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Rioned Tuduarge

"Everything here is a weapon that they can't see."

0 · 417 views · located in Las Flores

a character in “Blurry Lines: Establishing Them”, as played by AeJylhis

Description

Image
"Everything here is a weapon that they can't see."

ImageName
Rioned Tuduarge

Age
Visual Age: 20
Factual Age: 22

Appearance
Hair: Bright Yellow, kept neck length and soft
Facial Hair: NA
Eyes: Sharp, calculating and intelligent, yellow like his hair.
Build: Lean, muscles are toned. Slightly visible.
Skin Tone: Fair
Height: 6'
Weight: 170lbs
Voice:
Handed: Ambidextrous
Body Markings: A computer virus symbol on his left shoulder.
Scar Tissue: Mostly around his hands, especially finger tips and palms.
Unique Body Features: Ear piercing on the left side.

Rioned has sunny colors in his hair and his eyes, but he hides it with a hoodie and a pronounced slouch. His eyes alternate between sweeping his surroundings to suddenly staring off into space, depicting his ever processing mind. He generally wears long sleeved clothing with hoods to cover himself up in public. When in deep thought, he tugs on his silver earring subconsciously. He also wears gloves. Has rough palms. When it's time to become a vigilante to hunt down his chosen targets, he wears a hooded jacket with hems all the way to the ankles, his self create smart-specs, keeps a towel on his left side and a short sword on his right.

Sexuality
Straight

Personality
Motivation: Hunting down the one who tore his family apart.
Fears: Spiders, Bees and getting close to someone only to lose them again.
Goals: Bring an end to the current system, by bringing the government down.
Positive Traits: Cautious - Intelligent - Reasonable
Negative Traits: Sarcastic - Cynical - Mischievous

Rioned is an avenger. He is vengeful and his perfect memory assists in this, as he never forgets a face. His lifestyle has lead him onto the path of a vengeful spirit and he will stop at nothing until he finishes his target. He seethes with anger and uses other villains as victims to vent his anger on. However, he also knows the value of life and doesn't take any, choosing only to disarm his opponents(more like amputate their limbs) and leave them to their fates. He hates teh current government with his heart and despises the coward superpower humans hiding in the shadows instead of making a change. When 'hunting' or crashing top-secret information, Rioned proceeds with caution, always careful to not be discovered and covering his tracks. He is intelligent as well, able to immediately make a connection between things that would otherwise seem unrelated. Rioned's rage filled conquest is also able to be reasoned with, if good enough. His rough upbringing also brought forth a cynical side to the once innocent child, making witty remarks and believing that the world only consists of evil, and there is no right, only wrong. He names his method, 'Fight evil with evil'. He is also mischievous, especially when he doesn't feel like 'hunting', proceeding to burn out people's computers or shut down their internet just for fun. Anyone who stands in the way of his revenge are enemies.

ImageLikes
- The internet
- Information
- Being able to prove his superior intellect
- Breaking down firewalls
- Music

Dislikes
- Screechy sounds
- The corrupt government
- The superpower people who do nothing to stop the corruption
- The one who tore his family apart
- Idiots

Relationships
Single, no friends or family.

Power
Technomancy - Rioned's power is the most perfect gift any person could ask for, the unlimited access to all that is technology. The internet, phones, computers, satellites, everything. Hacking becomes as easy as thought, manipulating satellite images comes at a snap of his fingers and knowledge that he wants flows endlessly into his mind. To help with this, he uses several computers linked into a large network to help give him what he wants, although the flow of information has busted more computers than he care to admit. In a tight situation without his handy computers, especially during one of his hunts, he can use his body as a conduit, pulling information from sources and letting them flow into him. This causes a bright strand of flowing data that only he can see to stream to his finger tips and into his body, providing him information. This state is called 'Wired In', and causes Rioned's eyes to glow blue. Rioned is unable to move when Wired In and has to sort through the information on his own without the help of his computers, a painful and strenuous process the longer it takes. He has no way of shifting the information or being able to sort them, unlike with a computer. The information continues flowing into him, important, non-important, until he gets the information he wants. Rioned can also use 'Wired In' mode to control a machinery as if using a keyboard, using the strands of information in his fingers like puppet strings. Due to the nature of this ability, Rioned has resistance to mild electricity although it badly damages his hands.

