((So yeah. :-). You can start with yours getting the assignment, if you'd like.))

Aula looked at the school building from her perch in the high limb and sighed. Not too long ago there had been a bombing. An organized one with five different blasts. Organized by who, she waa unsure, but the cops would catch up with them in the end, even if she herself didn't. Aula herself was more of a hands-on kind of person, in no way an investigator. On that note, she was luckily able to get most of the students and staff at Chaplin Intermediate School out safely. Unfortunately some had perished before she had a chance to arrive. She pushed a lock of hair from her face. The ambulances had arrived the children were gone. She stood in her black jumpsuit, having just completed an interview (a private one, of course) with the local police chief. Aula was getting quite famous of late. Some considered her a genuine superhero, like Marvel and all that shizazz. Her usual black jumpsuits had become swmiiconic themselves, even though that's not not the reason she wore them - they were just damn practical! Once sure no one was looking, she dashed behind the building, into town. Finally she slowed from her mile per second run, walking down the sidewalk. She was aware of the eyes of many were locked on her and her tattered jumpsuit. But she didnt mind. Just another typical day.

Washington DC

Director Micheal Kelter was not a frequent visitor of the DC branch for B.E.G. E. incorporated, the Bio-engineering and Genetic Enhancement Corporation. He had only recently been promoted as a branch manager after his own boss was “let go.” Of course, everyone knew that being “let go” was the kind term for disappearing permanently, so asking for advice would be out of the question. As such, he was heading to DC, without knowledge of what would go on, only hoping that he wouldn’t be finding himself in a similar position as his boss did.
But how did he get to this point, how did this man find himself now heading a singular branch out in Colorado researching the potentials for the human genome. Of course, he had some idea, something about a subject escaping and all that, but the details were all hush-hush. Besides, that was around five years ago and if anything, he’d probably be the one informed about all this.
Thus, when he stepped into the designated room, Mr. Kelter did not feel much fear when he sat down in the comfy chair. Across the small coffee table from him was a man that held a newspaper over his face. Oh my, how long had this man been waiting. Needless to say, Micheal needed to alert the man to his presence.
But before Micheal could say a word, the man’s voice reverberated through . . . some sort of mask.
“. . . name . . .”
Micheal froze. The voice was guttural and disturbingly skin-crawling. Now that he was fully at attention, he could also hear a heavy breathing sound that seemed to come out of a rebreather. Slowly he spoke, unaware of one terrifying thing that would had determined his fate.
“Micheal Kelter”
As soon as he said this, the newspaper slammed down onto the table as he realized who he was staring at. Looking at Kelter was a mask with a terrifying visage of combat. The nearly red eyes glowed back at him with the fury of something beyond his comprehension. It was then that he realized who the main character of this story was. It was not him or his mundane life as a branch head, but instead it was the man in front of him.
Yesiv Olin, the man of fire, flesh, and steel.
“Good bye Mr. Kelter,” he spoke through his rebreather, a heavy accent following along as well, “You will not be missed.”

Washington DC
An hour after Mr. Kelter’s . . . disappearance
“You are certainly a methodical gentleman, Mr. Olin,” muttered Yesiv’s seedy and nerve wracked employer, Thomas Hildernine, “O-only forty-eight hours and you’ve already tied up all our loose ends.”
Yesiv’s eyes narrowed and with this, the light that came through his mask’s eyes also indicated this as the lights emulated his eye’s movements. It was a strange phenomenon that he had found out about his secondary face when he first began and he honestly was glad. It certainly helped with expressing emotions, an ability that normal mask, and sometimes his own face, clearly lacked.
“There had better be a reason why I haven’t received my payment,” Yesiv hissed as he pressed his knife into the business man’s throat. It didn’t even need to draw blood before the man spit out words. Then again, they weren’t ones he wanted to here.
“N-now hold on there Mr. Olin, our contract states that we have to get rid of ALL the loose ends of our little . . . project. You haven’t finished my friend.”
Yesiv paused and though he still pressed the knife firmly, it soon found its way off his neck and back into his chest holder.
“Go on . . .”
Thomas gulped, “About five years ago, an experiment known as subject 27 escaped our facility. The reason why we had you kill all our loose ends that had even an inkling of knowledge of our project was so that we could get rid of our more traitorous types.”
Yesiv nodded, prompting the shivering employer to continue, “We need you to kill this subject and then you will be paid.”
“I see,” Yesiv said as he finally turned around. The tension now waning, Thomas could now breathe much more heavily, “So, what is the information you have on this subject.”
“All right here,” the employer passed off a packet, “Her actual abilities were never recorded, but recently she’s shown herself as some kind of vigilante hero.”
“Her? Why am I not surprised,” Yesiv cracked his hand as he took a gander at it all.
“Do you require any assistance in eliminating her?”
He did not speak, for when he saw the girl's face something stirred within her.
Yes, this would be interesting indeed

Aula walked on, keeping her head down, not needing to look where she was going. She'd have to stop by Jess's place, get her only outfit repaired and discuss the possibility of fire-proof material. Yes, Jess would take on the challenge eagerly, she was certain. Aula ducked down an alleyway, veering left to a tall apartment building. Grabbing a rung of the fire escape, she began to heave herself upward, trying not to draw any attention to herself.

