Cold blue eyes sliced through the night air of the Pale Moors. After her wandering around in the Nexus for over a couple of hours, she had finally found her way to the murky gate of the Moors, and dared to step inside. Icy wind whipped at her skin. She grimaced against it, as she exhaled a breath of steam.

Her mind flickered back to the blank canvas of the Nexus. Mornel, Ginas-or Marko rather... They had delivered a half-heard message to the freshly instated Prime, Christa was now following up on that. Her white teeth sparkled in the pale moonlight, while she thought bitterly back to the parting of her sister, she ruefully wished she could be with her now, but old debts had to be paid, and as promised, Christa was here.

Ever since Christa had been reunited with her sister, the doubts, fears, and pain that had veiled her personality had been abolished... For the most part. If ever in dire straights, Christa herself knew she could ‘channel’ them once more, a survivor only learns to be one once, after all. And of course, ironically enough now that she was a Prime, old habits, die hard. Plenty had happened in the Vasty Deep, but mainly, Christa had left feeling positive. That feeling, had turned to butter in her stomach, and oozed with worry once more. But Katia was no warrior, and Christa certainly couldn’t bring her kid sister on missions that could cost people their lives. No, Christa wanted Katia safe, and there she would remain.

Still, branches of doubt found themselves nagging in the woman’s mind as she worked on summoning some gear to battle the cold; a sniper’s fingers were no good cold. The woman had great aim, and an even better set of eyes, which swept the darkness now. She never had needed night-vision goggles, and instead, relied on a sense she got in her gut. Since she had become a prime, however, parts of that feeling had dissipated, I guess I’ll just have to earn it back. She told herself and moved on, her pistol comfortably hugged the side of her hip and Christa had a few knives up her sleeve, literally.

Large, heavy boots descended on the crisp, frost-covered ground and made crackling noises, similar to that of a fire. She blinked away the cold some more, and her long legs propelled her forward. She didn’t much like missions like this, going out into the blue, not knowing what to expect, she liked to be briefed with intel, so she could arm herself with the right kinds of tools. Though, Christa guessed as a Prime, one could always summon them, but in the heat of the moment, you were lucky to have three safe seconds not to mention minutes. The sniper planned to go to Darkshire, to see an old friend, and to speak to someone, hopefully, about what Marko had told her before he died in her arms at the Nexus.

As Christa had seen, or rather perhaps, learned, not everyone could be saved. Nor were they meant to be. Martha re-married and had children of her own with her new husband, immortality was a blessing and a curse, but Omni’s version of it was just plain hell. How was she supposed to know how to help these people? She couldn’t very well bring everyone who had ever died back to life, and then, even if she could, what would the meaning be? No, instead, she would prevent as many bastards from dying as she could, and hopefully, just hopefully, her sacrifice would mean something when she would have to die for the final time.

...

The air bit at her nose, and caused a continuous squint to dwell on her face. It was a truly frigid night, she had bundled in a had, gloves, and scarf, all piled atop her usual garb, which was composed of the kind of things she used to wear, combat pants, a tank, and a her boots. Now, she had added the accessories, as well as a nice-looking black leather jacket. It didn’t suit the person she wanted to be around her sister, not in the slightest, however, Christa had a good sense of who she had been trained to be since she had gotten involved in military affairs. Since before she could remember, she could never tame the fire of combat that raged on within her, but she could mask that part of her when her sister was around.... Maybe that was the true reason Christa had left, so she could be herself again.

A sigh escaped her parted lips. Life was too complex. All she really wanted was family, good sex, and someone to shoot at. The rest of the details could go bite itself. Heavy eyes remained in their sockets while Christa crawled through the forest with a sniper over her shoulder. Its familiar strap and accurate weight made her tense shoulders rest a little easier as she stalked in the night, for she knew just what monsters that this darkness held.

After what seemed like an eternity of watching her back, turning her chin over her shoulder, and drawing her pistol a few times, Christa finally approached the small dirty pathway that lead to Darkshire’s gate. A feeling in her stomach fluttered as she rejoiced, after a creeping night, full of hollow but still real fear, there was nothing better than a familiar place. Christa had no home but she was thankful to be back here, thankful to see the familiar faces she had once left behind.

The rogue padded up the pathway, with simple ease laden in her movements. Immediately at the gate, she was hailed to, “STOP!”

Christa looked up at the drawbridge, and to the tired man who held a ranged weapon aimed in her direction, meanwhile, a rusty sword hung off his hip. Christa sighed, “I’m here to see Mornel. Open the gate, I’m not a friggin’ zombie.”

The young man appeared taken aback, “Wha’s yer name?”

At least he hadn’t called her ‘miss’ she thought disdainfully as she grunted in a lower voice now, “Adams. Christa Adams.”

A glance was exchanged with another guard who muttered out of her earshot, “You better let her in son.”

The drawbridge creaked open, she could hear the mechanisms stirring from within the lever of the door, and Christa checked her back to make sure there was no one behind her, she’d hate to have her admittance cause some sort of raid on the deteriorating city. Content with the information that her eyes brought her, she spun around, and rolled right into the town, until she was stopped by an older gentleman thumping his way down a set of very withered wooden stairs.

