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a character in “Impending Pursuit”, as played by ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ


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Username: ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ Speech Color (#990012) | FC: Thought Color (#413839)


{Full Name: }
Cayde "Quickshot" Mori
{Age: }
{Gender: }

{Species: }
Mutant Mutt. His father is half-carbunclo and half-golem (gem variant). Supposedly has human ancestry on his mother's side, but it's never been confirmed.
{Face Claim : }
PROJECT: JHIN|| League of Legends




Hair Color:
250 lb

Eye Color:


Overall Appearance:
It's unclear how much of Cayde is mutant and how much is metallic. Donning a reflective mask, he sees through the glowing, red visor and speaks through a modulated microphone. His voice, though raspy, is clear and monotonous, rarely showing emotion unless sufficiently riled up. He makes no effort to hide his prosthetics and chooses instead to highlight them in his outfits. His arms, legs, and spine have all been augmented or replaced in the pursuit of a longer lifespan while the organic parts of his body are hidden beneath his armor. At his side are his guns and on his back, a special case that carries his ammo.

“ Insert a quote to describe your character, or something your character might say,”



Cayde is a man unbothered by death. After years of treating his patients in vain he's lost all hope for mutant and mankind. He views life as a short, meaningless phase of a person wherein the best they can do is fulfill their base desires and survive. He isn't a particularly hedonistic person, but never holds back his desires nor does he consider the feelings of others. Instead he approaches situations with a cavalier, pragmatic manner that belies his crueler tendencies. He takes pleasure in besting others, enabling strife, and playing games. Any reward that follows is merely a perk.

▶Theme Song : Stylo // The Gorillaz

Tinkering // He loves dissembling, reassembling, and learning how objects work be they plant, animal, or machine.
His family // Despite the sometimes tense environment he misses them greatly.
Fresh food // Because non-packaged foods are so scarce he takes pleasure in finding fresh food with fruits being his favorite.

Taking his mask off //
Hypocrisy // Though he understands that everyone has their own blind spots, he despises a lack of internal, moral consistency.
Sleeping // It's an insanely inefficient bodily function and he doesn't understand how his species hasn't evolved out of it.

Fitness // His prosthetics allow him strength, speed, and endurance that surpasses that of most species.
Mechanical Knowledge // Years of working on various types of machinery has taught him how to operate and repair equipment.
Medicine // Though not an expert, he has learned how to treat injuries, common illnesses (including Ori), and even identify medicinal herbs.
Aim // His precision and accuracy are unmatched whether he is shooting bullets or throwing darts.
Tough Skin // Aside from his prosthetics, his skin is covered in a layer of industrial strength diamond, making it near impossible to pierce.


Daredevil // The adrenaline rush of a risky excursion is one that has persisted throughout his life and has landed him in trouble more than once.
Light sleeper/Insomniac // He has trouble sleeping without sufficient cover and wakes up to the slightest of noises.
Swimming // Due to the density of the materials used in his prosthetics, it is difficult for him to stay buoyant.

{ Weapon : }

He carries two handguns that can interlock and transform into a larger sniper rifle. Rather than gunpowder however, his guns are powered by solar energy and depending on the setting, the bullets have different effects. In addition to normal, piercing rounds he also carries tranquilizers, incendiary rounds, and energy-based ammo. When he isn't shooting, he prefers hand-to-hand combat (though he admits to being weaker at it).

{Place of Origin :}
The Dead Cities

{ Background : }
Cayde comes from the family of medics and mechanics. In the dead cities things like doctors and medicine were scarce and hospitals even scarcer. Decades of medical knowledge trickled from one generation to the next, slowly dwindling until only a handful of practitioners remained. In the case of the Mori family, machinery and medicine were intertwined with one another, both necessary relation to the survival of the region's citizens. While one side alleviated the diseases that plagued the Dead Cities, the other side dealt with prosthetics and medical equipment. After a riot he was arrested for treating injured protestors and sent to work in the Wastelands. He quickly accepted an invitation to the Game of Pursuit in hopes of reuniting with his family.

