Flare Knight

Powerhouse was still contemplating how to go best about helping the people inside the car when the black-suited person appeared behind him, knocking him out of his thoughts. He spent some distinct time looking at the woman, trying to memorize her look- no insignia made it odd, he'd never seen a Hero without an insignia-, but he turned away after a second, and his face was masked in contemplation for a few minutes as he thought about both the question and the problem in his usual way of planning it all out, then, he grabbed the driver's door with his left hand, the thick metal collar on his wrist shining like part of the car itself."I'm Powerhouse, because I'm a Powerhouse. As for gimmick, my gimmick is...uhhhh..." He shrugged, deciding to show instead of tell, and, with a pull that was a bit too heavy, the door pulled off the hinges and into the man's hand. He stumbled a bit as he put too much force on it, the handle bending under his hand."I can do that. That's a gimmick, right? I don't really have anything else I can do." he said, dropping the door next to him on the ground and bending over to look inside. "Uh...I don't know what to do now. I mean, I know I should help, but the books say don't move them or something, but I also know I should probably get them out before something happens to the car...so which one is it?" He said, in genuine confusion, looking into the car, then back to the woman. It wasn't a Childish confusion, like someone who didn't know how own strength, but it was the confusion of someone who wasn't necessarily trained to deal in situations like this, or was thinking in two different ways of how to help, and they didn't coincide."Do you have a Gimmick? Maybe?" He asked, somehow calm despite the car in front of him, with the the look and actions of someone not too concerned about a situation would have, because they knew they could handle it.

I'm starting to think I should invest in a shirt. Powerhouse thought to himself as he stood like a silent sentinel in the dark- yes, a silent sentinel wearing bright blue spandex, with blond hair, and sitting on the roof of a building in plain view, he was certainly a creature of the night-, on the roof of his apartment building, watching the cars go by. Why he hadn't left the Theatre District for a patrol tonight was a good question, even for him. But he sat, enjoying the cold breeze on his face and chest, and watching the people as they went from theater to restaurant, or from restaurant to theater, just living their lives. It always amazed him, in a way, that they could be so calm even when, just about every day, some new crazy with a mask and an inferiority complex tried to steal their life's savings. 'of course,' he mused 'that peace probably comes as much from the people who dress up in Spandex and stop those people.' He was snapped out of his thoughts, however, when a screeching sound drew his look downwards. A black truck- a nice coat of paint, but dented and worn- tore through the streets, it's brake lights flashing as it turned sideways, then over on it's side. The truck skidded, passenger side down, for a few feet, then hit a small red car. By a Miracle, it didn't just roll over on top of the red car, but instead was knocked to the side and onto four wheels, where upon it- somehow- drove off again, even faster. The Red car was in far worse shape, as hitting the truck caused it to come to a flat halt, and the Truck's wheel, landing on the car's front, tipped the car onto it's roof, and it skidded into a Light pole while civilians ran for cover. Powerhouse sat dumbly on the building for a time, no longer then a minute, just pondering what he had seen. It was both a thing of beauty and unfathomable terror. He had just watched someone do stunts he had only seen in movies, and then abandon someone they had probably hurt. He thought back on what he should do, and came to the conclusion- based on his Yellow Forest Training- that he should chase the ones who did this. Then he had thought back on what Ms. Fleur said, and decided that didn't work right. So, his muscles contracting, he leaped off his apartment building and towards the ground, hitting it with a thud and an impact on the concrete- as always, little specks flew up- and went to the car, not really sure of what he should do, but knowing he should help somehow.

with three people, I have made the topic and it can be found here: viewtopic.php?f=37&t=4552

OOC for this thread I know of Fox, Trollthumper, and Rave what to participate, otherwise, please ask here before you jump in so that I can make arrangements. General Situation is massive panic. all the animals in the zoo are loose, and Wolf-man, Gorilla, and the Flying Electrical Man are all heading towards the Exit, battering anyone who gets in their way.