Christa wouldn’t have been distracted by such a minor movement, but since it was toward her, her senses stayed on edge, while her ear stayed on the old man, who now followed her, and beckoned for her to wait.

“What business do you have with me?” Christa blinked and looked at the man, dismissively.

“Don’t you recognize an old friend when you see one?” the old man coughed after speaking in such a hoarse voice. The night’s chill had not been good for the old man’s bones.

“Shouldn’t someone who claims to be my friend, know I don’t have any?” She offered him a gracious smirk, which he exchanged, heartily, “So what the hell happened to you?”

Christa’s comment probed the cause of his age, which had perpetuated by a rate of ten, her young friend of twenty eight when she had last seen him, now looked ninety-two. He had been forced into a diminishing state of health, just as Marko had been, before his death. The man coughed some more, “I could ask you the same thing,” he grinned and referred to her primehood, which somehow, was written all over her face.

It was kind of sad. No, very sad. Christa gazed at an old friend, who’s life had come and gone, one she had missed when she had been merely blinking. Now she was still young as ever, destined never to die, while her friend here, had remained loyal to Darkshire, fought the noble fight, and it appeared he had paid the price. Her thoughts went to what kind of illness, potion, or curse that could have caused this, but there just wasn’t enough information for it to be conclusive.

“Here, why don’t we get inside,” Christa guided him, after noticing just how badly his hands were shaking. She lead the way to where she had remembered the last bar being located, and as she strolled through the desolate streets, finally she delivered him to the room full of warmth.

After they had sat down, and ordered two cold ones, he looked more refreshed, “I see you came with the frost.” his eyes held on hers, while his words sounded as though they carried an omen.

“Oh, uh... Yeah, it was pretty cold out there, also, I didn’t think men your age could down ‘em like you used to,” she looked at his beer, which had been chugged faster than her own.

“Old habits, die hard.” he confirmed with another heaping slurp, he set down his glass now, and a stoic expression weighed on his face, “Listen, friend, there is something you must know,” his voice fell into a whisper, despite the emptiness of the bar, “A grave danger is soon to come to us, not just the Pale Moors, but all of the Omniverse...”

The warning rang in her ears while his voice fell away, he heaved up a bit of phlegm and kept his bright golden eyes glued to her, as if every moment were his last. She felt the sorrow for him in her bones, she really did, it cut especially deep to know she could do nothing to stop his rapid aging. “Damn it Mornel, cut it out, you know I like things straight and to the point, what the hell is wrong with you? And why won’t you outright say it?”

The sexy bartender did not appear stirred by her words, and Christa’s relentless questioning carried on in her fierce gaze, finally, her companion spoke again, “You haven’t changed a bit,” he concluded smugly, “It is because there is no hope for me to be saved, however, there is hope for the rest, those who see my face and think that this age has come naturally, or perhaps out of malnutrition. Those young and unknowing, those are who you are now fighting for.”

The truth burned within Christa, who shook her head stubbornly, “Not clear enough, Mornel, I need more information if I’m to-”

“Ah, youth, everything is so simple. Find out who the bad guy is, ready your blade, and find the best way to strike. It’s impressive to us older folk, who have very little energy to be so hard hitting.” Christa felt her eyes sag with guilt just looking at him. She could’ve sworn her old friend had sprouted more white hairs on the top of his liver-speckled head since they had been talking. 

“Christ, Mornel, why don’t you just brief me?” she gave up, her patience ran too thin, these days.

“Because, Christa, I want you to know what serving has meant to me. And I want you to consider it, before I give you a lead on the solution to our problem.” Christa gulped as her eyes fell upon the parting in his collared shirt, where she could see his dog-tags hung. He would die in them. Even if not in combat, than in the war against age. The rogue had never disliked the man, and always found he was a good drinker, but now, she found a bit of malice attached to him, for holding those shackles he called ‘loyalty’ higher than his own life.

He saw the look on her face, and his gaze shifted, she had quite a nice figure, and was even more beautiful than he remembered, the color of her eyes, clear blue, but what was most resounding, was the eternal fire that burned in them. His golden eyes fell on her skin, of what he knew could have been, it spoke agony for the both of them, “I died for my cause, what I believed in. Adams, I want you to know I considered you a good friend-”

“You’re talking as though you’re already dead, goddamnit!” her fist slammed down on the table, only to break it, and spill their beers everywhere. She looked at the aftermath of her anger, and then caught the glimpse of the bartender, who’s expression said ‘you’ll be paying for that.’ Mornel shifted the dentures in his mouth, and felt the bristling pale hairs that were growing out of his chin. His gaze stayed on hers, as though asking her what was the cause of her savage outrage. She decided time was of the essence, and would waste no more of it, “Marko died in my fucking arms, Jesse.”

Nodding, Mornel understood her rage a little better, and paused thoughtfully before speaking, “So you see my inevitable fate, then. So you see, what it is most important that I should want to pass the torch on to someone -the only person- I know who can live up to what expectations I have.”

Distractedly, Christa’s eyes fell on the freshly-halved table, “I got my sister back, Jesse. She’s waiting for me, she’s starting school again...”