Equipment
A modified smartphone, smart-specs that help him in combat by calculating potential scenarios and short sword on hand. In his secret hideout, he has several (stolen)computers linked up together to form his personal informative network system.
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Strengths
- A born talent that came with his power, the ability to easily hack through anything.
- Imagination to be able to create devices for his use.
- His Technomancy grants him unlimited access throughout New York's grid.
- Satellite access via Technomancy
- Photographic memory

Weaknesses
- Throw him into a place without any technology to tap into, he becomes a duck.
- 'Wired In' mode makes him defenceless.
- He's a bad fighter without his smart-specs.
- He won't kill, he only amputates his enemies, leaving them alive to fight another day, that is, if they haven't bled to death
- 'Wired In' mode is dangerous if remained in that state for too long

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Home
Huge hideout inside a warehouse, equipped with multitudes of computers and heavily modified with freezer room components to help cool down the computers in their 24/7 365 days a year job. Most items were 'stolen' or 'bought', thanks to his hacking skills. The location is also wiped off the records and hidden from satellite view, another thanks to his Technomancy abilities, making it the perfect hideout.

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History
Rioned Tuduarge was son of a businessman who specialized in dealing with technology. Everyday, he used to return home with different new gadgets for his little toddler to play around with. Rioned would often take them apart and rebuilt them, somehow knowing where each wire and screw went. It wasn't long later that the child manage to create a computer from scratch. It was only when after a fit of rage at the snail-like download rate, Rioned grabbed hold of his computer, somehow 'Wiring In' and causing lights to dance around his room, prompting his parents to decide that their son was a superpower human. Instantly, download rates spiked up in their house. Their son was harmless, of course, he only had the ability to control technology. Days passed normally for the Tuduarges, until it happened. The villain came. Rioned's dad had tried to find evidence in order to get him into jail, but was silenced. Their friends silenced, the entire household silenced. When Rioned's turn came, his fit of panic, confusion and anger brought him into 'Wired In' mode, causing a huge blackout as well as electrocuting the villain and his henchmen.

Rioned has managed to escape with his life, but he grew up filled with vengeance and sorrow, with full hatred for the blind world. With such technology, no one tried to corner these villains like his dad had done, the other superpower people merely stayed in the sideline to watch, frightful of arrest. He turned vigilante, yet with no regard for the safeties of others, or charity, or good intentions. An anti-hero. He sought to remove the 'corrupt data' from the world and to do so, he took the alias of the erasing 'V1RU5' and launched daily attacks at top-secret information. He was untraceable and came to be known as a 'Grid Ghost', a frightful entity that destroyed data, intercepted it, jumbled it up, sowed confusion and chaos within the network. He gathered a band of other people who also had their families torn apart by the evil of his past in order to seek the killer out. Yet he failed, several times, causing each of his then close friends to die. Of everyone, Rioned was unable to track the villain. His fear and trauma refused to grant him access to the villain's face, thereby leaving a huge loophole for Rioned to trace him down and exact his righteous fury upon him.

The loss of his close friends and loyal team members drove Rioned onto the path of a solo fighter. He worked alone, spending countless nights awake in his hideout, tracking down villains and corrupt officials, using them as anger control, to stem his rage before he could find the right person. The 'hunt' was on, and the 'V1RU5' takes no prisoners.

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So begins...

Rioned Tuduarge's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mako Senshin Character Portrait: Rioned Tuduarge Character Portrait: Afterglow Character Portrait: Kilroy Character Portrait: Sandra Liland Character Portrait: Melrose
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Image




Southern Gate || Abandoned Shipyard Hidden Warehouse || Late Afternoon





His breaths were escaping from his mouth in short wisps of visible mist, thanks to the incredibly cold room he was in. A warehouse, heavily modified with freezer units. Afraid of the heat? Perhaps. Though the presence of not just one or two, not even three or four, not five, six or seven. Eight, nine, ten don't even cut it.

