BAD OMENS - Glass Houses

Personality and history - Glem is a strange young man. Always saying the most out of the box things people might here with a straight face, and sometimes even a devilish smile on his face. Usually found by himself, it would be hard to tell what this does and likes. His neighbors would call him elusive saying that he's the type to either be home all the time or outside all the time. He enjoys both doing each for long periods of time. His few friends known to the public would say he rarely hangs out, but is always there when you need him, making the friendship seem like a one sided thing. Most people would call him an overall good guy who has little responsibilities, but might be the most responsible person they know. No one knows what he does for a living, if anything, and that may be the one reason they don't know him that well. Glem has the rare personality trait that you can't find just by asking anyone, even his closest relatives. If you were to ask these people and then met the man on a random day, you might feel as if you were lied to, or that everything said above was right.

The truth is, Glem is a nice person. He's caring, honest, and may even do selfless acts sometimes. However, this is not all there is to Glem.
"Do doing good things, trying to care about people, and helping others when you can make you a good person?"
A question always on the man's mind. He has had more time to think about this than the majority of working citizens in Cacophony. Having no job and cutting himself off from the world to determine why he can't seem to get rid of certain hateful thoughts. His childhood wasn't the best, but it was nowhere close to the closest of the worst. He acknowledges that fully. Though when he expressed that he still feels some anger towards the world... or people...... or himself? of course his parents blamed him for being ungrateful. Things like "What have we done to you to make you feel that way?" or "You seem to be ungrateful for the sacrifices we made." came out of their mouths so easily without understanding that it wasn't anything in particular that got him to feel that way.
"What if deep down inside, I'm just bidding my time. At any moment, I can snap and lose control. At that time, it won't matter because it'll be too late. I can't let this go on any further."

Before he graduated from high school, Glem thought joining the military would calm him down. Make him, "less of kid as his father decided to keep calling him."
"I love you father, but every time you keep saying that, it confuses me and I can't stop it from pounding."
"Count to ten and you'll feel better."
Counting to ten is what everyone says to do. Doctors, parents, teachers. "They obviously know nothing of what real rage is like." This was how he felt, because every time he tried counting, it was more like a countdown to his own eruption. Glem was going to put all his hopes on the military to give him a release. The main thing bothering him was only that he didn't know what to do after high school. The doctors and his parents said it was common for kids, so this is just what he needed right?

"Right?!"

It was a weird thing. One little pull of a trigger 2 years after joining the military and he could throw his whole life away and someone else's. He caught himself staring down at a fellow brother of his. Someone he would legitimately call brother with all his being. Someone he could go to and vice versa for anything. So why did the thought of killing him just run through his mind. He took the loaded magazine out of the gun and through it as hard as he could in the sand, following by throwing his gun against the vehicle causing an uproar that woke up the whole platoon.
"This anger hurts so much. I can feel it in my bones. In my blood. If I can't let it out, then what am I supposed to do with it."
He was let out on medical sometime after that occasion with what the military would call "their finest doctors" who like most doctors didn't know what the hell they were talking about unless you could find it in a book. His case wasn't just some disease. He wasn't even sure if they knew what they were talking about when they said it was a mental disorder. A chemical imbalance? Then why can't the meds set him on track. Each one, each for a different thing. Voices, which were just his uncontrollable thoughts that didn't produce any sound. Delusions. Illusions. Sleep deprivation. You could name it and had it. He never took something that would make him a vegetable, because that was never his goal when he asked for help. All he wanted to do, was be able to be in society as a working member and not have to worry about killing someone on an impulse. It only took one second. One movement. He even thought about how fast he could do it in multiple ways. Humans were so fragile.
"I do, but I don't. Do I? Maybe I'm just lying to myself. Maybe I actually do want to take out everything within me on someone who has it better. Even someone who has it worse might do. . . But, I know I'm going to regret. Not because of being sent to prison. Heck, I've already imprisoned myself in this room. I know it's not because I might end up dead either, because if I cared about that, I wouldn't speed when I drive or go to places that would make most people turn around. Plus that was one of things I suppose I was hoping for when I joined the military. Then I suppose I would regret it because deep down I don't want to do it. So, should I just kill myself then?"

A lot of thoughts raced through his head from the time he left the militia till the time he moved out of his parents house for the last time. He thought of reasons for every thought he had. Every adrenaline rush his body randomly gave him. He also thought over the control of one's self and impulses. For years he cut himself off from everything, not even inviting a woman into his life pondering the difference between good and evil. He studied known serial killers, crime lords, and empires under strict dictatorships and found that there wasn't a simple answer. He couldn't find an answer.

"Then I'll just stop thinking so hard about it. From now on, I'll do what I want and regret it later if the time comes."