“So that’s it then?” Mornel took a breath, and felt the hefty burden of a single man, who was fighting a war with an army he didn’t have. The enemy was out there, and enjoyed lurking in the shade of night. The enemy which Christa knew was both monster and man, “You’re giving up, despite the fact that you’ve been given a gift some of us secondaries couldn’t even have dreamed of!”

“Hey, I was one of you too y’know!” Christa protested, and waved the bartender down with the wag of her hand, “Don’t treat me like this is some kind of... of... Race, because it sure as hell isn’t. Mornel, I became a Prime to save my fucking sister, not to deal out a can of whoop ass on anyone who has ever caused me an issue. I left that behind, it’s why I’m not in Coruscant right now, hunting down anyone who had something to do with Katia’s kidnapping and murder.”

“Christa, if you look at the larger picture of this, I think you’ll see things the way I do.” He spoke curtly and wisely, while Christa began downing her fresh glass of ale.

She swallowed hard, “You’re being ridiculous Mornel, better Primes have tried and failed, I know you’d like me to use my new ‘influence’ for good, but I didn’t gain much from Omni other than this, and I don’t see what I’m supposed to do about the tragedies that come my way. People die, and I have to watch. Not a damn thing has changed.”

“Everything has changed.” he spoke with conviction, “Christa, you’re talking about real people, real lives out there that need someone to lead them, to guide them, someone to help them dig themselves out of a world that has buried them alive. Are you telling me, you’re going to turn your back on those people, especially when you were one of them?”

She could’ve slapped him. But he was an old man. She stared at the lined skin of his face and blinked away the obstacle that now faced her, hoping, in the back of her mind, that this reality wasn’t the truth.“I still am one of them, Mornel, you’re not one to treat me any different had I lost a goddamn leg out there, so why do you expect me to fight for them? They never accepted me, I was shunned like the freak I am, why do you think I bore the name ‘rogue’ and deserted? I’m probably not even welcome in Darkshire, considering the circumstances.”

“Barney knew you’d never stay, he gave you a sword because I told him you would fight during the crusade.... He was proud of you. Especially since we won. If only you knew how proud I am, you’ve come a long way, Chris.” His hand shook and clasped one another, it seemed he had lost his taste for ale, and they steadied on the remains of the broken wooden table. “If you’d have died out there, tell me, what would it have meant to you? You would not be where you’re sitting now, nor would you have a sister to remember.”

“I was a fool then, to throw away my life for a battle I didn’t want to fight. Don’t you see Jesse? I didn’t make a difference then, and I don’t now! Fuck it, I’m better off rotting in the Underverse than staying here, trying to battle my way out of this conversation with you! Why don’t you see Jesse? I’m not just misunderstood, I’m a mistake, I’ve killed good people and bad, their names and faces mix together like passing street names. I’m a murderer. And I don’t deserve the luxury of having a family, a community, I can only hold onto the idea of my sister, apparently, because I’m not even there for her now! She’s got no mother, and she hasn’t even got me!” Christa hadn’t realized that her voice had raised until the last words, which had flowed out of her faster than a river. A shockwave of pink flushed on the pale skin of her face and Mornel seemed content. It hadn’t taken much, for her to reveal her weaknesses to the old man. Perhaps it was out of pity, perhaps fear, or perhaps, she just wanted it off of her chest.

The bartender was working hard not to look as though she was eavesdropping, and would’ve left the room to use the ‘bathroom’ had it been regular townsfolk, but she wouldn’t simply leave a Prime unattended in her bar. She had invested too much time in it.

“Christa, maybe, d’you think, that if Omni made you a Prime, you might feel a little more worthy?” Her gaze shifted away, with ample reluctance. There was fire in her fists and it showed on the pale patches of her crunched knuckles. The woman didn’t like feeling wrong, and this time she felt pretty terrible too. She was silent, for once in her life, and couldn’t even force herself to meet the man’s eyes.

He had been young, not long ago, now he had lost his life. Many more would lose their lives. She knew he was right, even if he went about it in a way she disagreed with. “Mornel, I don’t have to choose your lifestyle,” she clasped her glass in her hand as condensation formed, “In order to fight for mine.”

Mornel looked deep into her eyes, and found she was speaking a truth she knew well enough. A rogue like her couldn’t be convinced to join the infantry levels of his army by a few motivational quotes, chosen and spoken at the right time. He smirked, he saw her way a little easier now, and her familiar stubbornness was refreshing. Even if it defeated part of his spirit, “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, add it to the list,” she responded, “And while you do that you can buy me another beer. You know, I once had a fella compete shots with me, joke was on him though, right? He was buying.” she scoffed, but the joke seemed distant on her friend’s old ears. “You know, Jesse, had you just wanted me to investigate, that would’ve been one thing, but I can’t just fill your shoes for you here, I’m closer to a mercenary than a soldier. You of all people should know that.”

“You have the determination of both.”

“Yeah, maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’ve the heart to wake up every morning and fight a losing war.” her words caused him to wince, she sympathized, “Jesse, you can’t tell me that you thought we were winning this thing?”