This room was built to help cool down the fifty-something units of computers, all linked up together, forming a kind of supercomputer.

And sitting in the middle of it, a young man with his hood on, but his eerily sharp yellow eyes illuminated as it flickered between the screens, lithe fingers tapping away at keyboards and touchscreens. It seemed that everything seemed to be of no interest to him, as he sighed heavily each time he came across something on his screen. It seemed that there were different people on his screens, some seem to show a detailed file, while others showed live feeds from the cameras throughout the city.

A young woman robbing a bank. With a flick of his fingers and zapping of a bright blue strand of light, one of the screens brought up her file. After scanning it and appearing disinterested, the young man sighed and focused on the other screens.

Two people talking with each other.

"Using the codenames Watcher and Afterglow." he noted, once again bringing up their files and then he sneered when he saw-

"Greystar... let's make a note."

Instantly, the files were prioritized.

To anyone else, there were so many interesting things to watch in the room of over fifty computers. There were multiple people on those screens, killing, being killed, saving people, being saved, stealing, being stolen from, the list was endless. Not even a fly was free from his scrutiny.

The magic man, the immortal, performing a daring show today with his audience sadistically trying to kill the man before them. This would've made anyone sick, but the youth seemed to take it in stride. After all, this guy was on his prioritized scrutiny file. He was unique.

A woman with the power to stop a person in their tracks, no doubt, after all those feeds from cameras... he deduced prowess involving the manipulation of blood.

Two individuals who could disappear, gifted with the powers of stealth. One who could meld with the darkness, becoming one. The other, genetically enhanced and experimented on, achieving a chameleon-like state.

A flying teenager, with presumably powers of the wind.

So many that he could list. So little time. Information could be deleted, but nothing was unable to be recovered. Especially not from him.

After all, everything was connected.

"... Tag, you're it." he murmured, tapping the screen of his intended victim for today. A bald man with beady eyes, multiple scars across his face and tattoos all over his body. Instantly, every screen in the room showed images, files, live feeds of the guy.

"Ihvan Ligardo. 34. Suspected of: Rape, theft, assault of a police officer, drug abuse. Charged with: Multiple first degree murders, mostly involving teenage woman, served only 3 years in prison, death sentence not given. Possibility of ties to primary target: 4.1%."

The youth stood up from his comfortable chair, picking up his short sword, pistol, a pair of unique looking spectacles and his phone, that was docked into the computer layout. He started for the door, whipping on his specs before pulling on his hood even further down his face.

"Chances of meeting and subduing target: 137%."

Everything was connected. There was no way you could catch him. No way you could find him. No way to stop him.

He is Rioned Tuduarge, known as the enigmatic and dangerous 'Grid Ghost' to every organization that feared him, making a new name for himself, 'V1RU5'.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rioned Tuduarge Character Portrait: Afterglow Character Portrait: Synapse Character Portrait: Sandra Liland Character Portrait: Melrose Character Portrait: Ledger
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#, as written by Perfidy
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Central Downtown Las Flores || Eastyard Boarding School || Late Afternoon




Droplets covered a a leaf curled a inches from Aranza. A leaf among many others that was only just settling from the unnatural gale that had made a storm of the private gardens only moments earlier. Aranza suppressed a small shudder of pleasure as she allowed the camera to fall against her stomach, tugging at the strap that secured it to her neck. Seven! I got seven this time.

The girl, young and heavyset, sporting overly large glasses and a busted lip, stood in the middle of the foliage as opposed to the path. Her eyes alternated between the camera screen and the spot in the air that Owen had just vacated. Without meaning to, she muttered a couple awed expletives in Spanish. She really had to tune out her mother's tirades.