So he moved out, feeling like it was safe to be away from his old man, the only person who he could rely on to cease his rage should he lose control and went to live by himself for the first time. Something which was more clearing than anything. He could spend days in his apartment without anyone bothering. No loose thoughts about people. Though being a shut-in was getting boring, so he decided to hang out with his father and even friends on occasion. The anger was there, but it was more somber. One could say it was the boredom of his normal meaningless life. He couldn't see anything that he could do that would make it any less meaningless. There were a lot of jobs he could have, given the fact that his career background was straight and most jobs couldn't dive into your medical history. However, with everything open to him, he knew that all these were wasted on him. Even if he took them, he'd be fired eventually for snapping.
"No point in chancing things I already know the outcome to."

He settled from being a husk that wears a mask of happiness around those who should have been the ones to know the most about him. It keeps them happy, thinking he's okay. It keeps them happy thinking he's going to get somewhere in life that he knows he never going to get, for it's not even appealing even more. They were happy and he was feeling even more distain towards them. The same people who said it was selfish for him to take HIS own life, were the ones who were most happy when he was alive and in pain. How ironic he thought. Still, he never brought it up in conversation, for he learned in order to win an argument today you'd have to have a whole book chapter worth of dialogue to make them understand. So for him this was as good as it was going to get. The only thing he kind of wanted was not to be alone all the time and also to be able to do something that wouldn't make his life a waste. He pondered, if even the lowest of human scum could say their life was worth something, then what did it make him and decided he was worse than scum. Worse off than pig slaughter. Even a pile of foot-tracked dog shit was better than him. Even with convincing himself that all this was true, he still yearned for more.

"I was wondering myself what took you so long."

He knew better than to believe that this guy in the black coat, who seemed nice enough for a drug dealer who was offering him wishes, was his message from god that he was asking for, but he took it anyway thinking that it was different and it was definitely not something he heard about everyday or once in his life for that matter. Well, except for his father's conspiracy on how crack was introduced, but that's something he rather not waste his time thinking about.

He was introduced to the tournament of souls just like the other young men, women, children, and few elderly. They told him of the stakes and of the prizes and even though he could feel a chill of fear in his stomach, the rest of his body was burning with excitement.
"Finally. I can let it out, and see for myself if it's going to kill me or empower me."

Like most starters he didn't know much about how to awaken his soul form. Nothing, not even anger seemed to trigger it. It seemed like he was just going to die against whoever he went against. He was timid, but having never died before he decided that there wasn't anything to be afraid of. He was willing to do something he had never done before and regret it later now that he was older. Especially since this was something new. He supposed only a few people in the world could even do what he was about to do.

Time went fast leading up to his first match against a stocked member. Stocked members, as he recalled weren't veterans, but people who have been in the tournament longer than the new batches. This made him worry a little but the person he was up against seemed to take pity on new people. He showed him his power first and his limbs burst into flames that soon turned into a flaming twin headed dragon. This turned out not to be his ability as the flame changed forms multiple times revealing a new flame every time. He had the power to become fire itself. There was no way that he could be broken then. Whatever his power turned out to be, Glem didn't have to worry anymore. So he used the feeling of fear and turned it into anger. Anger that everything he did in life, every single inconsequential thing, had led up to this moment. He was going to die a deserving way for a person who would think the things he did. By burning.

"Yeah right. How can you kill me by burning me when I was burning this whole time. You just couldn't see it. You think you have the right to burn. You who could possibly find an escape in this cold useless world inside yourself, when I can't go nowhere to have peace. Heh." His words filled with anger ended with a chuckle when he stared at the flame with red bloodshot eyes. "You think, what you are right now even declares as burning?"

His taunt and the look in his eyes alerted his foe that he was about to unleash his soul, so he attacked trying to end it as soon as it happened, most likely trying not to kill him, by attacking him while he was incapable of transforming. Glem still didn't transform as he let his head swell up with similar thoughts of his past and how his enemy in front of him thought he had the right to take a life that even Glem didn't have the right to have. He couldn't feel himself slowly molding into the ground from the heat of his emotions, but he felt he knew what to do.

He let loose a tired sigh, breathed in and heavily breathed out making low growl in his voice, almost as if he was pushing a heavy object or releasing a weight off his shoulders. What happened next seemed to make little sense to the non science savvy viewers.

For one, at first glance it looked like his power was just to mimic his enemies, since a whirlwind of fire instantaneously formed around him pushing away the flame serpent which turned back into a humanoid flame. That would be at first glance, however, to the keen eye one could tell that Glems flames were different. While his opponents flames were wild and violent, Glem had full control of his flame, making them wrap around themselves to look more thick, almost like pure lava. They were more smoother than his enemies who's bodily flames were twisting and flowing towards the sky. Glem imagined his enemy would have a hot temper and he did, but Glem hadn't even begun to get mad. He was quite calm and mostly surprised that his inner fire was visible. However, it didn't seem the same. He could always feel the heat from the inside. So, the fact that he couldn't feel them outside meant that they weren't high enough yet.

