Vic Martel (Nobody)

"It's not my responsibility to be your hero."

0 · 1,100 views · located in Capetown, Texas

a character in “Project Oddity”, as played by CabbageAngel



"To those who fear nothing - I am nothing. And I can end you."

Theme 1: Tame, Pixies
Theme 2: Serotonia, Highly Suspect
Theme 3: Ban All The Music, Nothing But Thieves
Theme 4: Dark Necessities - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Image|| Name ||
Victoria Martel

|| Age ||

|| Gender ||

|| Sexuality ||

|| Nationality ||

|| Aliases ||
Nobody (yes, she purposefully named herself something so infuriating)

|| Groups/Gangs/Organizations/Factions ||

|| Face Claim||
Takigawa Yoshino, Zetsuen no Tempest


Image || Height ||
5'7'' - 170.18 cm

|| Weight ||
146 lbs - 66 kg

|| Physical Description ||

Vic's appearance is strikingly masculine. Practically everyone she comes across mistakes her to be a young man with some vaguely soft, feminine features due to her name, attire and build. She lacks the curves typically desired in women and may be slender and tall but she is not lanky. From her garage work-out sessions and band practice (as well as some crime fighting on the side...), she has the muscle mass and broad shoulders to show for it.

Vic has one of those faces that go from cute and unassuming to downright devilish once you know her. She has short, chestnut colored hair that she half pins back with clips, though the rest of her bangs fall in front of her eyes. Her eyes are round and forest green, sometimes peeking behind red-rimmed glasses if she doesn't wear her contacts that day. Her skin is olive and easily tans. Both of her ears are pierced, usually with small plain studs, but she'll go for something more flashy if it suits the occasion. She often doesn't go around with her shirt off for obvious reasons, but on her back is a tattoo of green Chinese dragon, covering a scar.

|| Attire ||

Vic switches between two styles, preppy and punk rock, and only those two. Well, unless she's slouching around at home. Half the time, you'll see her in pastel button up shirts, beanies, jumpers and skinny jeans. The other half, she's decked out in checkers, ties, leather, dangerous looking accessories and big black boots. She has skirts and dresses but never wears them unless she has a reason to.

|| Costume ||

Nobody's costume is made up of an simple yet eerie plain white mask, hoodie, shoes and pants.


Image || Personality ||
Spontaneous / Laid-back / Independent / Flirtatious / Daring

Free and wild disguised by a calm exterior is the easiest way to describe Vic. She's highly adaptable and rolls with the punches of whatever is happening, be it fight or lunch. She generally tries to not get involved in arguments, but supernatural scuffles she'll generally take joy in launching herself into. She relishes freedom and spontaneous thought, despising when there are consequences.

She's not much of a talker unless you really perk her interests, has a generally sarcastic and teasing demeanor and can sometimes be quite crude. She's difficult to make angry and will not yell if you do. Her gestures, language and right down the way she sits is tomboyish, probably due to her hanging out with the boys in her band so much. She's got a lighthearted approach to most things and has a trickster side to her. Vic's also a very flirtatious person. If she sees someone attractive, she tests the waters. If they don't seem interested then she's back out again without a single tear. She can "proudly" say that she has been the experiment for several women. Some of her band members are actually quite jealous of the amount of female attention she gets.

Vic's fearless in her actions and carries herself with a confidence that only someone that cheated death might have. Whether it's relationships, performing or fighting as her hero identity, she approaches life with it all until it backfires.

|| Flaws ||
  • Insensitive
  • Closed off
  • Lonely


|| Likes ||Image
✔ Flying
✔ Kicking ass
✔ Her band members/music/the drums/everything related to her band
✔ Horror
✔ Good bad movies
✔ Drinking games
✔ Camping
✔ Licorice
✔ Pranks, particularly using her powers to bother others
✔ Flirting
✔ Praise. Probably would be down with being worshiped.
✔ Some kinky shit we'll never, ever, ever get into in this rp

|| Dislikes ||

✗ Being stuck
✗ Noise complaints
✗ Controlling types
✗ Creative differences between band members
✗ Butterflies. Fluttery little bastards.
✗ Being shunned
✗ That the drummer is never the front man in the band, nor people's favorite despite the band being lost without them.
✗ The inconvenience of being a superhero
✗ Mushrooms
✗ Consequences

|| Fears ||

☠ An Abhorrent attack
☠ Her band breaking up
☠ Small spaces/being trapped (claustrophobic)



Vic has been classified as a 3 Stranger/7 Shaker, however she knows that isn't completely correct. It's not known that her invisibility classed under a Stranger power is in fact her turning into a cloud of invisible gas, a Breaker power. Her powers also stretch over a couple other classifications, being Mover and Brute.