“Perhaps my hope has gotten the best of me, after all, I am an old man yet, whose days are numbered.” Mornel admitted, “You know Chris, I always thought I’d die out there, on the battlefield. Now... Now every day I wake up and am forced to think ‘am I dead yet?’ as though this thing has a mind enough to take mercy on me.”

“You’re talking about life, not war, Mornel.” Christa surmised.

“There’s not much of a difference,” he scoffed. “Alas, I had hoped you’d see it my way and perhaps take care of the town when I died, but honestly, I suppose Darkshire’s future is looking pretty bleak, and not just because of the monsters.” A course cough followed as he lifted his chin and took off his dogtags.

“I don’t know how long I have, Adams, but I died in battle the moment it put its clutches on me. It’s got eggs, and now, surely there are more of them. Take my tags, when I close my eyes for the last time, and they finally find me, they’ll know who I am by the number on my house, not the name I once used during the time I served.” he took a breath, “Just tell me one thing, did ya meet Omni?”

Christa blinked as the tags were forced into her hands, she couldn’t very well pull her hands away, for his were shaking with arthritic spurts of age, and Chris couldn’t bare to prove her newly found strength to the man. A long, exasperated sigh left her lips, “Yes, I met him.”

“And was he... Real?” Mornel’s golden eyes glistened.

Christa blinked. What a question. Though it shouldn’t have surprised her, doesn’t everyone want to know if God is Real? She wanted to say ‘more or less’ but couldn’t quite find it in herself to shatter Mornel’s heart a second time. “Yeah, he’s real.”

“What was he... Like?” Mornel asked her in a hushed tone, as though it was a secret, meant for only his ears.

Pain flickered only for a second in Christa’s eyes, “He was uh...” Undefinable was the best word for the deity, but that would be a let down, given the hope in Mornel’s eyes, “He was worth it.”

It wasn’t directly a lie, but it was a strange way to it. Worth every ounce of effort because he had indirectly given her back her sister, but the ‘god’ as Mornel seemed to view him, was oddly human for Christa’s liking, however, the girl had respected Omni’s decision to remain more or less a third party in their encounter.

With her delivery, a look of relief unraveled across Mornel’s face. Christa scoffed, “You don’t honestly think you’re going to meet him when you die, do you?”

Mornel remained silent. Christa had no time to feel sorry for him. “Tell me, tell me of the creature that did this to you, and just how many more of them you think there are.”

A deep, resounding sigh filled the bar, Christa realized just how much old people had to breathe, and the distinctive manner, which resembled that of soft waves, slow and long. “I am not sure what they call it outside of Darkshire, but I have named it the Life-sucker. Since it seems to feed on any creature’s age that it can get its hands on. I have a roughly drawn sketch of it, that I obviously drew when I was younger, when I could grasp a pencil in my hands.”

He pulled out the folded piece of paper from his coat jacket, and placed it on the table before sliding it over to Christa, who, as soon as it was within reach, let her hand shoot out quickly to grasp the paper, and open up the folded picture.

((That feel when no flame icon on the new forums))


Character name: Mick Rory

Character source: The Flash(TV series, 2014)/Legends of Tomorrow(TV series, 2016)

Character history: Taken from the end of The Flash, Season 1 Episode 10: "Revenge of the Rogues," after he and Snart got arrested.

Physical Description: http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/arro...0130164333 ((Wouldn't post as an image for some reason.))

((Ignore the fact that this specific outfit is from Legends of Tomorrow, not The Flash, I prefer this look.))

Stats:
ATK: 5
DEF: 2
SPD: 2
TEC: 1

Starting Proficiencies: (2600)
(1000) Melee Attack Proficiency: Despite the fact that he was burned multiple times in the past, Mick Rory is fairly physically fit, able to fight in hand-to-hand combat fairly well.
(1000) Ranged Attack Proficiency: He owns the Heat Gun, which allows him to fight at range with the thing he loves most - beautiful FIRE.
(600) Debuff Proficiency: Obviously, his Heat Gun sets things on fire, though it isn't nearly as powerful as before.

Starting Powers: None.

Starting Moves:
(300) Heat Gun - Requires Ranged Attack Proficiency, Debuff Proficiency



Rory's Heat Gun, which originally used to fire absolute hot, i.e. the Planck temperature, is now reduced to nothing more than a handheld flamethrower with a bit more power. He can fire it in a constant beam, which looks like, well, a beam of fire, 1 meter all around, circular shape. It goes at a speed of 10 miles per hour. Beams are fire(no pun intended) and forget.

The constant beam is less powerful than average, but it's easier to hit it's target, and the attack lasts for a few seconds. It can be fired continuously for up to 15 seconds, but then he can't use the Heat Gun at all for 30 seconds, needing to let it cool down. During this time, he is pretty much completely disarmed, and is only able to hold the line at most. The constant beam reaches a maximum range of 10 meters. Those further away from the beam take less damage.

The opponent sets on fire lightly, taking continuous damage for about 7 seconds or until they stop fighting to just tap the flame out. And the move can be used with other handheld weapons and one-handed(or no-handed) moves, but no larger guns like assault rifles or two-handed moves. It's easier for him to aim while standing still, but he can indeed use it while moving.