Hanover Zoo; 3 PM, 11/16/10 It was mid-November in Freedom City, and for many people, that meant getting out some of their winter clothing, and taking the kids to the Hanover Zoo for a day out. The Zoo, of course, obliged, and it was in as full a form as a place where animals are kept to be viewed by the general public was. The Monkeys were active, swinging in their enclosure and, for once, not throwing poo down on the unsuspecting, and instead seemed to actively be attempting to entertain the children. The Parrots and other tropical birds did much similar, amusing the children with brilliant flights and some of them, when they could, would even mimic the children, eliciting to no end great laughter and enjoyment from the children, and even some of the parents enjoyed it. Even the snakes got in on the fun in their heated enclosure, with one snake, an odd one born with two heads, showing off to the children- possibly- by crushing a dead rat and eating it. Some of them found this disgusting in a cool way, others ran screaming, but the snake looked to be having fun. The Bears were not left out, sitting flat on their rumps and staring at the children, or wandering around their enclosure. It was not that every animal was doing something cool, but every animal was moving, which was a rarity for any zoo, where at least half of them would be lethargic at any given time. It was in this time when an ape, swinging on a vine and jumping across his enclosure, landed on the ground, it's thick muscles rippling and massive fingers looking like a man's thumb instead of an actual finger. It looked around, then stood up. This did not mean that the gorilla stood up in an ape's usually hunched posture, or leaned over. The ape stood straight up, like a human, and walked straight to the glass. It stood there, looking out at the people, with eyes that seemed...highly intelligent, and most people backed away, feeling uneasy. Then it...no...HE, then HE smiled, and a scream resounded from a small girl. At the same time, sitting on a bench at the entrance to the park, a man in a dark trench-coat looked to the man next to him reading a paper. The man with the paper nodded, and the coated man stood up...or hunched, as his posture made it so that he was leaning over more then standing. Slowly, the coat ripped off his back as his entire body structure...changed. what had been fingers turned to claws as the coat fell to shreds, muscles grew where there had been none, his face, covered by a dirty mop of black hair, with a sickening crunch, elongated into a cruel muzzle, drool slipping off it as fur the color of his hair covered his entire body. His shoes ripped and became paws, and he howled, and the people- who had been screaming and running as the man changed- redoubled their efforts to escape as the man finished his transformation with a scraggly tail exploding from his torn jeans, as he rushed off deeper into the Zoo. After the Wolf-man ran off, the man with the news, who had been sitting quietly throughout the entire transformation, slowly folded his paper, placed it next to him, and stood up, and slowly began pulling off his shirt and jeans. Under his original Clothing, he wore a dark red Spandex Top with no sleeves and a long pair of black spandex pants, and even a short cape tied around his neck, reaching to his mid-back. He took off into the air at a low altitude, skimming along the ground, sparks of lightning flying off his legs as he flew, and either people got out of his way, or he ran them down- not killing them, but they were definitely KO'd for awhile- and began his job. Every time he reached an exhibit- and there were a lot of them- he blasted the glass out with a beam of green lightning from his left hand, but didn't stop. It wasn't long before the entire Zoo was in Chaos, either the people were running- it was an extremely busy day, and some people had been very deep in the zoo- to escape the Wolf-man, or were trying to escape the Animals. When the Flying man reached the Cage with the standing ape, he slowed and straightened, staring the ape for a second. The ape spoke back. "Everything according to plan, Striker?" He asked, standing behind the glass. The man nodded and held out a cane. The ape roared, and the man, in response, broke the glass the ape was stuck behind. Handing him the cane, the Ape became even thicker then before, his fur becoming thick, and hard, like stone. Leaning on it, the ape watched passively as the wolf-man ran up to him. "Alright chums." he said, like a refined gentleman- a man you would see in a fancy tea house, if not for the fact he was a gorilla. "Lets' show them why you don't upset Doctor Gorad." The ape said, as he began strolling, there was no other way to describe it, down the path, the cane hitting in time. The Spandex'd flier looked at the wolfman. "This guy better be worth it Lupine. the man named Striker said, to the wolf-man, who snorted at him and took off behind the doctor on all fours, the flying man following.

Taking the card, he examined it closely and smelled it happily, liking the scent that wafted into his nose. Placing it on his bag, he pulled slowly on the paper that he had been working on, careful to pull along the lines to rip out, and blew on it. "Well, if we are exchanging contact information, I might as well give you this." He said, turning it around and presenting it to her. 'It' was a detailed drawing- in comics style- of Fleur standing in a position surrounded by flowers. It was not colored, he had only had a basic pencil, but the drawing was fairly good looking, in his own opinion. At the bottom he had signed it with a pair of Ts surrounded by a C. He smiled. "I just doodled it while we were talking, but I work at Castle Comics, so if you have that sketch and show it to someone there, they can probably present you to me, if you ever need me for something. I'd be glad enough to help, Ms. Fleur, I have flexible hours." he said, as a joke, mostly. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll get to actually draw you. Wouldn't that be a bit funny? To read a comic about yourself that I drew? It always struck me as strange, but I don't worry too much about it." He finished, closing the book and, after taking the Tulip out of the rings, placing it back in his bag. "Thanks for all your help, Ms. Fleur, and I'll be taking my leave now to think about what you've told me. I'll make sure to see this Doktor fellow soon too, maybe I'll make an appointment in the next few days." he said, getting down into a crouched position. "I hope your night goes well!" he exclaimed, as his muscles in his legs propelled him up, then up some more, and then even more, miles into the air at a single leap, the wind rushing through his hair and against his face as he landed on a building, then jumped off again. 'That was nice. Ms. Fleur is a very good teacher. I suppose it's much better to meet someone like her on my first night out as a Superhero then trying to stop a bank-robbery or something.' he chuckled to himself as he headed back to his small apartment.

Tim jumped as the woman spoke to him in his ear, something he had not been expected when he was feeding the birds and being silent. With a start, the man hopped in the air, away from the woman, and landed a bit farther away from her on the bench, which creaked. "My goodness, Ms. Yasmin, that scared me." he muttered, sounding like an old man or some such thing, and he shook his head, his hair giving the vaguest sense of unease and disconnect from his head as he did, to get that out of his head, but he was still polite even when startled, as he relaxed on the bench again. "My name is Tim C. Tricoas. I was looking for some company, as it would be. Do you wish to take a seat with me and speak at length? I feel having someone to talk to right now might ease my discomfort." He asked, patting the bench besides him and standing up for a second to remove the smashed loaf of bread he had accidentally sat on. "I just bought this today." he said sadly, before grabbing a handful of the smashed wheat product and tossing it to the birds. He'd just have to go shopping later.

