Lone Star

Blake smiled and shook his hand. Such nice people! "Blake Salazar, AKA Kid Cthulhu." He looked at the boy. "Yer a big 'un!"

KC turned back into Blake with a flash of green fire. "Yeah! I'm hoping to stay on campus. Do you need help looking for your cat?" Summers could wait.

"Oh...sorry about that. Cats tend to not like me. I think they can see magic, or something. But anyway...can you give me a quick tour around campus? I don't want to get lost." KC smiled, as far as that went. "Oh, is this form creeping you out?"

"Fair enough." KC flicked his wrist again, and the fire went out. "It's not even real fire...it's kind of magic fire. But yeah, thanks." KC thought he was doing pretty well. "Who's Oliver?"

"Wow...that's cool." Blake said. "For sure. But watch this." Blake back up about three feet, raised his arms above his head, craned his neck up and shouted "CTHULHU F'HTAGN!" at the top of his lungs! A wash of mystic fire engulfed the young Blake, and when the flames died down, a squid-boy stood in his place. Kid Cthulhu assumed a heroic stance, his hands on his hips, and the tentacles on his face waggling proudly. "I'm Kid Cthulhu, at your service." KC then pointed his arm at a trashcan and exploded it into green flames with a flick of his wrist. "Pretty sweet, huh?"

"POWERS?!?! They know? Oh crap! Oh wait, that's awesome, but oh crap! How did he know??" Blake then takes a deep breath, and counts to three out loud. "So that's what you were talking about. What can you do?"

"Control? What, am I learning martial arts, or what?" The nature of the school was once again missed by the rather blockheaded Blake. "It's good to know that the teachers are all right, I've had some real demons in the past."

"Work is just fine with me, I kind of supported myself by my art for a little while. You said something about training, training for what?" Oh crap, Blake thought to himself. This might be a military school.

"I grew up right around here, in Southside. Yeah, a part time job sounds really good though, paint is getting expensive now-a-days." Blake laughed a little. "But I'm just glad to get out of the crappy school and house I was in. This seems like a really cool place, so far."

IGNORE ME!

Blake tilted his head. "What do you mean, what do I do? Well, I was told by a Mr. Summers that I would get a scholarship. I'm an artist." That was a very odd way of asking about someone, but Blake merely shrugged to himself.

Blake looked at where the cat once was. "Yeah...that is weird. I'm Blake, Blake Salazar." For some reason, this had happened before. Blake theorized that cats could sense occult presences at some level. Made sense, anyway. Blake smiled at her. Not only was this going to be a genius school, there were babes here. Score.

Blake took a deep breath as he walked through the gates of Claremont Academy. He was finally here. Unbeknownst to KC, every single one of the students in the school shared a common trait with him. However, Blake was blissfully ignorant and probably in for a big surprise. He had his single dusty suitcase on one arm, containing clothes, comic books, and of course pens, pencils, and paper. He smiled broadly. This was going to be freaking awesome.

Union City Union City! A comic just recently created (but thought of a while ago). I do the writing, and my friend Tim does the arts. Please give me comments or critique!

I hope I concluded that nicely...he still doesn't know it's a super school. Can you start me a thread at Claremont?

Blake smiled as he happily signed the papers. His new beginning had arrived literally at his doorstep. His only hope was that there wouldn't be any super-crime around the campus. He hoped his powers wouldn't get in the way. However, this was not important. To Claremont or bust! :cthulhu:

"A full scholarship? Sounds good, Mr. Summers." KC extends a normal hand towards the man. He was slightly confused as to why they didn't notice him earlier, but better late than never. "Where can I sign up?" For all of his life, Blake wanted something more. He wanted to be recognized, and sitting around with his uncle at his crummy house. He wanted to be with people of his talent, that he had things in common with. He wanted to be with the big leaguers.

"Wow! 'Bout time someone noticed how much of a genius I am. I believe I am very interested in your school, sir, and would be happy to join up." Blake was overjoyed. A school for extraordinary people like him? He was starting to like this Claremont guy already.

"Whut? Ya need ta talk 'bout my edjumacation?" KC laughed aloud for about thirty seconds. "No, but seriously. Hi. My name's Blake Salazar. Am I going to a genius school?"

Blake examined the car. Was Uncle stealing cars again? He hoped not. "I'm home from school...who's this guy?"