One power cell equals 60 seconds - not counting time between firing blasts - of continuous fire.

Total Omnilium Spent: 2900

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct. Yuppers.

Where did you find us? Been here.

Character name:
The Vision


Character source:
Marvel Comics

Character history:
tl;dr he's from the comics, from the "Marvel Now" storyline.

The Vision is something called a synthezoid - apparently, a completely synthetic human. He was created by the robot Ultron to destroy the Avengers: he was a trap so invested in tricking the Avengers that he himself did not know he was on Ultron's side. Unfortunately, that meant that he believed he was on the Avengers' side - thus, he attacked Ultron and tricked him into killing himself. Eventually, he joined the Avengers.

Later, it was revealed that his brainwaves are that of Wonder Man, who essentially demanded he have them back. In a weird twist of fate that can only happen in comic books, the Vision turned out to also be part Human Torch, and long story short, he's party Johnny Storm now.

Since his creation, the Vision has gone through a lot of adventures. He married Scarlet Witch (an admittedly shaky relationship, filled with unborn twins and several reality resets) and has since gone through a lot of character changes. Upshot is, he's an android/synthezoid that is doing his very best to simulate humanity.

Stats:
ATK: 2
DEF: 1
SPD: 2
TEC: 5

Starting Proficiencies:

Ranged Proficiency (1000)
Area Attack Proficiency (600)

Starting Powers:

Flight (1800) - The Vision can fly. Who knows how.
Phasing (1200) - The Vision is able to break apart his molecules, allowing them to phase through almost all physical material, then reassemble. This allows him to hover through walls, or dodge attacks. 

Starting Moves: 

Optical Heat Projection (300) - Requires Ranged Proficiency
The Vision shoots weak beams of solar energy out of his eyes. The beams are white-hot cylinders 15 mm wide each, which can travel 3 meters before sizzling out. They are aimed at whatever he's looking at at the time. He can sustain the beams for 5 seconds before needing to recharge. Recharging the solar energy takes 2 seconds.

For a later time:
Microwave Propulsion (300) - Requires Ranged Proficiency, Area Attack Proficiency
The Vision fires a microwave pulse from his Solar gem. The pulse affects everyone within 1 meter of Vision. It does little more than a headache at the edge of the AoE, but can cause some minor damage if you are closer to him. This attack also knocks you back a very short distance. This attack needs 10 seconds to be used again, and an additional 5 seconds before it's at its full power. At a portion of its power, it has the same range, but far less damage.

I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct.
I also confirm that this character cannot be approved until this Sunday (May 15th, 2016).

as she walked through the portal she saw Coruscant*Wow this is amazing just the scale of the city is huge it is almost like the city of Home and new home.* "I guess it is amazing said one of the men."
As Chara walked with her horse she thought it would be better to make Determination back into Omnilium so she told the men to wait for a second and they stopped just so she could do her thing and her horse was no more she then said. *Ok I can go now to where you are taking me also where are you taking me?* one of the men turned to her and said we just need you to fill out some paper work at our place and they continued down to the courthouse and she saw a man who gave her some paper work and said *Put your finger here we just need to have your finger print and a little blood so we know who you are, ok?* then after she filled out the paper work they said *Alright so we now need to know what weapons you have on you so show them please.* and she unsheathed her knife and said *It's for self defense.* ok one final thing to tell you *So no using your knife in the city for any reason, cause no trouble, and welcome to the greatest city in the Omniverse.* as she walked to the door she remembered something *Hey do you know where the library is?* the man told her it was just down the street a bit she said thanks' and left.

A bit after "Sir its the Pale moors bounty, and she is heading to the library at this moment, yes she is alone and is safe to apprehend with just one person." and the man ends the call.

about half way to the library she finally sees the massive number of camera's *Well this city has a lot of security, I will say that.* she then walks into the library to find out more about this verse and more. she sees that for the most part its empty except for a few people and librarians, she walks up the the person working the desk and says *Um miss could you tell me where I can read more about Coruscant.  She looks down at the girl and says to her coldly "well its down in the history aisle." Chara trying to stay calm says thank you and grabs a few books like the history of tier one and so on and sits down to read while waiting for her correspondent.

Purchases and Deductions for Freeza go here

Current post count: (your current post count, viewable below your avatar)
Current Earned OM: (your current Earned OM, viewable next to your posts)
Current Spent OM: (total, viewable on your roster)
Buying: (whatever it is you want to buy). 
Cost: (the cost) OM
New Spent OM: (your total Spent OM after the purchase)

All moves must be approved here before purchase.

The savannah night air was instantly recognisable against her muzzle as she tumbled from the portal. On the one hand, Carmelita found this reassuring, harking back to the trip she’d taken to the Wild West and the sands of Arabia. On the other, that meant that her cloak had broken.

Sure enough, the stormtrooper who was resting his feet on his desk started in alarm, scrambling to grab his blaster to shoot at the faint blur that had tumbled from the portal. Carmelita wasted no time in running for cover as FENRIS mechs burst through behind her, sniffing the air with their chemical sensors and prepping their tasers. Her cloak quickly re-established its integrity, and she began sprinting away into the darkness, scrambling over the wire fence and away from the commotion behind her.