Tapping his chin with his pencil, he applied a few more strokes of his pencil to the drawing, as it took on the better . Almost done., he thought to himself, stopping for an instant to focus on the Green Heroine's question, planning his response out with measured words. "Well, Ms. Fleur. If I remember correctly from what you've been teaching me, it wasn't stopping the Beekeeper that was your first Heroic action, but it was making the parks and forests more beautiful. You said yourself, it's not necessarily stopping a criminal, it's just helping someone, so wouldn't it be better to say your first heroic action was that you started using your powers to help the parks? I mean, if making a park helps hundreds of people, that's just as good as going out and stopping some mad-man with a bee fetish from killing people." he asked, scratching his head with the pencil again. It was obvious he did that often, as the entire pencil looked extremely worn upon closer inspection, so he had either been using it awhile, or wore through pencils quickly. "Not that stopping the Beekeeper was not a heroic action, I would not say that, it was a very good deed, of course, I mean no disrespect, Ms. Fleur, I am just trying to apply the lessons I have been taught by you." He explained, his fingers flying across the page, not frantic or rushed, but calm, cool, giving the impression it was just because he knew his work so well that it was fast. It would be hard to tell, with the way he moved so sure of himself, that he could, and had, accidentally crushed many pencils in this same way by accident.

OOC for this thread

The man whose name was 'Powerhouse' when in his spandex, but was Tim right now, stared at the birds that flocked around his feet. He sat on a bench in Riverside park, a bag of bread next to him, and on the other side of the man, an untouched Sandwich. It was times like this where Powerhouse was glad he didn't look like some massive bodybuilder, because it made it easier for him to fit in. The Coat that covered his body hid his collars, but he could feel them pinching his skin. He just felt bad today, for reasons he didn't really understand. He had woken up depressed, gone into work and been told he was going to be working on a new comic by a Writer he loathed- all his characters were the SAME! Tim had to look twice to make sure he was reading them right when he read one character as 'big, tough, thick' and the next as 'tough, thick, big'-, and now he sat in this park feeding pidgins and generally feeling bad about himself. He didn't bother to touch the Sandwich, he wasn't really hungry, so he stretched out, but his hands behind his head, and looked into the sky, before blowing off a sigh. He didn't even feel like going jumping today, he just felt crumby- That was an utterly horrible pun and he knew it- and wanted someone to talk to. He didn't just need someone to talk to, what he really needed was good company, and the Pidgins just didn't help him with that. He grabbed another slice of the bread, and, with just a single, barely noticed, clench of his hand, turned the bread into crumbs and tossed it to the pidgins. The brown hair wig on his head swayed lightly in the wind- the best his money, and lack there-of could buy- and his fake green eyes looked into the sky, obviously avoiding the Sentry Statue.

The man once more nodded as thoughtfully as he could, flipping to a new page and beginning to scratch his pencil across the paper again, this time, however, it was fairly obvious he wasn't really focusing on it, because he had to stop several times and erase, and eventually got fed up and ripped the page out. He crumpled it up and was about to throw it on the ground, but he realized who he was talking to right before he did, so his arm did a swinging down motion, followed by pulling it right back up, and he chuckled nervously. "Sorry about that...I forget sometimes." he explained, hoping she wasn't offended. "It might take a while for me to get used to the idea that you don't have to just stop villains to be a Hero...it's not how I was taught." He muttered. "I was taught that a Hero only stops villains, but reading comics, reading about what people have done, I see it's more then that. It might take a long time, but I'll try my best, Ms. Fleur." He muttered, as the pencil scratched across the paper again. This one seemed better to him, and he nodded as he drew it. "What was your first Heroic Action, Ms. Fleur? Did you save some people from a collapsing building, or end a famine, or something like that?" He said, going silent once more, looking at the flowers around the woman's feet as the scratching of the pencil was replaced with the consistent sound of shading.

I'm thinking about making a very simple thread for any character in the PL 9-11 range, just a flat out 'Etc. etc. is going on, The heroes show up to stop it' . If you're interested in playing, you can offer. I'm not planning on using any named characters, just the templates from the book. If you are a higher PL and want to play, I'll do what I can to accommodate you, but I'm unsure. Candidates applying must also be accepting of a GM making a few mistakes and not having the best tactical planning ever for the villains. :? It'll probably be up once I get about 4 people, and I'll post where it is.

Nodding, Powerhouse smiled at the compliment, twisting it back around, he shut it and thought a bit more, the gears in his head still turning as fast as they could, though probably not too fast. "Thanks. Pretty much, I was mostly trying to figure out how the Shadows in the moon play off the buildings. Sometimes you have to... He got real quiet very fast, and changed his statement. "Yeah, I was out here sketching." he said, rubbing his head. The speaking of the Grue Invasion intrigued him, but he shook his head finally. He had been here for the Invasion, but he had refused to help others, because he did not want to be found out as a Superhero. He looked away from the Super-heroine as he spoke again, his voice a little lower then usual"No, I...wasn't here for the Invasion. I heard about it though. I felt really bad for the people, it was part of what made me decide to help people when I got here." He explained, as he thought more on the subject of helping in non-heroic ways. "I suppose that it could be very useful to have someone who can walk through a fire as a temporary Fireman, huh?" he said with a chuckle. "I'll try that next time, instead of just focusing on the Super Criminals. Sometimes you just have to stop a fire or lift a car or something, right?"

