The Society [Inactive]

[Alivia]

Character Sheet


Name:


Age:


Gender:


Nickname(s):


Brief Background:


Personality:


Likes:


Dislikes:


Hobbies/Interests:*


Appearance:


Theme Song(s):*


Misc. Info:


Password:


* = Optional


-------------------------


Name:


Nathaniel Reacher





Age:


Eighteen


Gender:


Male





Nickname(s):


Nathan, Nate


Brief Background:


He was born into the Society, not knowing whom his parents were. He was trained, disciplined, and taught everything he needed to know. How to kill, how to use different weapons and different techniques. He was beaten when he disobeyed. He was rewarded when he obeyed with books to study. He was taught the basics of how to read, but nothing more. He only needed to learn how to kill, and how to do so without a mess. He didn't spend time with anyone his age, and was frequently put into different tests that could improve his reasoning and skills. He spent most of his days with his mentor, who had taught him everything he knows. He studied, fought, and trained for his whole life, and had become familiar with different weapons at a young age.


Personality:


Nathan was always silent. Silent, mysterious, and unreadable. He was a Nobody, after all. He was obedient, didn't ask too many questions, and was always seeking to please those who had taken care of him, those who had trained him to be what he was. A killer. He was rather cold, taught to push away any feeling of emotion. He was heartless, distant. He just didn't care. He only wanted to obey. He was loyal, selfless, and never doubted. Never had fear. He was fearless. No compassion dwells inside of him. No desire was felt. He was single-minded most of the time, didn't backtalk, and didn't question the Society. Nathaniel was numb. Empty. Nobody.


He didn't sleep much. He couldn't. He just stayed in his room half the night, sitting upright with tense shoulders, staring at the door, waiting to be given a next order. Waiting to be told to kill a next Null. To kill another soulless monster. He didn't particularly enjoy doing anything that didn't involve a gun or a knife. He loved the adrenaline rush the training brought. He didn't ever get angry with the Society. Not even when they beat him with a whip, with his mentor's fists. No, he didn't. He did what he was told, and didn't resist them. He never would have dreamed of turning his back on them. If only he knew...


Likes:


+ Guns


+ Knives


+ Adrenaline


+ Training


+ Silence


+ Shooting


Dislikes:


- Winter


- Sleeping


- Dreams


- Needles


- Failing


Hobbies/Interests:


Shooting


Archery


Throwing Knives


Sniping


Studying


Appearance:

Spoiler

Theme Song(s):





Ready Aim Fire by Imagine Dragons


Skyfall by Adele


Misc. Info:


Has scars on his back from whippings and beatings.

 

[Elixir]

Name:


August Hazel Merryweather


Age:


Seventeen with a birthday coming within the upcoming months


Gender:


Female


Nickname(s):


Ast


Brief Background:


Ast was born to parents Jonathan and Victoria Merryweather nearly two decades ago (minus a little more than two years). Despite being an only child, she received most of her attention from only her mother; her dad tended to take unexplained leaves from the house and spent a great deal of time in the basement. As the years went by and she developed further mentally, August started picking up details about her father's actions that she didn't find particularly normal. One night, after waking up to grab a drink of water from the kitchen, she heard her father's gravelly voice on the telephone talking to someone about wicked, unspeakable things. Scared, she had retreated back to her bedroom without getting a drink. From overhearing the conversation, August knows basic information about Nulls, Normals, and Nobodies.


Personality:


Commenting that August has a cynical nature is like saying the sky is blue or the sun is hot. It's just.. her. The skepticism is one of her defining characteristics. It doesn't seem to stem from anywhere in particular — no event triggered the development of the attribute — but it becomes apparent in her body language and in the way she phrases her words. She's quite hard to read expression-wise because her facial features tend to communicate more than one emotion at a time, thus leading to some confusion. Ast has a thing with eye-contact; she will typically lock gazes with someone when engaged in conversation. She has a talent for fibbing which she uses to her advantage; she knows she's skilled at the art of lying and is confident in her ability, so she maintains the eye-contact and can pull off telling a falsehood without giving any signs that she is doing so. This is probably intertwined with the persuasiveness that can commonly be found in her idiosyncrasy. Because she can get away with not telling the truth, she can be very convincing. She can sometimes prompt in a good way as well instead of just the aforementioned one that's linked to her falsities. If someone was going to go head first into something precarious, she might be able to get them to realize that they need to think things through. She can, in addition, be as fiery as her hair when provoked.