After half an hour of running, the sounds of pursuit died off. Carmelita dropped to her knees in relief, panting heavily. After several minutes spent simply lying there from exhaustion, she switched off the cloak and climbed a tree, settling into the branches in time to see the sun begin to rise on the horizon. Making sure she was invisible from below, she dozed off in the nook of the Eucalyptus, her first Omniverse nap beginning.

primeconversation.om/conversation/idm=33043’Looking-for-those-who-Protect-and-Serve’

Interpol Inspector seeks Other Policing Primes.

I am Inspector Fox-Cooper, a relative newcomer to the Omniverse. I am seeking to talk to others who have had experience with law-enforcement, especially international law, before or after arrival in the Omniverse.
I'd like to open a discussion about the current provision of law-enforcement, and whether the forces that do so do so in the spirit of true policing

Looking forward to hearing from you

Inspector Fox-Cooper

#prime #police #interpol

Filtered light cascaded down on the shrouded shadows of the land. Empty, stale air would not be moved by any amount of wind that prompted it. Bushes rustled, ever so softly, stirred by the beasts within them. But high in the sky, above the dismally gray fog and past the swooping vulture and raven wings, the form of a person could be seen falling.

It was but a speck in the gray sky, and while the sun’s warmth could not bee seen nor felt on skin -at least, had there been any living creature around- they might have seen this dark splotch of black growing larger as the figure fell nearer and nearer to the land of the Pale Moors.

Soon enough, black fabric could be seen wrapped around the woman’s form, and then, with the inevitable snap of branch and bone, she collided with the ground. Her black hair fell atop moss, while her body sprawled out over the dank smelling forest ground. Some leaves and damp brown soil was unearthed by way of her impact, and after a moment, one of her fingers wiggled just slightly in the muddy earth. With a wiggle of her nose, the woman heaved her torso up, while it sounded like some of her bones snapped into place. The woman straightened her posture and looked around quizzically in light of the new land, while her hand still grasped at the soil. Her eyebrows lifted as she ponderously looked around, “Hello?” her weak voice called out, but there was no response from the hallowed forest in which she had landed.

“Can... Can somebody help me? I-I don’t know where I am?” her voice, so frail and feminine carried farther than a shout, almost beckoning the creatures within it, “Help,” her voice whispered, fear quaking as her eyes fixed on the rustling bushes but a few feet away from her toes.

A deep voice, manly and beast-like suddenly spoke to her, “Oh I’m afraid there will be no help for you miss. It seems, out of the worst of luck, that you’ve fallen into my territory, and it’s my job to make sure that you don’t make it out alive.”

A figure, tall and daunting, lunged at the woman who was still sitting idly on the ground. A snarl formed on her own lips as she saw the flashing pair of fangs gleam white from the parting of the vampire’s mouth. Immediately, there was an eruption of movement. And after a whirl of blended color, from both their bodies clashing together, the fall of one body softly hit the ground, as the victor straightened once more, and cracked her neck, basking in the triumph.

“Sorry, but I don’t have the time to deal with a pest like you,” her black irises had expanded so that now even the whites of her eyes had been covered in shadow. A smirk covered her full and red lips as she looked down at the body and felt the curve of her lips grow in her so obvious superiority, “Oh my, just look who’s fallen now.”

Character name: Tony Stark (Iron Man)

Character source: Marvel

Character history: Tony Stark is the head of Stark Industries, and a financial powerhouse. He built weapons, revolutionized warfare, and made the world a seemingly better place in general. Then he got kidnapped, shoved in a cave, and forced to build dirty weaponry.

This event started a chain that would change his life forever.

He, being the rule-breaker he is, decided not to build the weapon, and instead make a robotic suit with the assistance of one Dr. Ho Yinsen. Cue the explosions and rapid escape. 

Afterwards, he started cancelling his weaponry lines, and slowly gained something called 'consideration for others'. He also enjoyed the feeling of helping others in the suit, and upgraded the metal hunk of junk into the Iron Man Armor, and used the cover of Bodyguard to justify why there was now a superhero flying around in Stark Tech.

Over time, he essentially said 'screw it' to the whole 'secret identity' deal, and became an open hero. After many drunk, sober, and painful adventures later, the founding of the Avengers, several instances of breaking and reforming the Avengers, we finally reach the Super Hero Registration Act, and the beginning of the Civil War. Also the time where Tony falls into the Omniverse. Timing, am I right?

Physical Description: 
Stats:
ATK: 3
DEF: 2
SPD: 3
TEC: 2

Starting Proficiencies:
*Physical Strength: Gotta have that increased suit strength somehow.
*Ranged Proficiency: Repulsor blasts, and whatever crazy weapon he can add to this thing.
*Homing Proficiency: For all those times where your aiming is terrible.
(2600 OM Total)
Starting Powers:
*Flight: Hey, gotta travel somehow.
(1800 OM)
(4400 OM total)
Starting Moves:
Repulsor Beam (300 OM): Using two sections on the palm of his hands, he can fire beams of florescent blue energy around 1.5 inches in height and stream from his gauntlets, and reach a total distance of around 30 feet. These beams stem directly from the suit, and therefore take up more of the suits power on constant usage. These beams can be constantly fired, but need to be aimed carefully in order to at least hit accurately,, and can be used when moving, however the accuracy when moving is decreased. While they can be used in conjunction with the missiles, that would only decrease their accuracy further.