{Family :}
Cairo Mori, Father (Living): He is the chief mechanic, captain, and Cayde's mentor. He performs repairs and surgeries.
Johan Mori, Grandfather (Living): He is renown as being one of the most knowledgeable practitioner in The Dead Cities, though this is more of an indictment of the area than a compliment to him. He runs a psuedo-pharmacy and diagnoses patients who come to the ship.
Sherry Jules, Mother (Deceased): She died of Ori when Cayde was ten years old. Her heritage was nebulous because she appeared human despite the unlikely hood of one surviving in the Dead Cities.
Ariadne Mori-Holmes, Wife (Living): They met when fitted her with a new leg and married a year later. He considers her his best friend, his wife, and wants to see her more than anything.
Sherry Mori-Holmes, Daughter (Living): She's the only child due to her mother nearly dying during childbirth. Despite understanding his field of work, she resents her father for not spending more time together.


So begins...

Quickshot's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Quickshot
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cayde "quickshot" mori // father ship // #990012 // img credit: alex flores

"What's the purpose of currency on these ships?" a synthetic voice asked, "everything on the Prime sustains itself from the food to the government to the labor that keeps the ships afloat. So why bother with taxes? Everyone would live more efficiently."

“Without money how do you expect anyone to ascend from ship to ship? It isn’t as simple as throwing wheat at the government,” a white-haired individual mused, “having your wealth tied to your labor would create a caste system.”

“If all the money is being funneled to Mother and she hoards it like a dragon then the Prime is already one, just with extra steps.”

"Is this what you do when you get old? Blabber on about socioeconomic theory?" A blonde woman cut in.

"Hey, I'm only thirty-eight!" Cayde snapped, "now pass me the WD-40."

"So they say." Halo smirked as they tossed the aerosol bottle.

Small spurts of silicone filled the air as the cybernetic man lubricated his joints. It wasn’t easy being Cayde Mori, or Quickshot, as he would be known by the masses. Halo and Renee (their stylist), decided that he needed a stage name that reflected well on him and of the options they came up with, Quickshot was the most popular.

“Mmmm Halo, what do you think of this?” she asked, holding up a rhinestone blazer, “too flashy?”

“I’d prefer not to look like a disco ball,” Cayde deadpanned.

“You don’t have a lot of options looking like…” the woman gestured towards the mutant, “...that.”

“You just pointed at all of me.”

Halo pursed their lips for a second, stroking their chin in deep thought.

“A lone ranger, super soldier, a family man?” they suggested, cyan eyes moving towards his competitor’s mask.

“Definitely not a family man.” Renee shook her head vigorously as she pulled out a fluffy overcoat, “he doesn’t have the face for it or really...any face. How is anyone going to connect with him if they can’t even see him?”

“You don’t need a pretty face to earn patrons. Modeling is about more than that.”

“That's rich coming from the face of everything from designer clothing to toilet paper,” Quickshot scoffed, as he set down the spray, “I bet you landed every job you came across."

As if anyone below the ships could afford their products.

“I’m keenly aware. That’s why I stepped out of the limelight,” Halo frowned, “I always changed myself to fit the product, but here...we can build around you.”

They left the couch, approaching their stylist’s closet. It was a curious piece. The sliding door was only a few feet in length and inside appeared shallow in depth, yet the list of clothing was endless. Pulling up the navigation menu, they scrolled through a variety of themes ranging from western to cottagecore to an amalgamation of east Asian aesthetics. Each piece projected onto Cayde’s form via hologram, flickering as it went through each suggestion. After a long string of “no”s (from all sides), the human finally retracted their finger from the touch screen.

“Renegade,” Halo announced finally, “a man who lost everything and seeks to redeem himself by saving others, even at the cost of his humanity.”

“Isn’t the anti-hero trope played out?” the cyborg asked, “everyone is going to spin themselves into a hero.”

“Not to mention, nothing about him is even human," the stylist yawned.

“I don’t think you need to be human to have humanity,” Halo smiled, “you just need them to identify with you, to be able to live vicariously through you.”