Aula stopped when she reached the window at the top floor, rapping her knuckles on the glass window. After a few seconds, a young woman with shoulder-length blonde, curly hair and shining green eyes appeared on the otherwise, smiling broadly.

"Aula," she practically laughed, opening the window. "It's great to see you."
"You too," Aula grinned, pulling herself inside. "All is well, I assume?"
Jess nods. "Perfectly fine."

Jess had been Aula's only friend (although Aula only uses the word "ally" out loud) during these past five years. She had been a thief then - a brilliant, brilliant thief and a technological prodigy. The pair had met on one of Aula's very first nights on the streets, shortly after she had made her daring escape. Jess thieved to live, had next to nothing, but she had offered Aula - who had been dressed only in a tattered white dress - her only coat, and some food. Aula stayed with her on the streets for some time while she strengthened herself gradually. Eventually, she had revealed her true self and managed to get Jess an alias (she was known by Lissa to the public) and an apartment. Since, Jess had designed for her what she needed, and Aula would occasionally spend the night.

Jess directed Aula into the bathroom, where she changed into a dark purple spaghetti strap top, skinny jeans, and let her hair down. Jess promptly scooped up the tattered jumpsuit.

"Wait for me in the kitchen," she called back to Aula, already out of sight.

((You might need to write a bit more since I, the RPer, don't have enough information on your character. I'd prefer to know from your writing rather than you telling me straight up. That way, I can make a battle plan for Yesiv :D))

"Aula Charnai Belle," Yesiv repeated to himself, "Interesting child."
The assassin was still sitting in his chair while looking through the folder of information before him. Her capabilities were impressive it would take far more to scare Yesiv Olin. As strong as she was and as many powers as she had, she lacked experience to wield them. All she had taken down were petty crooks or stopped freak accidents from turning into bloody messes. As killer though, oh boy.
"So how long would it take . . ." said Thomas. Immediately the masked man, snapped the folder shut without saying anything else. He moved, almost dragging Thomas along with him.

"Tell me," he said raspily, building to his question "How is project Sampson doing?"

"Project Sampson?!" Thomas sweat a little, "How do yo-"

"Hush little man," instantly the employer sewed his mouth shut as Yesiv turned as his eyes bore through the weak man's skull, "What is the status of project Sampson?"

"Discontinued . . . why?"

The light in his goggles narrowed as a smug smile came from under his mask, "Goooood . . . and remember to keep it that way."

With that, Yesiv Olin left the building and disappeared from the streets. Unseen in a dark alley, Yesiv made his way to an undisclosed location and pulled out a small metal case. Taking a syringe, he plunged the needle into his neck and growled.

Project Sampson had better stay dead . . .

Aula made her way to the small kitchenette, seat I herself on a four-legged stool aloside the marbletop counter. A small television sat at the back of the counter. Aula noted vaguely at bit was set to the news channel; Jess had no doubt been watching before she arrived. Aula pulls her lips into a thin line as coverage from the school appears, a grim-looking brunette staring down the camera, microphone clenched a little too tightly.

Aula quickly tries to zone out, but she catches little blurbs here and there.

"... eleven dead..."

"... countless injuries..."

"... merciless killer..."

".... children..."

"... mysterious hero..."

Aula reaches out with one hand to turn off the television, carefully clenchi and unclenching her other in order to keep herself under control. She had never been able to listen to recounts like these, especially when those harmed were children. She glances at the millions of needle-prick scars on the inside of her arms. She knew only too well that children are never spared. They're just easier victims.

Despite her own troubli past, one that would cause a grown man to shudder uncontrollably in fear, Aula has never allowed herself to dwell on the terror. She had long since hardened her heart against such this, out of necessity, adopting a sarcastic, witty, hotheaded personality that controls her actions. Well, it could be considered flawed, the way she is, but it's better than a broken, helpless life.

Her eyes drift once more to the scars, rattling off experiments in her head. That one for super speed, that one for strength... Exceptional sight... Night vision... Force fields... Emotion-driven healing... Agility... And that one-

"Aula!"

Aula jerks her hand up automatically to catc the jumpsuit. "Thanks Jess," she says with a smile.

Jess laughs. "No problem. Nice reflexes."

"Enhancements will do that for ya."