doctors would call Dissociative identity disorder, but that is far from the true diagnosis of Lyre's mind. Her so called multiple personalities are a result of the weak hold her body has with her mind. When she is in control of herself, though, she is a very strong-willed women.


She does not care much for soft souls, and finds an attraction with others who are strong-willed and willing to take risks. She is quick to rid herself of people she finds to be no of use to her, or who will simply drag down a team. She enjoys her powers, when they are in her control, but hates the fact that sometimes her entire existence is stolen from her. Lyre is swift with a gun, knife, and even fists, but her abilities make it just as easy to force someone to kill themselves; something she has not stopped herself from doing before. Her motives are almost always 100% selfish because she has learnt to live for herself and no one else.

Bio



Lyre's powers began to manifest from such a young age that she has no recollection of ever being without them. From age four, she was telling her parents all about the 'voices' that bounced around in her head all day. At the age of six, she began mimicking the behaviours of other children in her school class. Age ten was about the time the seizures started to occur and the visions too. Young Lyre's body would shake uncontrollably and her eyes would roll back into her head.


"My child is a monster!" Her mother would cry. Her mind already unstable due to the departure of Lyre's father, and a miscarriage shortly after, she could not deal with the stress of the mishaps.


12 year-old Lyre was thrown into a Foster home where everyday, the workers would be just as distressed by her insane episodes. The other children didn't interact with her and the employees rarely gave her the care she needed. Lyre remained distant from human interaction for five years while she got her head around the abilities laid out infront on her. She spent days controlling the actions of one particular person; just stretching the lengths of her power. She felt content where she was, until her first vision of the future was thrown at her.


The vision turned her world upside. The sky became dark, where there was once light. The small cafeteria room that had become her haven, turned into rubble. There were people screaming; their voices so piercing that Lyre felt as though her ears might bleed. There was destruction and so much horror. The thoughts of traumatised individuals filled her brain. There was so much pain. Death. Dead. Dying.


When her eyes returned to reality, the scene infront of her had altered completely. It was as though the feelings of the vision had manifested in her day to day life. Two of the workers lay on the floor, as dead as the corpses she had seen laying in the rubble. One girl lay with a knife in her hand, while another had smashed his head open on the kitchen countertop. The children were crying.


That was the day Lyre Scarce decided she would fend for herself. Innocent people didn't deserve to get screwed over. Her powers could hurt. Could kill. And most of it, was not even under her control. She left for the ghettos of the cities; the hells; the crime ridden streets and allowed herself to destroy whatever and whomever she deemed necessary, for she believed in the end, she had no real control over her actions. She became a criminal herself, stealing from cashiers, banks, and unfortunate people taking a short cut home, just to stay alive herself. There was never much effort needed, as all it took was a quick persuasion to their brains, and she gained an instant stack of cash. When the nuclear destruction killed most of the population, Lyre felt as though nothing in her life had changed. She still wandered through the same streets, only now with less people, and crumpled buildings. Degenerates would attack her constantly, but it was easy to take over their unstable minds, and cause them to impale themselves on a fallen lamp post.


It wasn't until Lyre was walking solemnly one afternoon that the realisation hit; she was standing in the vision of her twelfth year. The city around her was black. Only now, the sadness felt normal, the pain was usual, and the dead bodies around her an accustomed sight. The realisation struck her so profoundly that she realised what a mess she had become. She started to wander, farther than her legs had ever taken her before, to new streets, and new cities, before she began to find people again. Before she began to find the rebels.

Theme Song (for fun)




"She's Thunderstorms

" .. Arctic Monkeys

Mutant and Proud


Rebel Forever

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[Wrath Of Athena]

(Okay, time to try again)

Kate Vincent//29//Heterosexual


Appearance

Accelerated Healing, Superhuman Strength//Electricity


Personality


She is arrogant and cocky, but knows that she is not completely invincible. She is not particularly loyal to her friends, but more loyal to whatever cause she serves. In this case, she fights against Shaw and his minions. She does whatever is necessary for the greater good, no matter who or what must be sacrificed. She sometimes regrets the things she does, despite knowing that it had to be done. After Shaw's plan, she became self-sufficient, trusting no one.


Bio


She grew up an outcast, shunned by everyone, just because she had powers. Unlike others, she grew up not hating or resenting the humans, but pitying them. She knew that they were just afraid. She did her best to protect them from the crazed extremist mutants. Then Shaw came along. No one expected his plan to succeed, least of all her. She blames herself for his plan succeeding. She thinks there must have been something she could have done to prevent it. Something she could have done better. No matter what her role in it was in the world going to shit, she was going to to her damn best to fix it. And, if it couldn't be fixed, then she was going to kill the bastard who started it all.


Theme Song (for fun)


Hm... Can't really think of one


Rebel Forever


Mutant and Proud


(Please forgive me if it sucks, I'm pretty new to RP)

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