Under construction! Characters Name: Urban Ronin In Brief: Like Batman, only not rich. Power Level: (10) (150/150) Trade-Offs: None Unspent PP: 0 Alternate Identity: Roland Morgan Age: 19 Gender: Male Height: 6’-0†Weight: 180 lbs. Eyes: Blue Hair: Black Description: Roland, in his street clothes, looks like a well-built young adult. He has jet-black hair that he gels up into spikes. He generally wears comfortable street clothes, in grey and red, his favorite colors. As Urban Ronin, he wears a hoodie jacket and jeans, both in urban camouflage. He also wears a simple domino mask, also in a shade of grey. He has a motorcycle for transportation, a Kawasaki Ninja. History: Roland grew up in The Fens, the lowest and most sleazy part of Freedom City. His father was usually at work getting meager sums to get their rent taken care of, leaving Roland to be raised on the streets. He tried to keep to himself, but as he reached his teenage years, he had to start fighting back. He was approached by a trio of South Side C's, and they asked him to join their gang. Roland had time and time again proved his ability to fight on the street when he was attacked by muggers or other street crud, and they wanted him to be in their gang. Roland declined, and the gang members attacked him. He beat them senseless, and left them in a bloody heap on the street. Later that night, when his father and him were eating dinner, a car pulled up to their house and four gang members opened fire, tearing great holes in the wall of their small apartment. His father was shot in his chest, and Roland ducked down, avoiding the shots. When his father was rushed to the hospital, the paramedics told Roland his father would make it through, but he would need months to recover from the incident. Roland returned home that night, and donned his costume. It was not a very complex costume, simply his hood and jeans, both in urban camo. He found the South Side C's about an hour later, robbing an electronics store. He got the drop on them, and beat them, tying them up with a length of chain he brought. When the police arrived, they congratulated him. Roland had found a purpose: to stop criminals from destroying his part of the city. Through the reception of his motorcycle and armor from the city, he is able to expand his crime-fighting route to other parts of Freedom City, and fight against the big-leaguers as Urban Ronin. Personality & Motivation: Although Roland did not lose his father, the traumatic incident of it has affected his personality. The young man that was once happy is now rather cold inside. He does not show emotions readily, nor will he open up to people he does not know very well. He is motivated by his desire for justice, as well as revenge against the gang members that hurt his father. Powers & Tactics: Since Roland does not possess any powers, he relies heavily on his melee and intimidation abilities to get by. He plays the scrapper in any team he is in, using close combat and his chain to beat down his opponents. His motorcycle and driving skills also make him handy for getting away quickly. Complications: Roland, although he fights criminals, has a certain hatred for street-gangs, especially the South Side C's. If he encounters a gang member, he will drop everything to make sure he is behind bars (after a good whomping). Stats: 10+4+10+2+6+4 = 34pp Str: 20 (+5) Dex: 14 (+2) Con: 20 (+5) Int: 12 (+1) Wis: 16 (+3) Cha: 14 (+2) Combat: 12+20 = 32pp Attack: +6 (+10 melee) Grapple: +11 Defense: +10 (+5 flat-footed) Knockback: -0 Initiative: +2 Saves: 0+8+12+8 = 28pp Toughness: +10 (+5 Con, +5 other) Fortitude: +13 (+5 Con, +8) Reflex: +14 (+2 Dex, +12) Will: +11 (+3 Wis, +8) Skills: 92r = 23pp Acrobatics 12 (+14) Climb 12 (+17) Drive 10 (+12) Intimidate 14 (+16) Knowledge (Current Events) 7 (+8) Knowledge (Popular Culture) 8 (+9) Knowledge (Streetwise) 9 (+10) Notice 8 (+11) Stealth 12 (+14) Feats: 0pp Streetfighting: Improved Block Improved Trip Power Attack Sneak Attack 2 Acrobatic Bluff Attack Focus (Melee) 4 Defensive Roll 2 Diehard Endurance 2 Equipment 6 Fearless Fearsome Presence 5 Hide in Plain Sight Improved Critical (Chain) 2 Powers: 0+0+0 = 0pp Drawbacks: 0+0+0 = 0pp Example: Name (description; frequency, severity; -X) DC Block: Melee --- DC 21 Toughness --- Bruise Chain (18-20 crit) --- DC 22 Toughness --- Bruise Costs: Abilities (36) + Combat (32) + Saves (28) + Skills (23) + Feats (25) + Powers (00) - Drawbacks (00) = 144pp

*crickets a-chirping*

KC sits on the docks, once again, skipping stones. He is trying to hit this fish that keeps looking at him funny. KC picks up another rock. Toss. Plunk. And misses again. "Great googily moogily, I am bored."

"Woah..." KC said as she disappeared before his eyes. "Alien chicks..." KC grinned, the tentacles on his face undulating happily. KC then began to walk back into the city, whistling the theme from ET.

KC rested easy. Although he was uneasy at first, he shrugged his shoulders at the officer. "Yeah, what can you do? Honestly, I think my generation is far worse than the flower children..." For once, a conflict involving aliens and superheroes didn't erupt into epic battle. KC sighed and smiled to himself. Not bad.