Mover 1: Because of her control over air and her ability to become it, Vic can fly. She'd be put under the subcategory of Fly Mover.
Shaker 7: Vic's Shaker status comes from her ability to alter the battlefield by creating powerful winds to disrupt attacks, blow annoyances away and lift enemies in the air. She can make miniature tornadoes to really cause some chaos - whether she can go further than that, she doesn't want to try.
Brute 3: Vic would be classified under the Shield Brute and perhaps even Armor Brute for this power. She can use very strong winds to deflect attacks as a shield, or even create a miniature tornado around herself that deflects some projectile attacks. This is for cases where she needs her completely solid form.
Stranger 3: Due to Vic's ability to turn to air, she can go invisible.
Breaker 6: Vic can turn into an invisible gas that unfortunately carries the smell of licorice to give up her presence. When fully utilized, Vic can allow weapons to pass through her as though she was air.


Victoria Martel had spent all of her childhood years inside of boxes. She'd been stuffed into closets by her parents, packed into lockers by high school bullies and once was literally paid to be put in a cage and be looked after for a few days. The police had to look into that one. Victoria spent her time escaping from the boxes with secret drumming lessons and rock music. However, when she was 18, she found herself in a box that she couldn't escape with headphones.

The Trigger Event

She was in the state library elevator when it dropped. It didn't simply drop down, it went sideways as if something had knocked the entire building down. Victoria fell with the four others in the elevator with her. Miraculously, she and three of the four survived. She had fallen on top of the old woman that had died, her spine snapped on impact. Victoria immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was an Abhorrent attack.

They attempted to open the doors, but to no avail. The works were broken and there was rubble on top of them preventing their escape. The other woman in the elevator with them had broken her leg. They tried calling for help on the first day.

Victoria was in there for over a week.

The claustrophobic cage made it seem longer. They were quick to lose their minds in panic. During this time, the woman became sick. One of the men murdered her to reserve more air for himself, but failed to kill Victoria and the other man. Now with only two left, they accepted their deaths. They conversed. Talked about their dreams for the future. Victoria actually found herself taking a liking to the older man, telling herself it was OK to go out like this... that was, until he tried to coerce her into intimacy, claiming that it was her only chance at human bonding before she died. He didn't take rejection well. After a struggle, Vic managed to kill him by shoving the old lady's walking stick down his throat, but not before he could bite a chunk out of her back.

As she laid over the pile of corpses in this enclosed space, gasping for the last few breaths of oxygen in this place, she became air. As she watched herself disappear, she was certain that she was dying. Her gaseous form seeped out through the smallest cracks of the place, sifted through the gaps in the rubble, until she reformed on the surface of the rubble. The cultural center of the city had been obliterated and volunteers were still searching through the rubble. She later found out it was some power-drunk Breaker terrorist, not an Abhorrent.

After the Trigger

Soon after that, she cut her hair and freed herself from her parents, moving to a different city to attend university and staying with her aunt. She found her band members there, Zach, Donovan and Rudy, who gave her the name Vic she happily adopted. Their band, "I Really Hope We Don't Crash" (name courtesy of Rudy and his obsession with old British television), formed in Vic's aunt's garage. After much green-eye from Vic, she accepted that the lead singer had to be the front man, despite Donovan being a dumb name. (Her thoughts, not mine. They used to date at the beginning.) They graduated together (apart from Zach, he had to repeat some units) and lapped up gigs wherever they could. They've done small state tours, put out a couple EPs and even went on a trip to Japan together, just to raise their spirits when their relationships were getting a bit shaky (Rudy, again. His idea of them bonding over being surrounded by another culture kinda didn't work but they got a good song out of it.) And yes, through these past five years, Vic has been a Cape, taking martial arts classes and doing vigilante work behind their backs.

Currently, Vic stays at her aunt's - which is the band's hangout and rehearsal place - works at a record store (Donovan's dad owns it), and kicks some criminal ass once in a while. And yeah, she's still trying to cope with what happened in the elevator. Despite how free she's felt since it and the therapy which helped so much, there are some things that will never be erased from her mind.

So begins...

Vic Martel (Nobody)'s Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK


Vic Martel picked the needle off the Willie Nelson record that had been the soundtrack to her life for the last couple hours. Being surrounded by music and music lovers at all hours was the benefit of working at a record store, but it was up to the customers what played. While Vic could appreciate some country, it was usually just before bed when she was about to fall asleep, not when she was trying to stay alert at work. The fact that it was a slow day didn't help, either.

She dragged the sign off the streets and trudged down the alley the entrance to the shop was hidden down. Ignoring someone leaning against the wall across from her smoking, she entered through the unassuming door on the side of the brick building and locked it behind her. A single yellow light bulb lit up the stairwell, casting her shadow against the walls heavily plastered with posters upon posters. She hated the entrance to her work. The stairs were too narrow and the walls hugged them too tightly. She used these stairs to torture herself, ascending them as slowly and purposefully as she could. Her shadow crept with her. She kept her eyes on the weak daylight above, ignoring the shadows and the crushing lack of space. It was time for her to get over this. Besides, at least they were stairs, not an elevator.

Once out of that horrible place, Vic made a beeline to the small radio on the side of the counter. She turned it on and tuned it to the local rock station, nearly smiling when she heard the trance-inducing sounds of The Velvet Underground. Rock and Roll was definitely the genre and song to refresh her palate after all that country. She swung her head and mouthed the upbeat lyrics as she flicked notes through her fingers, cashing up for the day.