The man nodded thoughtfully as the pencil scratched across the paper and the plant came to life on the sheet. He did so enjoy individual drawings, when he got to do them, instead of the often cramped comic pages. Looking at the bulb in the rings on his book instead of on his page to get a better view, he finally spoke after some quiet. "I don't think it's too strange that you would do such a thing. A person who spends time with those similar to him always ended up growing faster then the ones who spent time with others of different power." He sounded like he was talking from experience, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "It could be a form of competition. who can advance faster? or something like that, that causes it, but it seems, excluding super-teams, that people work with others similar to them, for various reasons." he said, turning the book around and showing the completed drawing of the tulip to the green-haired woman. "How's it look?"

Nodding as the woman spoke, he filed away 'ArcheTech' and 'Doktor Archeville' in his head, Powerhouse watched as the woman put more plants into the ground. Even in the late fall, she put them into it, so it made him wonder about just how strong her powers were, when she was apparently causing flowers to bloom in fall and considered the fall a good planting time. Remaining silent on that subject, he slowly walked back to his book and picked it up, flipping to his next page, placing the tulip in the ringed binding so he didn't have to hold it, and went to drawing on his paper, even as he asked another question of the woman, his mechanical pencil floated across the page with a light scraping sound. "What about other Heroes? You mentioned the Doktor, but are there any others you would recommend me seeing? Not necessarily about just my powers, but about just plain being a Superhero, not that your advice was bad." He said quickly. "Its just that I like I like advice from many different sources, maybe someone you know has powers that are more similar to mine who could teach me about smarter ways to use them." he explained, attempting to avoid offending the more experienced Hero.

Powerhouse gave a small laugh as the Heroine admitted she had not stopped a bank robbery herself, and filed away telling his writer tomorrow that not every super-hero origin needs to start with them stopping a bank heist of some-kind. He stopped laughing as Fleur plucked a flower out of the ground, and instead went silent as he waited for her to explain what Cherubim had told him and repeated to him for a long time, but hadn't really sank in. Having it repeated by someone who wasn't in Yellow Forest made him believe it far more. Taking the flower in his hands gently, the blue-eyed man in his mid-twenties smiled at the tulip, holding it up in the moonlight over his head to examine it better, enjoying the way the yellow flower looked in the dark light and his hands, before returning it to his side, held lightly in his hands- and he cursed his lack of pockets while doing it- before contemplating for a bit. "I kinda get what you mean, but I don't really know where my powers come from. Do you know of someone who could help me with that? And while I'm on the discussion of that, I also have to ask about the other Heroes in this city. I've seen a few of them, but only from really far away. Which ones do you know, or that are your friends maybe?" He had drawn a few of them, but he knew the books he drew were not the best way to find information out about what a Superhero was, so maybe if he met a few more, he'd really understand. He knew he wanted to be a Superhero, and knew that meant helping people, but wasn't sure exactly what else it meant.

Shaking the woman's hand- and being careful not to use too much power- the blond-headed hero nodded as she stepped out. He knew this hero, now that he had seen her, and felt silly for asking his questions. Regardless, he wouldn't be put down by a tiny mistake, so he smiled and offered an Apology, the slightest tinge of red on his ears. "I am sorry, Ms. Fleur, I hope my lack of knowledge did not offend you." he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. As she brought up her powers versus his, the man nodded, his face obviously showing some gears working in his head- though not very fast-. "I know that my powers are good, I'm just, you know, Your powers have more substance, you know? I mean, just as a for-instance, if someone wrote a Comic Book about you, there's a hundred different things you could do, your powers would never get old. Mine are really simple though. I either lift things up and throw them at bad guys, or I punch bad guys really hard. I mean, I guess you can say I'm 'specialized', but I mean, I don't think that's a bad thing. I'm not some mopey guy!" He exclaimed. "I love my powers, and I love that I can help people! I'm not whiny about it, I'm just saying that, you know, it's really cool that you can do all the things you can do! I like just how different everyone's powers can be, I mean, there's tons of superheros, and everyone can have different powers, and still be effective!" he explained. Then he distinctly looked over his shoulder for a second, towards the monuments across the reservoir. "Everyone can do something, so I know that just because my powers are basic doesn't mean I can't do anything, that's what I mean." He finished, more serious. Powerhouse was silent for a time as he contemplated his next question, mulling the words over in his head before saying them slowly to make sure they came out right. "You've been a superhero for a really long time, so I was kind of wondering, what advice can you give to me? I know your powers are a lot different from mine, but, what general advice do you have, about everything really. Like, about how you manage to fit in time to be both a Hero and a Person- if you do that-, or about avoiding damaging stuff when you fight a villain, and anything like that, really. I'm like, really, really new at this, you know? I haven't even gotten to stop a Bank Robbery or anything." After all, didn't all Superheroes stop Bank robberies for their first job? The Centurion did, he knew that much, and he did look up to the man- then again, most people did.