Likes:


+ Chamomile tea


+ Pretty little wind-up music boxes


+ Springtime


+ Rosewater


+ Fire


+ Rain & thunderstorms


Dislikes:


+ Surprises


+ Being touched by strangers


+ Nightmares


+ Sly smirks


Misc. Info:


+ August is an adroit liar; alongside this, she can act very well and fake emotions with ease.


Appearance:


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[Alivia]

October 12th, 2015

​

Reflexively, he sat upright in his bed as the door opened quietly, but loud enough for him to hear. He was taught to awaken within seconds. He was trained to sleep lightly, something that would never wear away with time. Nathan hadn't been sleeping. He never really did. He only pretended to do so for the benefit of his mentor, Charles. Charles wasn't a Normal. He was a Nobody. The only Normal that could see Nobodies. The only Normal that had been born with a special ability to see Nobodies the Society told him about. Charles wasn't nice. He wasn't ruthless, he wasn't friendly. He was... neutral. He was his mentor. He instructed him different drills, taught him how to shoot, and kept him in shape. Charles, in a strange way, was the closest person he'd ever gotten to. Charles knew when to leave him alone. He knew when he was ready for a mission. He knew when to hand Nathaniel another file. Another job to do. Charles knew his limits, his potential. His potential to kill. He was his trainer.


Charles had always been mysterious. He didn't ever speak of his past. How he'd come to be with the Society. He was a mirror of Nathaniel, he realized. He was once a killer, too, because, of course, he was the one teaching everything he knew to the young golden haired boy. He had experience, and he knew what he was talking about. Nathan didn't ask him about his childhood. About anything, really. He was taught to never ask questions. When he was a little boy, he was slapped on the cheek when he asked questions. They had told him questions were harmful. Questions were dangerous. They disciplined him until he didn't even have doubt in his mind. They, literally, beat the questions and doubt out of him. And he's learned his lesson. Keep his mouth shut, his head down, and do as he was told, and that was it. That was his life's purpose. To please the Society. To do as he was told. Never question, never doubt. It was apart of him.


Nathan could see through the blinding light Charles's shadowed outline. His striking, black hair, his bright blue eyes that shone, his careful, scarred hands. They could have been hands to an artist's. Long, slender. All they needed was a paintbrush. But they weren't artist's hands. They were the hands of a killer. White scars traced his hand, his fingers. They were far from artist's hands. And Nathan's were the same. Scarred, angry looking, rough. Charles was older, of course. Probably in his mid thirties, maybe a bit older. He was tall, built, but pale. Nathan, on the other hand, was tall himself, fit with lean muscles, tousled blonde hair, dark green eyes, and olive tan skin. Polar opposites, but still the same. One Nobody, One Normal, two killers, and looked different. He remembered he once, when he was almost five years old, asked Charles who his parents were, and where they were. Charles, in answer, slapped him hard, knocking his little body to the ground. He never asked again.


Oddly, he didn't hate Charles. Given the amount of times he's slapped Nathaniel, beaten him, and whipped him for punishment, one would think he would have hated him. But he didn't. He simply viewed Charles as a teacher. A mentor. And he was, he was a mentor to him. He taught him everything he knew; different weapons, hand-to-hand combat styles. Everything he knew was learned from his mentor. His mentor taught him to feel nothing, taught him that he was nothing. He was Nobody. He was just a tool for the Society, and no one would ever care for him. His mentor drilled these thoughts into his mind from a young age, and he accepted them without hesitation, as if this was the only truth. This was the only way. And it was. It was the only way for someone like Nathaniel; a Nobody, a killer, a tool. He was nothing. He was less then air, less then shadow, as his mentor told him, over and over. Less then air, less then shadow.


Charles walked towards him, his arm extending to his body, gripping his arm. Nathaniel, blinking, followed along as his mentor dragged him painfully by the arm, his grip tight and strong. He didn't speak, but continued to lead him out of the white washed room, and into the Training Room he'd grown to know as his only home. The Training Room was large, open and filled with a range of weapons hung on the white walls; from modern weapons to swords and knives and bows. Charles stopped in the middle of the Training Room, dropping Nathaniel to the floor with a forceful shove. Nathaniel, looking up at his mentor, didn't ask anything. Clearly, the man was doing something, because, after all, everything Charles did, was to teach him. To train him. He remained flat on the ground, his green eyes focused on his trainer as he made his way to the wall of weapons. Charles's blue eyes scanned through the weapons, and once he's made his selection, he reached for it and took hold of it.