The manager walked over to their competitor, draping a mesh cape over Quickshot’s shoulders. Upon closer inspection red, hexagonal outlines shimmered in the light, seemingly to dim and brighten with his breathing. The fabric was not unfamiliar to him as he’d used it in the past to dress people’s wounds. It was waterproof, breathable, and reacted with heat in order to regulate the wearer’s body temperature, making it ideal for protecting delicate skin. It wasn’t uncommon for mutants to dig through the trash of humans and repurpose what they found in ways both fashionable and otherwise. Long, continuous pieces of fabric were rare. It was far more common to see patchwork linens, threadbare garments, and if your species was hardy enough, nothing at all.

He was sure he saw a few people on Father wearing the same styles, but for them it was just that: an aesthetic. Fake eyepatches, prosthetic tattoos, and the gas masks that didn’t filter anything.

Perhaps he was getting old.

After snapping the magnetic strip down, Halo sat back down on the couch and motioned for Cayde to approach the closet

“Mirror mode, please.”

Pulling up the fur-trimmed hood, the mutant mutt gazed at himself, tugging on various parts of the half-cape half-cloak until it finally found rested around his shoulders. Despite his prosthetics, he could still feel the smooth, cool fabric between his fingers. The black matched him well and the fur was surprisingly unobtrusive. Pieces of himself still showed through the garment with the crimson parts of his armor shining the brightest.

“Renegade huh, I like the sound of that” Cayde murmured to himself, “Why didn’t you go with that as my nickname?"

”It didn’t test well with audiences,” the white-haired model chuckled.

Cayde rolled his eyes beneath his mask. Who could they have tested in such a short amount of time?

“Well! If it’s all good with you two, I’m going to arrange for a fresh coat of paint, a tune up and a new mas-” she paused after seeing something resembling a glare-“okay no mask. How about just a cleaning then?"

Halo glanced at Cayde expectantly until the mechanical mutant took off his helmet and handed it over to Renee.

"In the meantime you should unwind, relax, and grab a drink while the pit crew gets to work,” she said before glancing over at Halo, "are you coming along?"

”Good luck out there, Cayde,” Halo smiled, standing up once more to leave the room.

Renee closed the door behind the two of them, a locking noise following soon after. Walking over to the minifridge, he cracked open a beer and sat back on the couch.

I don’t need luck. I always get the job done.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Edward Killedge Character Portrait: Ljilja Character Portrait: Scout Character Portrait: Kore Character Portrait: Yeqon Character Portrait: Bandit Sephilan Character Portrait: Ciara Character Portrait: Lamia Serose Character Portrait: Quickshot Character Portrait: Leo Behrends
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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxLocation: Fatherxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx #0EBFE9 | FC: #CD3333

The foyer began to illuminate, lights flashed from all sides, holo pods illuminating as fog filled the center of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, mutants both big and small, please make your way to the foyer and put your hands together for this year's Overseers, Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!" They rose from a podium in the center, Kore's smile so wide, her cheeks hurt. It wasn't exaggerated, Kore was truly eager for this moment, having been waiting for it for so long. Kore stepped off of the podium first. She and Yeqon had done three run throughs of the orientation speech, not that he would say much to begin with, but hopefully he remembered his part.

Kore looked out at the crowd, at the fifty hopefuls whose faces were a mix of bemusement, entertainment, and fear. She swished her cape over her shoulder, Kore's form illuminated by the lights, the gold in her outfit sparkling as she took her place in center-stage. "Welcome everyone!" A hover mic floated near her, capturing her voice so that the speaker hidden throughout the area could make sure that everyone would hear. "I am sure you're all very eager to get to tonight's party, but first, we have a brief orientation with some important rules!"

"We're your hosts, Kore and-" she glanced at Yeqon, hoping that he was paying attention. "Let's get right into it," Kore clapped her hands together, the holograms suddenly changing to display the rules. "We have a few rules for the mutant living corridors. Our first and most important rule, is that you must wear your tag at all times. Those tags are your key to the world card and without them, you won't be able to enter the rooms or unlock your door." Kore's smile eased a bit, the tags were akin to wrist chips, only less permanent, since injecting a mutant with a small microchip wasn't exactly efficient. Not to mention the distrust mutants already had towards the humans.