Aranza flipped through the images on the digital camera, stills of a young man she went to school with. Standing in the garden, suddenly amidst a prismatic maelstrom, floating dozens of feet above the ground, and finally being consumed by a swarm of small bits of folded paper before taking off. When first being assigned to the task, Aranza was not particularly pleased. The school was a horrible place to seek out any non-expendable personnel. Students with any interest in crime were brash at best and completely unusable sociopaths at worst. The few metahumans that did turn up were usually caught misusing their powers and reported to the authorities immediately. Those that actually came back to school were placed under heavy watch, and had a beaten cast to their eyes that Aranza did not think would be of use to her. Owen was the exception.

“Owen.” she whispered. The look in the eyes of the young woman could only be described as enchanted. His habits, while not particularly noteworthy at first, were noticeable. It was sheer luck that Aranza was held back after classes one day by her peers for some “tough love” that she found herself leaving shortly after Owen. Out of sheer curiosity, Aranza followed the boy only to lose him in the garden. Her curiosity piqued, Aranza spent the next several weeks waiting for him to leave late again. This time she followed more closely. The reward for her diligence was seeing Owen take off into the sky. Aranza took to trying to catch him on film.

In the following months Aranza had compiled over two-hundred photos of Owen in various states of flight. Although she had already reported his existence to Monty, the mental clone felt a certain peace while watching him. As she dusted the dirt and flowers from herself, courtesy of her hiding spot amid the taller plants, a delicious though struck Aranza:

Will I be there to capture the moment he finally falls to the ground?



Uptown Las Flores || Amaranthine Base || Early Morning




“You know the drill, Ledger: no phones.” Monty fixed the guard with a sour look.

“I am well aware, thank you.” with the petulance of someone that thought they were deserving of far better than the lot they were dealt in life, Monty handed over her phone. Both guards stepped forward with a metal detector and magnetic scanner respectively. After a few annoyingly slow passes, the all clear was given and Monty was allowed to pass in to a hundred-foot corridor that led in to the next room.

A large desk of lacquered black wood dominated the center of the otherwise featureless room. An assortment of hardcopy files were stacked on both sides of the desk, some already sorted and the others awaiting inspection. Hands folded and masked face staring ahead, Gabriel sat patiently in anticipation of Monty's latest information. An empty gesture, given the nature of their bond. It was still necessary to maintain the appearance of “lowly bookkeeper” reporting to the “paranoid enigmatic mafia lord”.

Monty took a few steps forward and leaned her backside against the edge of the desk, turning to regard the masked man with a smile.

So, Gabriel, how are things? Her mental voice was dripping with sarcasm.

The mask is itchy. Gabriel's response was curt without being rude. Monty frowned. This particular clone had assumed the role of Gabriel over a year ago and had grown increasingly taciturn with the relative isolation the role entailed. Knowing that he was in essence herself in the same position, Monty could not help but feel the faintest pang of sympathy. Very faint.

Well, I have news that you should bring to the next gathering. Monty began counting off the most recent developments on her fingers. We have located seven new metahumans who are interested in joining the Amaranthine. They shall remain nameless until properly inducted. Greystar has yet to find a counteragent to the two latest drugs on the market, meaning we can keep a few of our remaining non-compliant backers under our thumb for the moment before those bastards buy their way free of us.

The raised fingers slowly curled in to a fist as Monty had to take a brief moment to collect herself after that one. Greystar was becoming an increasingly difficult to dislodge thorn in her side. A substantial chunk of the Amaranthine's legal profit was the donated funding of a couple dozen of the wealthiest business families in Las Flores. The Amaranthine secured these payments by keeping the stupid children of the families doped up on the most dangerous drugs that could be secured, drugs that required constant dosage lest serious health risks pop up. Greystar had already provided “cures” to three of these families, and Monty would bet her left arm that they were working on others.

As I was saying. The last order of business for you to go over next meeting would be that of the MYTHIC. They have been stepping on our toes as of late, and somehow got their suppliers to to get them access to chrace a week before our own was ready for distribution.

Gabriel twitched slightly at the mention of the newest psychoactive drug to hit Las Flores, chrace. Monty felt his longing. None of the mental clones had yet tasted of chrace, so the sensation could not be shared by their neural network. A new pleasure, a new sensation. Pushing away the intrusive impulse, Gabriel nodded. If that is all...?