He ignored his enemy who cursed him for just copying him and calling him a chicken for even having to shield himself with his flames. Glem caught onto that last bit and relaxed his mood as best he could getting rid of the flames. "Fine then. Try to burn me." His challenge made the man in front of him flame erupted into a darker more violent red plasma and triggered his opponent to rush him. He was going to burn his face and his whole body when given the choice, and Glem knew that was his intention. Still he decided that if he was wrong and the man's fire was hotter than his then he didn't deserve to use the power anyway. He'd just be another copy.

The humanoid figure of fire reached for Glems face, covering it in flames comparable to the heat of cauldron fire. It laughed, releasing breath of fire towards his body which burned most of his clothes and let out a howling roar as it engulfed Glems naked body in fire, turning his body into black hardened ash. As the flamed entity tried to meltdown the ash, instead it kept getting harder and harder turning into a black statue of the man. The fires extinguished and the only thing seen from the audience was a blinding flash as the red flames began to be slowly eaten by blue flames that viewers of the fight could even feel like if the sun was burning them on a 120 degree day. The heat began to rise higher and higher making the crowd run away in terror of catching fire. Everything within the 45 meter area of Glem was burned and recovering with sizzling smoke. Glem remained in the middle in his soul form, grinning and smoking himself. He finally felt on the outside the embodiment of his anger and was finally able to share the pain.
"As I thought. Not everyone can live with the heat."
This was all he had to say on killing his first challenger.

From then on it was rare to see that form and even rarer for him to go far enough to kill another. People's views on him quickly changed and they realized he was just like them. Though, there seemed to be something different. He seemed hungry. Hungry for more of something. No one had any idea what, but he'd agree as well with them. He was hungry. This was a hunger he couldn't feel by eating even until he puked his insides. It was a question of what he could do to change the world. He could share the gift of this power with others. He could let them the world know of this and he could lead the people who realize their true selves toward something better than this. Something better than a tournament for cheap money and threats of death if you lose. So he slowly got some team mates and soon a gang of individuals who weren't going to ever have to die do to losing their soul points. Each of them put their money into the city's streets and got control of most of what happens in the underground. His ambitions are much broader than just some drug money or the millions they make off of it. He wanted full control of not only the city, but the world if possible. It seemed like a goal that wasn't achievable.
"Well, who cares."
He decided that it wasn't for him anymore that he moved or got up in the morning. It was for his team. For the lost souls who don't want to die, but don't want to live in the world as it was. For them he would truly do anything, but only for them.

He's ruthless to his enemies and in the streets it all depends on where he's at, for most that do have something bad to say about him that could compromise his persona while he's with normal's usually end up dead. He keeps with the rules and doesn't show his power to people, or burn anyone alive. However, he is the type to make a person go missing as if whipped out of existence and is as ruthless to his enemies as he was on his first battle.
"No evidence, no case."



Occupation - Disabled Vet on paper and crime lord off the record
Weapon of choice - Martial arts

Soul form


In his soul form Glem gets tattoos of blue flames that sometimes shine with his fire. His hair gets longer and turns blue. Other than that there isn't that much between his soul form and himself besides the increase of muscle mass. In this form his whole body feels comfortably warm showing the extent of his inner burn he's releasing. He hasn't been able to burn himself in this form, but is constantly trying to reach higher degrees so he can feel the pain in true form.

Authors opinion on soul form: I'm not sure on this one. The tattoos could be the personification of his inner flames branded on his skin so that people can see them visibly upon him, but I wonder why it doesn't cover his whole body. Then again, he doesn't feel like his inner flame is show that good, since the composes hurt him and holding them back hurts even more, but the flames he makes feels warm to him while their strong enough to engulf other flames. Definitely hotter than lave, but I'm not sure he's hit the suns level of heat yet.




Reason why you accepted the "gift" and entered the tournament

Nothing else in life seemed more important than saying yes to this opportunity. From it he wishes to change the world in anyway possible.
Main them that describes your person to a T if possible
Battle theme. Anything you think is bad ass that compliments character
Relationships TBA
Likes - Watching documentaries (great way to not make mistakes of the past), watching crime shows about actual cases (a better way to not repeat the mistakes of something less than a decade ago), chilling(Who knows what he means when he says this, just expect not to see him for a while)
dislikes- Politicians, rich people who don't do anything to help the world, but seem to have a lot to say on the matter of helping the world, poor people who think they need to resort to violence in order to move out of the struggle, people who make lives hard for people who do nothing, but mind their business and just try to live.
Strengths - His strong will
His calm manner around people who aren't calm
Charismatic
weaknesses - His team members
His frequent need to do the right thing for the right people
His patience
Flaws character wise - Doesn't track time well. Always gets the date and year wrong and don't even ask him what time it is. He's also really elusive which is good because it keeps the cops and the Soul killers off his back.