"Our second rule is, please do not attempt to leave the living space. This is an area just for you all and if you are found wandering the ship, unescorted, you will be subject to discharge from the games." This was an important rule, for the safety of the humans. Not that the door would open from the inside anyway. "Our third rule! No violence in the hallways! Sparring is allowed in the gym, but murder is only allowed in the Game!"

Did they understand at all? Were the rules registering in their pea sized brains? Kore hoped so. "Those are the three most important rules! The rest can be found in your handbooks in your rooms. As for other important information, everything we talk about tonight will be in your handbooks." Kore clapped her hands together, glancing at Yeqon again to see what he was up to.

"Now, the Games will take you through four different environments. Before each game, your manager will brief you. You have one week until the first Game begins, during which you'll each have several interviews for the audience to get to know you! You'll want to nail these interviews, since the more sponsors you have, the more mini prizes you'll earn during the Games! This can be anything from a bowl of soup, to a jacket!" The screens illuminated to show clips from past years, of sponsored items being delivered to contestants.

"Your biggest interview will take place the evening before the Game begins. As for the space around you, you are free to use it to prepare! Eat to your heart's content, train until your arms fall off, and relax! Remember, the only way to back out is between Games, so make sure you know what you're doing! Now that, that's over with, let the party begin!" Balloons and colorful streamers suddenly rained from the ceiling. Music played from the speakers and the door opened to allow potential sponsors and managers in.

"What do you think Yeqon?" Kore turned to him, her smile sparkling. "See any potential winners?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ljilja Character Portrait: Kore Character Portrait: Yeqon Character Portrait: Quickshot
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Cayde was about three beers in and fairly disappointed when the pit crew arrived with his new equipment.

All the technology in the world and they choose to forgo flavor. Nonetheless, he wasn’t one to refuse free things and the less he needed to unmask himself the better. His face was a well kept secret on the ship, seen only by Halo, Renee, the pit crew, and the creator of the Game of Pursuit. At first he balked at the idea of showing his true identity; however, he was at the mercy of his manager and they were adamant that they could see him in his entirety. Plus, they needed to make sure he wouldn't tamper with anyone else's equipment.

”It’s not that nobody trusts you. We just need to ensure that the game stays fair for everyone involved.”

”So you don’t trust me to play fair.”

”It’s not about me.”

Quickshot sighed, crushing his empty can before inspecting his armor. After making sure all of the adjustments had taken hold, he donned his mask and left the dressing room. There were no more scratches, dents, or scuffs; they buffed away all of his experiences over the past year. It felt simultaneously freeing and melancholic. All of that time spent wandering in the Wastelands was gone, but so were the days leading up to his separation from his family. He supposed this would be an opportunity to create new experiences, one of which would lead to winning the Game of Pursuit.

With his cape over his shoulders and the pit crew sworn to silence, he departed for the lounge where a fair number of competitors had made themselves comfortable. He wasn't keen on mingling with others, primarily because they were mostly younglings, pretty much all of whom wouldn't be older than his daughter (who he was careful to keep an eye out for).

Each of them appeared to have taken a different approach, some mimicking Prime, some taking a ballroom approach. Some opted for simplicity. It seemed that regardless of aesthetic preferences, their managers had the final say. Everyone was just a tool for their amusement.

Before he could find a place to settle however, lights flashed, fog filled the room, and a pair of humans emerged from the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, mutants both big and small, please make your way to the foyer and put your hands together for this year's Overseers, Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!"

Quickshot didn't know much about either of them, but it seemed like Kore (the shorter and perkier of the two) was leading the show. All of the information she mentioned was common sense so he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as she continued speaking (not that anyone could tell).

Frowning at the gaudy display, he swatted away a stray balloon. So far, Halo proved to be the closest thing to an ally on the ship and he had no issue with that. He didn't expect anyone to sponsor him nor did he intend on courting anyone. The citizens of the capital must have watched countless interviews and trying too hard to stand out would be his undoing. If he had nothing to say, it would be easier to say nothing at all.

He turned to meet the gaze of a red haired man with tattoos covering his chest. The feral look in his eyes reeked of aggression, a blind demand for a fight that would never come. Each passerby was treated to the same provocative glare, but nobody seemed to take the bait.