The man had been distracted in his drawings, ignoring that someone had been wandering, the same as him, he supposed, around this place at this time, but upon looking around, he did see the woman, but he wasn't sure he saw what she was doing, or at least saw it correctly. Standing up and placing the book down on the ground, making sure to close it so the contents could not be seen, he walked towards the woman, not attempting to be threatening, his arms dangling on the side as he stepped closer to her. As he looked closer, he was actually surprised that his mind was not making things up, the Woman was actually making plants! Rolling through his mind what characters he had done, he determined he had yet to draw such a character. stepping closer, he looked her costume up and down, and then looked at the plants. "That's...really cool." He said, smiling. "Are you a superhero?" He asked, in wonder of someone being able to control plants, he had never seen someone who could do that in action before. Maybe he'd read about them or drawn the Green Man a time or two, but he'd never actually seen someone making plants grow in real life, it was a first time experience, and he was very excited."Do you have a name? Like, a Superhero Name, I mean. Do you do this every night? Do you stop villains too, or do you just help the plants grow? That's a pretty awesome power, all I can do is lift things and jump, but yours is so much cooler." He brought question after question to the woman, like a child tasting a new piece of candy for the first time, and even as he asked the questions he knew he should probably tone back on them, so he eased off, slowly slipping back into quiet with only a statement of his name. "I'm Powerhouse, by the way, one word, lower-case h." He skipped over the fact he was new, having already seemed strange enough in his eyes, and promised to himself to fix it when he got a chance.

OOC thread for This It's open, but I don't plan on any fighting.

It's really cold... floated through Powerhouse's head as he drifted through the air in the dark sky, his Blue spandex and silver collars bright, and contrasting heavily with the old brown backpack over his shoulder, covering several miles in a single bound, before coming down on a rooftop. Crossing his arms in front of his bare chest, even the glinting silver on his wrists was chilled to the touch. He spared a look down at the building he landed on, and was pleased to discover little damage, even physically, on the large structure. He was getting even better at the landing thing, his first jump had almost collapsed the roof by accident. Uncrossing his arms, he looked out over the city. For most people that looked at him, he would look to be a superhero on patrol, one they had never seen before, sure, but that wasn't so strange in this city, but he wasn't. Powerhouse was, tonight, looking for inspiration, while simultaneously getting used to the idea that half his live had just become devoted to helping people. His backgrounds on his stories had become very dull to him lately, and he wasn't good at night backgrounds, so he had suited up for the first time, out of his apartment, around 11PM that night, and gone jumping to really *see* how the dark interacted with the way people and buildings look in the dark, and how much collateral damage all his jumping from place to place would get him charged for, but he hadn't expected it to be this cold, and he wondered why he didn't get a shirt for his outfit, before he pointed out to himself that the shirt could get caught up or ripped easier then the pants. Shrugging off his own questions, he saw with a start that he was actually near the Freedom City park! There was no place better to see the shadows dancing off plants, so, with a massive bound, he leaped off the building and headed towards the ground to the park, enjoying the wind on his uncovered face. That was something that most superheroes who wore masks wouldn't get to have, but because Powerhouse did all his hiding in his Normal Identity, he got to feel the wind across his face as he jumped, got to let it tussle his hair. There were also bad things about that, but he didn't linger on those, they were less fun. With a loud enough crash, Powerhouse landed on the Sidewalk next to the entrance of Freedom Park, on the side near the Hunter Museum of Natural History- which he had been studying earlier without realizing it- buckling the concrete and sending small bits into the air. "I got distracted." he said, stepping out of the mini-hole his feet had sank into and into the park. For all his attempts to be quiet this night, a man wandering around bare-chested in blue spandex stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of all the darkened greenery, and Powerhouse wasn't exactly trying to sneak around. His booted feet trudged along the 52th Avenue path for several minutes, taking the time to look at everything around him with the eye of a comic artist, seeing how they connected to each other, everything at an Angle. After enough of that walking, he hit the edge of the reservoir, where the road curved around it. Stepping off the road, he walked to the shore of the reservoir and picked up a small rock at the edge of it. He knew the Hero's Knoll was across the reservoir, and he didn't want to hit that, so he twisted slightly to the side, and, with a twist of his wrist, sent the rock skittering across the surface of the reservoir. He exhaled as he lost track of it, dropping his bag on the ground, and sat down on the bank next to it. "I wonder if it went all the way across the water." He said, curling his arms around his legs and resting his chin on them as he watched the water, half-studying it, half-thinking. After a bit, he uncurled his arms and pulled a notebook out of his bag, page after page of it covered in sketches and drawings of Heroes, Villains, and Backgrounds. Turning to a clean page, he began to draw the reservoir as he saw it, sitting on the bank at night, his pencil drawing lines, then erasing them, not focusing on the individual line, but instead on the end result, and considering how he would get to that.

I had changed them as Chosen, but I didn't want to cause confusion right away when I started talking about something that wasn't there. The name is The Chosen, unless it needs to be changed again, I had simply left it as Greek to show that i was talking about them.