It was the smallest of syringes. It was, however, considered a weapon. It could be used to take out an eye, if the situation demanded for it. It could be used to kill his target without a trace, make it appear of natural causes. His first kill had been when he was twelve years old. They told him to kill a Null; the U.S. Senator. They handed him a detailed file. He read and studied until he knew his target well enough, and then they dropped him off. He walked into the small mansion, and injected his target with a deadly disease that would kill him in a hour. One hour to live. Of course, that had been a old school way to kill without being caught. Now, they were engineering new poisons, more ways of killing. Different ways of killing a man without so much as a trail left behind. Nathaniel could only assume this was a new injection they developed. And they wanted him to test it; he was their puppet. Their lab rat.


"This is Null-2," Charles spoke clearly, voice without emotion as he held up the syringe. "You may recall you have used Null-1 in the past on Mark Skyes." Mark Skyes. The Senator. The one he had killed. The first one he had killed. Nathaniel nodded without much thought. "Null-1 was defective. It took too long." It took to long. It took too long to die. Nathan stared blankly at his mentor, waiting for him to continue. "Our scientists have developed a new lethal injection called Null-2. Null-2. Once in the target's bloodstream, it takes under three minutes. Three minutes to die. The authorities will classify it as a heart attack or a stroke." Three minutes. In three minutes, his target could die with one injection. One injection, three minutes. One death. Lives saved, in the process. Lives saved from the Monster. From the Null. Nathaniel nodded.

----------

​

After training was over, which had lasted more then a few hours, Nathaniel was shoved back into his room. After, the door was opened minutes later, a hand with a file held in it reaching in, dropping it on the floor, and then quickly shutting the door. As if he was a dangerous, caged animal. He didn't think twice about the gesture. He sat upright from his white bed, and reached down for the file. Wait, there was more then one file. There was three, this time. Nate sat on the edge of his uncomfortable bed, and poured himself into the files. Jonathan Merryweather. Victoria Merryweather. August Hazel Merryweather. All marked with a chilling ink stamp; Code Omega. Code Omega was only reserved for the most wicked of Nulls. The ones that killed and couldn't stop themselves. Code Omega was a warning; don't get too close, take them out long distance. Preferably with a gun.


Nathaniel had only encountered a few Code Omega Nulls. They were the most brutal, heartless and cold monsters he's ever seen. They had bodies chained in their basements. Tortured for fun. Burned people alive just for the heck of it. They were monsters of men. And he assumed this family was no different. But what was rather peculiar was, this Null had a daughter. He's never ever been able to think a Null could marry and raise a daughter. No, something wasn't right. There was no way a monster could just settle down as easily as that. Monsters didn't raise children. They tortured them. They killed them. Trying to make sense of this, he reread their files, over and over until he knew all of them inside and out. Their birth dates, their jobs, their known acquaintances. Everything.


August was a Null. And so was her father. But, her mother, however, was a Normal. But still posed a threat. Orders were to kill all three of them at an distance, with a gun of some sorts. Code Omega calls. Nathaniel returned their files, didn't ask any questions, and began getting ready for his mission. Three to kill. Two monsters. One Normal who shouldn't be with monsters. Three bullets. It was all he'd need. He geared up, all in black, making his golden hair and green eyes stand out. He strapped on some knives, in case hand-to-hand combat was necessary, a lethal injection Charles had trained him with hours ago, and a few more weapons he was trained with. Then came the guns. He had a wide selection, but he always preferred the AS50. He reloaded it, brought some ammo, and then he was done. He was ready. Grabbing the files, he was lead outside of the Society's underground facility he grew up in.


The house was fairly large, but average. The lawn was perfectly cut, perfectly green. The house, too, was perfect. White, and not a spot of age or a sign of decaying. Their car was a Lexus, and they even had two garages. To say the least, they had it good. What has these Nulls, these heartless monsters, done to acquire enough money for this? What did they do? He shuddered. God knows what the Null has done to get money. Murder. Rob. Anything to get enough cash to raise his... daughter. His Null daughter. That's what the Society had told them. They said she was a Null along with her father, and her mother was just unfortunate to get caught up with the monsters. It was a shame she'd have to die, too. All of them had to die. He had to put them out of their misery. To put others out of misery. To save lives the monster would take. They always did. They always killed. In the end, it was what they did.