It was honestly kind of pathetic.

The cybernetic mutant turned away from the other competitor, deciding that the better option would be finding a less crowded space so that if anybody did swing by, they would come one at a time.

Seeing a large, unoccupied tree near the balcony, he walked over and took a seat on the grass. The faint scent of lavender was comforting even if it was artificial and...seemingly from nowhere. He glanced behind him, pausing at the sight of a blue-haired girl. She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old and her outfit didn’t seem to do her any favors. There was no good reason for her to be in this competition and yet, there couldn’t be any other reason why a mutant would be on Father.

You’re here too huh, he thought to himself with a sigh.

"Good luck to you." Cayde whispered, more to himself than to her.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ljilja Character Portrait: Quickshot
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By Shade of Tree


Exploding with light and sound, the once-harmonious foyer became, in an instant, a dazzling spectacle equal parts garish and impressive. Fog consumed the ground, concealing it from view, set aglow from all sides, as if the entire floor had taken to the skies. Spectators gathered obediently with artificial clouds forming at their feet, rounded up by a thunderous announcement from a bold but unseen voice. From beneath the clouds rose two glimmering figures, taking center stage, heralded by the shout of their names: "Kore Mars and Yeqon Cryo!" The demand for applause that accompanied their arrival was met with a few scattered, tepid claps; too many of the uninitiated were left shielding their eyes from the beaming pageantry to show their appreciation. The show continued nonetheless.

Despite the ludicrous pomp, there was refreshingly little ado. The aforementioned Kore Mars, a bubbly young hostess adorned in shimmering gold, quickly laid down some ground rules:

  1. Competitor tags must be worn at all times.
  2. Attempting to leave the competitor space is forbidden.
  3. Violence is strictly limited to the gym and is for training purposes only.
    1. Except in the Games, where murder is encouraged.
Competitors would have one week to prepare, during which training and interviews could be conducted. These interviews were their only chance at obtaining boons during the Games, without which they would be left to fend for themselves.

Ljilja shuddered at the prospect of being left alone in a foreign land, tasked with killing those around her. Yet this was the true nature of the competition she had just entered. She leant her weight upon the tree trunk beside her, becoming nauseous and weak-kneed for the second time that day. A masked competitor more than twice her size took a seat not far from her. With prosthetic limbs and a body more metal than skin, he towered over her. She whimpered as he spoke, a raspy sound that chilled her to the bone:

"Good luck to you."

Ljilja's voice caught in her throat as thoughts of the morbid fates that might await her flooded her mind, her words a choked-up squeal. "Y-yo-you, too."

Her legs bade her to leave, but had hardly the strength. She tried to stand up straight, utilizing the tree's support ever more earnestly. And then came the flood.

In the dozens, managers and interested parties were released, seeking out their competitors for on-the-spot interviews to determine their suitability for sponsorship. It was a feeding frenzy, the floor rapidly being overwhelmed with the excited chatter of negotiation and commerce. Deals were made, Viz exchanged, futures secured—winners and losers, the very outcome of the Games hanging in the balance.

The importance and weight of sponsorship struck Ljilja all at once, and she realized with horror that, while other competitors were awash with a veritable deluge of interest from would-be benefactors, she stood at the outskirts with

The smile she held for appearances broke at once. She stepped forth from the tree, staggering slowly at first, pace building into a sprint. She ran for the exit.

A familiar grip took hold of her just short of the doors.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Ljilja struggled against the grasp of her manager, Jaden, whose insistence on her participation was beginning to grow very thin.

"Out—I want out," she tearfully replied.

"You haven't even started yet."

"I can't do this!" she cried.

Keeping hold of her arm, Jaden escorted Ljilja past the opaque glass doors once more. Then, he took her by the shoulders and gazed down at her, sternness growing in his crimson eyes. With a modicum of privacy, he pressed the matter.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"They—they're going to kill me," she sobbed, hanging her head to avoid his gaze.

"Only if you let them," he answered, though his words were small comfort.