The first part was talked about and changed, but for notice and check for others, it's because they are what the chains were hooked to, and I have changed the names of both the group and the people themselves into something hopefully less taken after- this was my fault for not checking profiles first-. GentiCorp is ran by your general Well-intentioned Extremist company run by a guy who wants to save the world but can't, and isn't worried about killing a few kids to get it done- which is a dime a dozen back story, but not a bad one-. The Greeks/their new name are serving the group because, while they could be super-heroes, they also want there to be a Superhero in every city, or even every town, if there could be, all across the world. Sure they are all pretty powerful, but that's a far cry from that many heroes. As for what they are, they are simply Super Powered people, none of them have the same back story and each one has different powers- something I accidentally cut out of the history as being unimportant-, and figure that, instead of running around saving people by themselves, they'll just make sure there's plenty of Heroes in the future. The reason they chained him up instead of nullifying his powers is because they weren't sure where the came from. I imagined it as each nullifier only working on one type of their powers, I.E; a nullifier from the gravity controller couldn't be used to nullify the powers of the alien genetics- if they could be negated anyway, as they would be part of the person itself and not a special power-, and they didn't want to risk their greatest prospect developing a sudden case of Exploding Head syndrome because they were unsure what sticking two nullifiers on a person would do; beyond that, it's also a bit of an insult. 'We don't HAVE to nullify your powers, these chains and Our Heroes are enough to prevent you from leaving.' failed to note Superstrength lower on, the math corrects itself to what is noted this is probably my flimsiest justification, but the idea was that this school wasn't like that. They were severely censored in what they learned, and didn't have to survive. The school's entire focus was teaching them how to use their powers and increasing Physical capabilities. I suppose it's not really a military school that way in the strictest sense, but it was more the analogue of them waking up early, doing an exact, repetitive, schedule, day after day. An additional idea is that he just didn't want to learn what they were teaching. It's the same way that teachers will complain 'I can't teach this child, he doesn't want to learn!' was what Powerhouse did. He didn't openly not pay attention, but he tried his best to avoid learning anything he could. OOC explanation is lack of points Math Error, Corrected, this was listed as 10 but counted as 11 at the bottom calculation, I failed to change it when I added the new feat I did indeed to give him Super-Strength, I simply fail at even copying stuff from one screen to the other. It has been added. Other features have been noted and I realize I'll spend 3 rounds in the air when I jump. It is a weakness from the gene-donor, but his weakness is more draining. I didn't put it in the fluff because, honestly, I forgot to.

I apologize, it missed my inspection. I have corrected it to list just Wisdom

That was my head thinking one thing while my hands put down something else. I've edited it to be the second (moderate) weakness. I apologize.