Nathaniel was resting on the hilltop north of the house. He could see the large kitchen through the window he'd be shooting through. Outside of the kitchen was the backyard. A garden of vegetables and fruits was lined up. Green leaves, brown dirt. He'd once studied plants in his youth. He'd been taught how to use them for medical uses if he ever was somehow stuck in the woods. They had taught him what berries to eat, and what not to eat. They taught him everything they could, and then they stopped. Of course, he still remembered the studies he spent most of his nights up. He still remembered the training. He could easily spot the different plants in the garden. One of the plants had been poisonous. He knew with skill, one could extract the poison from the stem. What did they do with it? Did they use it to weaken their victims? To kill them, perhaps? Possibly. The odds were in their favor for that.


He was flat on his stomach, the grass tickling his arms. He had his sniper rifle positioned, resting against the hill's terrain, scoped in. He had it loaded; three bullets. He didn't need anymore. He was trained to never miss. He couldn't fail. He could take them all out before they even knew what hit them. He could do it. He had to. He had to do it to please the Society. To please Charles, his mentor. His trainer. The backyard's door opened. He held his breath as he shut his other eye, focusing on the girl, August, who was now tending to the garden. She was pretty. But a monster. That's what monsters did; they were manipulative. They seemed charming. They seemed nice enough. But they never were. He once had seen a Null, merely a teenager, torturing her victim, and the worst part of it all; she had been smiling. Shaking all thoughts away, he focused in on his target, easily rested his finger on the trigger and gently squeezed... then she screamed.


She was looking directly at him. He fired, and had missed, taken aback by the loud, shrieking scream. The bullet traveled clean into the window beside her, shattering it. His heart pounding, he stood up, the rifle against his chest, his hands gripping it until his knuckles white. How the hell was she seeing him? Nulls and Normals weren't supposed to see him. No, no one could. No one but Charles. Charles was the only Normal recorded to be able to see Nobodies, which made him perfect to train Nathaniel. But this, this was different. She was a Null. She had to be. He read it in the file. She had the Code Omega stamped onto her file, red and bold. She was a monster. She was the daughter of a monster. Why could she see him? He, blinking in mild surprise, took his weapon, hopped over the garden's fence with ease, and, despite orders to stay away, moved closer to her, his rifled aimed at her.


"Shut the hell up," he hissed, close enough to grab her. Nulls didn't scream. Nulls didn't see Nobodies. Nulls weren't supposed to feel fear. He remembered once, he met a Null, a little boy, and he had been acting. She had to be an actress. The scream must have been for show, to distract him. To make him miss. Yeah, that had to be it. It made sense. Whatever she was acting, she wasn't feeling. Monsters didn't feel anything. Not fear, not anger, not love. Nothing. They were empty shells, monsters. Nathaniel, still gripping the rifle, grabbed her arm forcefully with his other hand, his grip strong. The Society had lied. They told him no one should be able to see him. No one but Charles. They lied to him. And now, he wanted to find out why. Why she could see him. Why they had lied. Part of him wanted to believe they just had made a mistake, a error. But he knew the Society. They never made any errors. Never.


"How can you see me?" he asked without emotion as he dragged her into the forest, the house well beyond sight. He had missed. He had failed. He never failed. Ever. But he had. And it was because of this Null, this thing, had screamed. And he missed. And now, he was dragging her out into the forest to question her. To ask her what she had done, whom she was hurting. Whom she had killed. Then he'd question her about her father. Then he'd go back, kill both parents, and then kill her. Simple. He couldn't go back to the Society without two dead monsters and one dead Normal. No, he couldn't go back as a failure. But the question, since when did he ever question?, kept surfacing. Why had they lied? Why? He'd done everything for them. He'd done everything they asked without question. He'd tried to please them. But they still lied to him. And now he felt... hurt. Betrayed. Anger boiled in him. Since when did he feel anything?


Nathaniel hid what he felt. He pushed the feelings aside. Now wasn't the time to start going soft. No. He refused to. Charles had taught him to feel nothing. To be nothing. He was Nobody. Nobodies weren't supposed to feel anything. Nobodies killed, and they did as they were told. They couldn't love. To love is to destroy, Charles had taught him. Love wasn't for people like him. No, no feeling was for people like him. He obeyed. He did as he was told. That was his purpose. But what if the Society had been lying to him this whole time? What other lies have they told him? Pushing the thought out, he reached the cabin. He had once woken up in the cabin when he was seven. It had been a test. They left him in the forest for a whole week to survive on his own. He passed the test, too. Opening the wooden door, he shoved her inside, slamming the door behind him. He pointed the rifle towards her, his finger ready on the trigger. "You better start talking, Null," he spat the name with disgust. What if she wasn't a Null? No, that couldn't be. She had to be a Null. Had to.

 

[Alivia]

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