On contact with one of these blasts, it will leave a singe mark, and a burning sensation on the body of the target.

Homing Missiles (300 OM): As the name implies, this is a missile. These missiles are rather small, being around 3 inches in length, 1 inch in height, and 1 inch in length. They move continuously for around 40 feet, before sputtering out, and falling from the air, using momentum as one final chance to reach their target. These missiles will seek out their target, moving around 25 mph, and will explode on contact. Currently there are around 56 small missiles installed in the system, and he can fire around 7 at a time. These can be fired while in motion, and usable in conjunction with the repulsors, although the energy output would drain the suits much faster. As the auto-targeting systems are online, he usually doesn't need to manually aim and fire them, which makes them much easier to use at high speeds and in motion than the repulsors, which require at least a solid aim on the target to hit their mark.
(600 OM)
(5000 OM Total)
I confirm that I have read and agreed to the Rules of Conduct: Yes, that is something I confirm.

Where did you find us?: On the depths of the internet. Also rejoining from an incomplete application a while ago.

Resurrection is a lot like waking up from a dream. Those first few moments come sluggish, like cement pumped through veins. One great big gasp of air brought Strazio’s brain back online. A sour curse slipped from his lips and he stretched. Joints popped and muscles strained, a brand new body brought brand new stiffness. Even his clothes felt rigid and they smelled of fresh detergent. But even rebirth, complete and utter reconstruction couldn’t remove that damned gnawing that nibbled at the base of his skull. Attached to his belt the clasp that held his journal was empty. He failed. Harbinger won. Shang had won, and Strazio had lost. Failure was that creature that drove rusted nails into his skull. Resurrection is a lot like waking up from a dream only to realize that your life sucks.

No longer did the Nexus bear the fruits of his clash with harbinger. Absent were the streaks of blood and charred pock marks. Even the fountain stood unscathed and unbroken, completely indifferent to the struggles of mortals. Gamzee sat at the base of the fountain, using his juggling pins to tap out a slow beat. Upon noticing Strazio’s appearance his mellow jam session came to an abrupt halt. The defender of Darkshire stepped towards his friend and asked, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Dunno,” Gamzee said, “A while I guess. Had a lotta time to think, ponder the great mysteries of life y’know?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gamzee paused, taking a moment to stand, “Thinking about your offer. Y’know teachin’ me how to sling motherfucking spells and all that shit. Teachin’ me how to build my own chains, man.”

“And?”

“Let’s do it,” The troll half-grinned, “Teach me your ways magic man.”

Strazio responded, “Aight. I’ll teach you everything I know, but you’re gonna help me with some heavy lifting in the Moors. Sound good?”

“Brother, long as it’s righteous I’ve got your back.”

“Good.”

Without so much as another word the duo left for the Moors. Stepping through the gate they were greeted by the oppressive atmosphere of the hellish verse. The scent of mothballs and stale earth filled their nostrils. Night had swallowed the Moors, thrusting the entire verse into a dismal haze. A full moon sat proudly in the sky, casting a pale sheen of light upon the land. In the distance strange howls echoed across hills and valleys. There was a certain rhythm to the Moors, an almost indescribable essence that Strazio had come to recognize. This land belonged to the dead and they were trespassing upon such unhallowed ground. A icy gust of wind reminded the two that death was supreme here.

“Let’s move quickly,” Strazio said, “Darkshire is our only true sanctuary here.”

“I can hardly see,” Gamzee responded.

“Same here.”

Slowly the two trudged forth, with Strazio leading. Another howl, a wolf’s howl. Something was getting close. Gamzee’s knuckles turned a peculiar pale gray as he tightened his grip around his clubs. Shadows danced around the two; bushes and stones transformed into taunting gremlins. Still they pressed forward, through the nibbling shadows. In the distance a light gleamed, Darkshire, a priceless gem in a bag of coal. Miles of hostile darkness separated them from that precious beacon of light, and their pace was that of a turtle’s.

They had wandered into a forest, or rather the remains of a forest. Overhead hollow branches stretch, threatening to constrict what little light came from the moon. Another howl, closer than before. The two froze. Dry twigs and sticks cracked underneath the heavy steps of their unseen stalker. Strazio growled and shouted, “Whatever is out there better fuck off or I’ll-” His threat was left unfinished as a creature bolted at him from behind a tree. The sound of ripped cloth and a throaty yelp filled the air as Strazio’s gut was ripped asunder. Like a bolt of lightning the unseen creature charged back into the darkness, leaving nothing but a doubled-over prime.

“Motherfucker!” Gamzee exclaimed and ran over to his downed friend, “Did you see that shit? What happened?”