"Look at me!" she demanded. "N-nobody wants me! You know why?! Because I am plankton out there, waiting to be eaten!" She collapsed to the floor, sitting with her knees to her chest. "If I join, I'll die."

"That's not what Sonja thinks."

Ljilja gasped, shooting her puffy-eyed gaze upward. Then her face contorted to a bitter frown. "No lies," she grumbled.

"No lies. I did a little research while you were getting your makeover. Your little fin friend is watching for you on the holos."

Ljilja cast her gaze back down to her knees.

"And she thinks you can win."

"Glupa Sonja," she muttered to herself.

"Winning is different things to different people, you know. You don't have to make it to the end," Jaden added. "Survive a couple rounds and you'll go home a hero. Make me enough money and I can even arrange a transfer for your family."

He had done his research. Ljilja never swore, but she was sorely tempted to make an exception.

"All you have to do is survive."

"What about sponsors...?"

"The less support you have, the more profitable when you succeed anyway."

"But I'll die out there..." Ljilja sniffled.

"Not if you train and I do my research. Have I done it?"

Ljilja begrudgingly nodded.

"So what do you need to do?"


Jaden extended his hand to help lift Ljilja up to her feet. She took hold of it and stood.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ljilja sniffled again and, with the urging of her manager, entered the opaque glass doors one last time. Trembling like a leaf, she joined the crowd at the foyer and did her best not to draw attention—although a girl of her stature with such apparent evidence of recent weeping was not the easiest sight to ignore.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ljilja Character Portrait: Scout Character Portrait: Quickshot
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xxxxxxxxxxxLocation: Fatherxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  Speaking: #CD5C5C | Thought: #2F4F4F

Sit, stay, play nice, don't bite people. Scout felt like a dog and less like a mutant. The wolf stood in the corner, swishing the drink in her hand around as she waited for Aries to return. Scout was growing bored, the music was too loud and it was making her ears hurt. Her tail drooped in annoyance, they had one week to prepare, but she had a feeling that it would mostly be spent being pulled out of training for interviews. Did Scout really need sponsors? No, Scout was confident she could make it through these games on her own.

Some of the competitors looked serious, while others seemed too soft to be here. Scout placed her drink down and cracked her knuckles, this would be a good time to do some spying. Gather information on other competitors and scope out the competition, since she had been too busy sulking before to do that. First, however, another cookie was in order.

Scout spotted a table full of them and made a bee line, picking up three and hiding behind a group of human women, dressed like a flock of flamingos and cooing about some mutant they had just met. Between their heels and funny hats, Scout blended in perfectly. "Oh, excuse me." One of them noticed her standing there, Scout stiffened, her tail upright. It seemed as though her hiding place was not as good as she had originally thought. "Sorry," Scout mumbled, shifting awkwardly. Conversation wasn't exactly Scout's forte.

"What an ugly thing you are," their ringleader spoke and her gaggle of women laughed. Their various feathered hats shook with amuesement. "With a face like that, I don't think you're one to talk." Scout replied, shoving an entire cookie into her mouth. The woman's eyes widened in shock and confusion. No doubt this was the first time she had ever had to question her own image. Scout smiled to herself, "Wow, now that I look at all of you, you're all really unattractive." Her grin grew into a smirk, her tail swishing back and forth. They were like chickens standing underneath a hungry wolf, cowering together.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go be ugly somewhere else." Scout smiled as she walked away, the colorful lights making her wince. They reminded her of Enforcers and cops, the red and blue sirens that would chase her and Mercy across the desert of the Wastes.

Scout caught a glance at her reflection in one of the glass walls. The scar on her face had been highlighted with makeup, her eyes smattered with glitter and her lipstick non-existent since hse had licked it off. Scout felt awkward in a dress, as though it was not made for her. At the very least, her ori was covered by the tall boots Selena had picked out. The feathers in her hairclip were like something of a joke; Scout was no angel. "What are you doing here Scout?" She whispered to herself, sticking out like a sore thumb. What would Mercy say if he could see Scout now?