Players Name:Flare_knight1 Characters Name:Powerhouse Power Level: 11 (161/161PP) Trade-Offs: -5 Attack / +5 Damage, -4 Defense / +4 Toughness Unspent PP: 0 Progress to Bronze Status: 11/30 In Brief: A 'new' Hero with little control of his powers on the run from the person whose DNA was used to give his powers. They Hunt him, so he never stays long after helping, not wishing to be caught on Camera. Alternate Identities: Tim C. Tricoas Identity: Secret Birthplace: a Far-Off town in the New York area Occupation: Comic-Book Artist Affiliations: Castle Comics Family: None around Age: 22 (DoB: December 25, 1987) Apparent Age: 22 Gender:Male Ethnicity: White Height: 6'0 Weight: 165 LBS Eyes: Blue Hair: Blond (Brown in Normal) Description: Powerhouse is, for his name that implies someone built like a mansion, relatively tiny and thin. When he isn't Super-Heroing, he usually wears a long jacket with the collar turned up, a dark shirt, and jeans with a pencil resting on his left ear. He has long brown Hair, and simple Brown eyes that are happy enough, but usually look distant. When he goes out and does Heroics, he removes the brown Wig, showing his shorter blond hair, and removes the contacts that turn his eyes from Brown to blue. He drops the jacket and shirt, and changes into a pair of blue Spandex Pants instead of his Jeans. When in Superhero Clothing, or not wearing the Jacket, six collars can be seen on him, one on his neck, one on each wrist, one around his waist, and one on each ankle. These appear completely ornamental on a single glance, and even a concentrated look at them shows them as nothing but normal, just an ornament, Power Descriptions: All of his Powers are based on the Genetics of one of the seven people known as 'The Chosen'. Regardless, his Physical Strength and Endurance are Tremendous, and his Skin is extremely tough. His running speed is purely based on putting one foot in front of the other, so he doesn't actually know how to use his speed. Unknown to him and anyone else who doesn't have experience in such things, due to the circumstances of how he gained is powers, it is an Anti-gravity field stretched taunt over his skin with almost no leakage, forming almost a second layer of skin, that gives him his powers. History: To say that Powerhouse’s Parents were lucky is, word-wise, true, but it’s like saying someone whose house was on fire was lucky it was in foreclosure. His parents, entered a lottery for expecting mothers, that they would be treated with great care in exchange for signing a few small papers, sponsored by a small corporation named GenecticCorp. They won, and when the child was born, the contract bit them. The stipulations stated that if the child was born healthy, it had to be put up for adoption in a special facility, owned by GeneticCorp. Unknown to anyone, GCorp had a team of superheroes they used for research, called The Chosen. The Chosen never fought, and was never even known to exist. They were born, and then trained extensively until their powers reached their absolute maximums, and that was it. These people were drained of their DNA, of their own will, and it was then implanted into the bodies of those women who had won the lottery. Any child who came out wrong was left, and any good child was taken by GCorp. The Corp itself is unsure as to which child has whose DNA, as all 7 are placed inside a subject’s body at differing intervals. As the children came to them, they were tested for their abilities. Those who were quickly identified as having powers based on one of The Chosen were shunted into a training camp where they received more injections of that The Chosen’s DNA while learning to use their powers. Those who had powers but could not be identified had their abilities narrowed down to three of The Chosen, then they were locked up as roughly normal children, while being given the DNA of all three likely candidates. This had a higher death rate then the training camps. Those that survived this, eventually, displayed only a single set of powers, and were sent to join their peers, being education wise at the same level; they only had to work to make their powers better. However, one child, survived the triple injection phase without showing only one power. This child was limited down to just two possible powers, either he was a Cherubim, or, he was empowered by Metatron. Metatron’s DNA had resulted in no viable test subjects, for while students had, at times, shown those traits, they always died rapidly. To have even a single Metatron-based child so stubborn to cling to life would be a stroke of incredible fortune. So instead they kept him in a single area, a personal School, and trained him. He slept with the others, walked with the others, even if he didn’t make many friends, but his education was different. He almost always had classes by himself, for he had spent 10 years in the orphanage, while most children only stayed for 5, so he was very much behind, and his lessons on his powers were often taught by The Chosen themselves. The reasoning for this was because of his lack of connection. Gcorp was not foolish, and they knew they had to stimulate him with friends somehow. Instead of faceless army instructors who changed day by day, The Chosen were constant companions to him, people with faces- if odd names- who showed up once a week and taught him how to use his powers- if they could-, and just helped him with work otherwise. There was also a naming problem. Most of the children, received generic names with a number. For example, however, the double child had nothing to grow off of, so they couldn’t name him. He was nameless for a long time, just referred to as ‘Hey, Kid’ or ‘You’, for several years, until, one day, Metatron heard something massive scraping along the ground, and then rushed to see what happened, the child had the building over his head, preparing to drop it back into place. As she took it off his hands and placed it back, she remarked ‘The Kid’s a powerhouse…’. Upon receiving the report of the incident, it was decided they would stick with his name of Powerhouse, as nothing else really fit him. However, the child was not fit to be in a military school, not necessarily because he was a bad student, but because he was not built for captivity. So, one day, he left. He got 15 miles out of Yellow Forest, and then Principality appeared out of nowhere and punched him so hard he flew back into the school. That was the end of his freedom. That very day, he was chained up in his six collars, and chained to a wall. He hung there daily, only lowered to eat and study. Then, several years later, on his 23rd birthday, when Powerhouse was more skilled, he ran. This time, he was not stupid enough to be seen. He leaped straight over Yellow Forest in a single jump, and kept jumping. He didn’t know where to go, and he didn’t know who to turn to, so he just jumped. Every now and then, he stopped in a city for a few days, but with no money, he was just a homeless bum. He also couldn’t stay long, because The Chosen was after him, and with Principality AND Metatron, they could cover large distances in a single day. It was on one of these stop-overs that he found out about Freedom city, his information about other heroes having been heavily censored. A city where Superheroes abounded, somewhere he could hide, maybe even in plain sight, and maybe finally get away from The Chosen. He didn’t realize they found him until he had fallen off the highway into the water below. The next hours were a blur, until Powerhouse landed in a dumpster, beat to a pulp, and collapsed as the sun was rising on the horizon. The only reason Powerhouse was found was because, after the dumpster began to compact, he broke it, and the smoke rising from it alerted a nearby man that evening that something was wrong. Pulling Powerhouse from the wrecked dumpster, he considered dropping him off at Freedom Medical Center, but Powerhouse’s insistence in the moments he was conscious dissuaded him from doing so. The man instead took him home, and took care of him when he wasn’t at work at Castle Comics. On the seventh day that the man