“I'll see myself out.”

As Monty strode through the corridor and exited the subterranean office to retrieve her things from the guards, she stiffened. One of her older clones, a bankteller, was staring down an extremely familiar power-user that had just finished disintegrating a glass panel and was now facing a Greystar operative. Monty clenched her fists so hard that she thought she would draw blood. The guards simply thought she was annoyed by the leisurely pace at which they returned her belongings.

Keep observing. I would like to know if I lose a potential asset.



The West End || Glades Park || Late Afternoon




Things are not going well for the Amaranthine, Monty reflected. Accompanied by a lanky man of afghan descent–Ismail, another mental clone–she went about the rest of her day knocking off appointments from her list. Potential recruits, payments, shipments, and loans were all handled by Monty. She had to keep up the appearance of a busy little bee for the Amaranthine. Liking the micromanagement that the disguise entailed was a perk that the dark woman had not foreseen.

Near the end of her list, Monty found that she was supposed to pay Sandra Liland today. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as Monty crossed the task off of the list. Sandra proved to be a far shorter lived experiment than Monty would have liked. Even if she did survive the encounter with Greystar, Sandra would be incarcerated or put under surveillance for the rest of her days. In any case, Monty would not be visiting her any more unless some miracle made the girl worth running the risk.

The last of her appointments for the day was looking into a potential recruit. Spotted a few weeks ago by one of the other gang members, the lanky little boy could purportedly create electromagnetic disturbances over a wide area. Perfect for knocking out cameras, lights, and electronic grids for quick raids. The boy, Kyle Gregson, was contacted shortly after his discovery and offered a job. Today they were to meet in a park in the lower side of town.

As she and Ismail entered the park, Monty fell back into her thoughts. Her power was crumbling as surely and inexorably as the sea wears away at the face of a cliff. The Amaranthine was growing, surely, even richer than it had ever been before. Not quickly enough, though.

The most obvious threat was of course, Greystar. If they could do here what they had done already in Europe, then this was all for naught. The only thing keeping them from overrunning the country with metahuman restrictions were a few flimsy civil-rights laws. In the meantime, the organization was making examples out of power-abusers and criminal organizations. That would be fine if they were not succeeding. Slowly, very slowly, Greystar was earning the approval of the people.

Then there was the matter of those three. The mental clones who were too smart for their own good, and in possession of bodies belonging to people influential enough to abuse their power. One had started a gang of his own, and the other two were threatening to reveal Monty for what she was unless they were afforded new positions of power.

Melrose and the Gridghost were the least of her major concerns. The new kid on the block, Melrose and her MYTHIC were causing problems all across the board. Monty felt in her bones that a demonstration would be needed to put them in their place. The Gridghost was another matter entirely. The only thing she knew of them was that they were watching almost everything in the city, courtesy of what glimpses of the strange program the ghost used that her people could catch. Which is to say, mere wisps of a presence. The only reason Gridghost was not higher on her list of concerns was the method in which Monty preferred to keep her real information to herself: Telepathy. Everything that needed to be said was being communicated in a way that the ghost would not catch anyway. Unless they could read minds. In that case, Monty was doomed anyway and would roll with the punches as they came.

“Ledger,” Ismail's thickly accented English broke Monty from her stupor. He was pointing at a wispy young man in a wheelchair up ahead. He was playing a morose tune on the violin. Ledger perked up in interest almost instantly. “Is that him?”

“I believe so. Thank you, Ismail. Go wait by the gate.” Ismail nodded once and gave the boy ahead one last glance before returning to the entrance. Short dark hair, white, skinny, and small. He matched the description to a tee. Monty strode up to September, her heels clacking on the pavement and golden bangles clinking with every step. She stood in front of the open violin case, taking in the scene with unhidden curiosity.

“Hello. I believe you desired to meet me.” Monty fixed September with a warm smile, glancing to the sides to make sure that no one was near enough to hear them. “We have been observing you for a while. So is that how you do it? The violin transmits your abilities? An odd way to use a power, but I've seen less convenient methods.”