"You can do this," her hands balled into fists. If Selena hadn't cut her nails and painted them a girly shade of pink, no doubt they would be stabbing into her palms about now. Scout whirled around, determined. She stuffed another cookie into her mouth, removing the final traces of lipstick and headed back into the crowd. The first thing her eyes laid on were what looked like a kid, being pulled on by her white haired manager.

She was short, with blue hair and eyes. She was a mutant, there was no doubt about that, she reminded Scout somewhat of a frog. "So small," Scout murmured. Should the wolf approach her? Would she scare her? She was a competitor too, but it didn't seem as though her manager was interested in gathering sponsors.

"Hey," Scout tried to be casual, she was feeling less angry now that she had eaten. "Why is a kid here?"


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Character Portrait: Quickshot
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cayde "quickshot" mori // father ship // #990012 // img credit: alex flores


By the time that the finned child ran off, the room had been flooded with managers and potential sponsors, some speaking with managers and others content on having competitors fight over their patronage. Cayde was all too eager to observe the spectacle, but Halo would not give him such a luxury.

Their glance pierced through the room, striking the cyborg with unparalleled "concern" (though that word didn't quite encapsulate their feelings). All the years of modeling taught them how to sell a feeling with a single look and in this case, the sentiment seemed to be “don’t shoot yourself in the foot before you even start”. The tilt of Cayde’s helmet, in his mind, said something akin to ”I know what I’m doing”, but there was a chance that his movements would get lost in translation.

Begrudgingly marching towards the bar, he found himself stopped by a blue-haired woman.

”Well, well. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Manicured nails trailed up his arm, stopping short of his chest. ”You must be Halo’s little project. I didn’t expect you to be so…grizzled.

”You can say old,” he replied flatly.

”Oh don’t be silly. It’s refreshing to see an actual adult in the competition,” she chuckled. "You’re usually all so young.“

In another life he might have enjoyed the attention but she made it obvious that her gaze wasn’t well-intentioned. Though everyone dressed formally, she carried herself far too gracefully to be another contestant. With a slit up to her waist, detached taffeta sleeves, and an all but open chest, she wouldn’t be caught dead near manual labor much less a battlefield.

”My name is Catherine Rose, of Black Rose Electronics.” Extending her free hand, she shot him a smirk.

Was she expecting him to kiss it through his mask? Or was she expecting him to grace her with the pleasure of seeing his face? She didn’t appear to be the type who would enjoy seeing mutants that didn’t adhere to human standards.

”Quickshot, nice to meet you.” Much to her dismay, the cyborg gave her an awkward shake before letting go.

Holding back a frown, she curled her fingers around his bicep.

”Right well, you must meet my friends.” Catherine gestured towards a standing table surrounded by other, equally opulent humans.

Not so much leading as dragging the mutant along, the woman pointed out every noble family that they passed by, making sure to explain her own connection to each person. As CEO of Black Rose Electronics she had her finger in many pies, naturally.

"Everyone! this is Quickshot," she announced, "he's a competitor in this year's Game of Pursuit."

"Oh? Catherine, I never knew you were into the grungy type," a pot-bellied man said, "I always thought you enjoyed men who were more refined."

"There are very few men here Sid, though you always did prefer them young,” she shrugged, eying the multi-winged mutant that he had his arm around.

”Oh my gosh, you can’t just say that!” a second woman exclaimed, playfully swatting Catherine.

”We’re all adults here Aria,” the blue-haired woman shrugged before glancing at Quickshot.

”Of course,” he replied with gritted teeth.

” did you two meet?”

”I was looking for a girl this year. Something monstrous with a cute face.” Swirling the wine glass between his fingers, Sid took a long sip before stroking the young mutant’s feathers, ”and that’s when I found Ten over here.”

Stiffening at her sponsor's touch, Ten managed a weak "hi" before reaching over for her sparkling water.

”Aww we should celebrate!” Aria raised her glass, "to finding our perfect match!"

”Actually, I think I should be going to bed.”

”But the festivities have only started!” Catherine protested, ”surely you can stay a bit longer."

Quickening his pace, managed to lose Catherine in the crowd before finally emerging in the living quarters. He'd had enough for the night and if Halo and Renee wanted to scold him for potentially losing a sponsor then so be it. Right now, he just needed some rest.