“I didn’t see shit!” Strazio yelled and clutched his bleeding stomach. Sparks of magic danced across his flesh and coalesced towards his gut. Five long gashes, left by a set of wicked claws, were carved across his belly. Using magick he cauterized the wounds and staunched the flow of blood. Strazio grunted and stood straight before speaking, “It moved so fast I barely caught a glimpse of it. Ain’t a wolf, I don’t think. Much bigger, much bigger.”

From the darkness the creature howled, reminding the two of its presence. Yellow eyes, large as baseballs, glared at the two from within a row of trees. It stepped forward and a shaft of moonlight caught it, revealing Strazio’s assailant. Indeed it was no wolf, for it stood on two hind legs, but it was closer to a wolf than a man. Matted gray-blue fur covered the beast. Instead of a mouth the creature had a muzzle lined with stained fangs. Fresh blood dripped from the beast’s claws. It let loose another howl, and charged towards Gamzee. The clown crossed his clubs and braced for impact. A train made of fur and claws slammed into the troll, pushing his to the ground. Fangs sunk deep into Gamzee’s shoulder, and he yelled loud enough to wake the dead. A burst of white magick, hot and vicious, erupted from Strazio’s palm. The wolf-man’s fur bristled in anticipation and he leaped away to avoid the incoming attack.
“He bit me Strawso! He bit me!” Gamzee yelled.

“For fucks sake, get up and help! I know you ain’t hurt.” Strazio yelled back.

In an almost unnecessary display of acrobatics Gamzee leaped to his feat. With a flourish he tossed his clubs into the air and caught them with opposite hands. The troll said, “Yeah, well, was still awfully rude of our canine friend here.”

“Let’s fuck him up.”

“Aight.”

The creature’s canine ears perked up, listening to something left unheard by the two primes. Two sharp sniffs of the air sent the creature running into the darkness. The duo deflated as magick fizzled and clubs were lowered. Strazio asked, “Is, is it gone?”

“Uh,” Gamzee responded, “I think we spooked it.”

“What the fuck just happened?” The mage asked no one in particular.

Shouting cut through the forest and the orange light of torches illuminated the darkness. A party of men were stomping through the forest, seeming to try and make as much noise as possible. Strazio and Gamzee stood waiting for the group in silence. A familiar face emerged from the forest, and behind him several soldiers followed. Sergeant Rumford’s eyebrows raised when his torch cast a light upon the two. His voice cracked and he asked, “Strazio? What the hell are you doing out here in the dark?”

“Oh you know, getting mauled by the local fauna, making new friends, that kind of stuff.”

“You don’t need to be snippy,” Rumford said, “Did you get attacked by it?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean a seven foot tall wolf-man-beast then yes, yes I did. What are you doing out here?”

“Hunting that werewolf.”

“Well you’re doing a shit job of it.” Strazio pointed to his fashionable new stomach wound.

“Come on brother, t’wasn’t that bad,” Gamzee chimed in, placing a palm on his friends shoulder, “You gonna introduce me to your friends?”

“I’m Sergeant Rumford, these are my soldiers. I take it your a friend of our chipper defender here?”

“Oh you fucking sassy-”

Before Strazio could finish Gamzee stepped forward and interrupted, “Gamzee Makara, pleased to make your acquaintance and stuff.”

“Likewise, if you’re a friend of Strazio, you’re a friend of mine.” Rumford paused, “We’re just heading back to Darkshire, you both look like you could use some torches. Want to tag along?”

“Uh, sure,” Gamzee responded, glancing over to Strazio for confirmation.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Strazio said.

The ensemble of soldier and primes began their slow trudge back towards Darkshire. The abundance of torches and weaponry seemed to stave off the undesirables hiding in the darkness. No more distant howls, and no more uneasy feeling. Strazio winced every now and again as his charred wound ripped open, spilling a small bit of blood. However Gamzee seemed largely unaffected by his new bite mark, in fact asides from the royal blood seeping from the puncture wounds he would’ve appeared quite healthy. The troll piped up and asked, “So uh, what was that thing?”

“Werewolf,” Rumford answered, “It’s a man afflicted by a disease called Lycanthropy. When the moon is bright the man turns into, well, you saw what he turned into. Any rate, me and my boys got the special honor to go an’ hunt ‘em down.”

“Well that’s pretty motherfuckin’ righteous.”

“Yeah well, we saw him once. Killed one of my men, but we managed to stick him with a few silver-tipped bolts.”

“Why silver-tipped?” Strazio asked.

“Silver is like poison to them, gets in their blood, makes ‘em sick. Usually it kills them, not sure how this one survived. Hell I’m not even sure if it’s the same one,” Rumford said, “We’re almost back, Strazio, you and your friend can stay at my place. I’ll make us a late night meal, but you should probably stop at Mama Godwin’s hut before you do and get some medicinal salve for you wounds. I don’t want you guys bleeding on everything.”

“Oh my, how thoughtful, make us get our own medicine.” Strazio said.

“You’ll be fine, after I’ve seen what you can go through I think you can handle it.” Rumford teased.

“Yeah we’ll be fine Strawso, just fine.” Gamzee said.

The party came to the gates of Darkshire and without much fanfare they were allowed in. Once they were past the gates the soldiers disbanded and left for the barracks. Rumford, after giving directions to the two primes, left for his home.