had brought Powerhouse into his home, he entered after work to find the Hero scribbling away on paper. They were highly detailed drawings, mostly of cars, but some included finely detailed people and others. The man left him alone, and Powerhouse went back to sleep for two more days right afterward. Powerhouse, two days after his first drawings, awoke again. He found the man’s computer unlocked, however, and, opening his written files, found page after page of comic book story-lines and dialogue. Taking a pencil and some paper, Powerhouse began to draw these characters and dialogue, his hand flying across the paper as the characters written of and their interactions went from words on a page to real comics, not just drawings on a page. He did not color them, but he worked throughout the day, and when the man came home that night, he found Powerhouse sitting at a table, several issues of completed comics around him. Surprisingly for Powerhouse, the man did not tell him to get out. Instead, he looked through the issues, and smiled. He offered to help Powerhouse get a job at the company, and Powerhouse accepted, knowing he would need money, however, he specified to the man that he would have to disguise himself, though he did not reveal why, and the man agreed, getting him a long brown wig and contacts, as well as a jacket to hide his collars. Hired as an Artist under the name Tim C. Tricoas, Powerhouse/Tim made his money by drawing comics of people he’d never heard of despite their existence, and fully intended to never reveal his superpowers; after all, it would just cause The Chosen to return. It’s hard to say what exactly spurred Powerhouse to enter the Super Hero museum that day, however, there, among the statues and items of those who, at possibly this very instant, fought for everyone who didn’t have powers, and for people like him, who refused to use them, Powerhouse could only feel worthless. In an attempt to escape from what he thought were their glaring eyes and judgments, he wandered into the Hall of Honor. In this dark hall, Powerhouse stared up at the statue of a man who had given his life for this city without fear, a man named the Centurion. It was not just him, however. Every step he took down this hall, he was shown a person who was better than he was, a person who had near the same problems he did, and, instead of running from them, they stood tall, and never backed down. He had never heard of any of these heroes, he had never been told of such a man as the Centurion, of any of them, and to him, it was all new. Sure, he might have drawn them a time or two, but he never really cared about what the adventures themselves were, and he certainly never read the comics. Drawing the comics about these heroes was just so he could get paid and go on with his life, but standing in that hall with the faces of those who had never given up even when their last breath was taken, he felt like a fool for running away from using his powers for good, no matter what. Sighing loudly, Powerhouse contemplated his life. Sure, maybe he wasn’t the best at this Superhero stuff, sure, maybe no one was really sure where his powers came from, heck, he might not really ever be as worthwhile a hero as anyone in this museum, and he surely would never be as good as those in this particular Hall, but, as he stood there, he realized that, really, all he had ever wanted was probably just to be a superhero, instead of a superhero in training, and even if that wasn’t what he wanted, that he had been given an incredible gift, and to not use it was just wrong. Taking on what he knew about superhero costumes, he made his own, took it up as a moniker of his own making- or close enough- and decided to see what all this ‘superheroing’ was really about. He might be a little unsure, but he’s got a good heart, or good enough, and has determination to see things through, even if he’s a bit worried that The Chosen will find him again. Personality & Motivation: Powerhouse is a nice guy, and always welcome to talk, but also rushes when fighting, particularly when he's worried about News Crews or other things showing up- in these cases, he can become severely agitated if he's constantly tied down and incapable of finishing what he set out to do quickly enough for him. When he's out of public eye or in his Civilian Identity, he's much friendlier and easy going. His Motivation is Goodness Powers & Tactics: Powerhouse might be strong, and he might have received 'training' on how to be a Hero, but it was substandard at best, and he's not exceptionally bright. He knows how to control his powers, but not how to be particularly smart in their applications. He's more likely to settle any problem with his Fists then his brain, and is all too willing to jump into battle at a moment's notice. If he's confronted by a situation where he can't use his powers, or it's something that's not in his forte, he's likely to wait and see what someone else can come up with, before attempting to just batter down whatever the obstruction is, be it a Bureaucrat or a Deathtrap. Complications: Secret Identity Who would imagine that Mild-mannered Comic Book Artist Tim C. Tricoas is also the superhero Powerhouse!? Anyone who can do anagrams is probably suspicious. Enemies The Chosen, all 7 of them, would love nothing more then, depending on which one it is, kill Powerhouse, or drag him back to Yellow Forest. And it's fully within their power to do so, as any one of them could completely overwhelm the novice Hero Abilities: 10 + 0 + 10 + 0 + 0 + 0 = 20PP Strength 20/42 (+5/+16) Dexterity 10 (+0) Constitution 20/32 (+5/+11) Intelligence 10 (+0) Wisdom 10 (+0) Charisma 10 (+0) Combat: 6 + 12 = 18PP Initiative: +4 Attack: +3, +5 melee Grapple: +10, +32 with powers Defense: +6 (+6 Base, +0 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -2/-12, -15 with Immovable Saving Throws: 2 + 4 + 7 = 13PP Toughness: +5/+15 (+5/+11 Con, +4 Protection), Impervious 10 Fortitude: +7/+13 (+5/+11 Con, +2) Reflex: +4 (+0 Dex, +4) Will: +7 (+0 Wis, +7) Skills: 28R = 7PP Craft (Artistic) 4 (+4) Diplomacy 6 (+6) Intimidate 6 (+6) Notice 5 (+5) Sense Motive 7 (+7) Feats: 12PP All-out Attack Attack Focus [melee] 2 Improved Grab Improved Initiative Improved Pin Luck (2) Power Attack Quick Change Startle Ultimate Save (Toughness) Powers: 22 + 12 + 10 + 10 + 10 + 4 + 26 = 94PP Enhanced Strength 22 (Superhuman Strength, manipulating Gravity into making him stronger) [22pp] Enhanced Constitution 12 (Superhuman Constitution, manipulating Gravity to make him more resilient) [12pp] Immunity 10 (all environmental effects [cold, heat, pressure, radiation, vacuum], Fatigue effects) [10pp] Impervious Toughness (Superhuman Toughness, using Gravity to deflect even attacks that land) [10pp] Movement Array 4 (8 points; PF: 2 Alternate Powers) [10PP] Base Effect: Leaping 8 (x500 distance, 12,500'/2.3 miles per leap) [8/8PP] Alternate Effect: Speed 2 (25 MPH / 250' per Move action) [2PP] & Immovable 3 (Extra: Unstoppable) [6PP] [2+6=8/8PP] Alternate Power: Flight 4 (100 MPH / 1000' Move Action) (Removing Gravity's hold on him, Gravity) [8PP] Protection 4 (More superhuman Toughness, and just being able to shrug off hits) [4pp] Super-Strength 11 ( Heavy Load 6,400 tons Feats:Bracing, Groundstrike, Shockwave, 1 Alternate Power[ b]) (Using Gravity for Superhuman Strength, Gravity) [26PP] Alternate Power: Telekinesis 24(Effective Strength 120, Heavy Load 200k tonsExtras: Area (Targeted), Selective Flaws: Action (Full), Side-Effect (-2, Nauseate 12 Linked with Stun 12), Feats: Subtle) (Manipulating the Gravity of other Objects, Gravity) [25PP] Drawbacks: 2 + 0 + 0 = 2pp Weakness (Powerhouse's general brain waves drop significantly when in areas of high magnetic frequency; Frequency:Uncommon, Strong Magnetic Fields]; Intensity: Moderate (Wis Drain), every 5 minutes) [-3pp] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed [no powers] Touch DC 19 Toughness (Staged) Damage Unarmed [with powers] Touch DC 30 Toughness (Staged) Damage Abilities (20) + Combat (18) + Saving Throws (13) + Skills (7) + Feats (12) + Powers (94) - Drawbacks (3) = 161/161pp