Soon she was plugging in the vacuum cleaner and was about to turn it on when she heard a familiar base line crackling through the radio's speakers. She slowly rose from the ground and stared at the little mechanism. At the first crash of a symbol, her dulled eyes brightened.

“Her lips are ice cold,” a distinctive voice sung, “Baptized in ethanol... and I wonder, if I'll bring her back tonight -”

Vic sprang at the radio, turning it up as loud as it could go. It boomed over the noise of the vacuum as she rocked her heart out around the store, thrashing to the beat of her own drumming.

By the time she got home, the sun was setting. Her aunt had left out some spaghetti to be warmed up for her. She worked the night shift at the children's hospital and was already gone. Vic plonked her bag on the kitchen table and jogged up the stairs to her room. Vic's room was one that appeared messy at first, but in actuality if you took a closer look you'd see she took care of her living quarters. Band posters were scattered over the walls and clothes hung from hangers from nearly everything. A terrarium hosting two hermit crabs sat on her desk beside her laptop and an empty bottle of creaming soda. Vic tossed the bottle into the recycling bin in the corner of her room and sprinkled food pellets into the terrarium, stroking the shells of the crabs affectionately. A breeze tickled the back of her neck and she turned to the ajar window. She pulled open the black curtains then opened the windows up further. The breeze was cold but comforting, a perfect night to fly.

Vic shut her eyes and breathed before bringing her hands in front of her and focusing. Slowly, the particles from her fingertips began to disperse. She watched them float and become nothing, the anomaly beginning to travel its way up her arms. She looked down to she was no longer standing - her feet were gone, and her legs were going. Soon, she appeared to be completely gone.,, but she wasn't. She was Nobody. Vic passed through the open window into the sky. She traveled past the suburbs and over the city, to the canvas on which the squabbles of hero and villain took place. As Nobody, Vic watched. She slipped through the conflicts leaving only the faint scent of licorice behind her. She considered revealing herself to some and joining in a supernatural scuffle she happily watched unfold, but was too tired to go through the hassle. Instead, she took joy in bothering innocent people with strong breezes. When she had enough, she flew home, became Vic again, ate her spaghetti, watched a hilariously bad 90s horror movie and went to bed.

Such was the life of a parahuman whose ambitions laid in the mundane.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Vic sat at the kitchen table with her laptop in front of her, leaning back with her legs spread out on the chair she slouched on. She wore a black tank top showing off the tip of her tattoo and her chestnut fringe was pulled from her forehead in an unflattering fashion with a dozen unskillfully applied bobby pins. She regarded the computer screen dully, not even looking up as she heard footsteps walking down the hall.

“Mornin', Vicky,” her aunt excreted through a yawn. Vic glanced at the back of her dressing gown as she went straight to making coffee then fixated herself back on the computer screen, mumbling out a small “Afternoon,” in reply. The kitchen was mostly quiet as Vic clicked from page to page and her aunt made herself a bowl of instant porridge.

“I saw a monster last night,” Vic spoke up suddenly, without any conviction behind her words. She didn't look up from her laptop, but felt her aunt's eyes regard her.


“Yup,” she confirmed simply. It went quiet again for a moment as her aunt went back to eating her porridge, wondering about how to respond to this. As she opened her mouth, obviously bothered, Vic interrupted, “Looked like something straight out of a heavy metal album cover. Something like... found him.” She went to turn the laptop for the woman to see the screen, then thought otherwise and turned it back. “Actually, you shouldn't see this while you're eating.”

“No, show it to me,” her aunt urged in annoyance and stood up, walking over to peer above Vic's shoulders. When she saw the site her niece was on, she sighed. Vic clicked a picture and it expanded on screen. She suppressed a smirk as her aunt gasped and covered her mouth. “My God. What is it?”

Vic couldn't help but grin a little now. “Human,” she tutted, “But I guess that's debatable. He's a Changer.” She raised an eyebrow at her aunt. “You've got to get out more. Your city is thriving with these people.”

“And you saw it?” The woman pried, ignoring Vic's last comment, “Last night?”

Vic nodded slowly, turning back to the screen to look at the horrific, translucent skinned, six-winged red bat thing. The creature was something straight out of a horror movie. “And it was awesome,” she breathed in satisfaction. She scrolled through the Changer's page on parahumansonline as her aunt returned to her side of the table and her porridge. Wendigo, he'd been fittingly named. She'd heard about him before she'd seen him the other night. He was pretty reckless when it came to exposing himself and his powers to the public. Vic appreciated that. She enjoyed spectacles, particularly presentations of superpowers on the creepier side of the parahuman spectrum.

“Huh. So that's who he was flying away from,” she murmured to herself as she watched a recently uploaded video of Wendigo fleeing a sandwich shop, being shot at by some guy she didn't know and couldn't get a good look at. It was a shitty recording. Nobody could ever get good footage of these things. “All over a sandwich?” She went to go put her fingers back on the keyboard when the laptop snapped shut.

Her hands froze mid-air and her green gaze slid up, unimpressed, to her aunt. The woman indignantly picked up her bowl and turned to the sink. Vic pursed her lips. She leaned away from the table and brought her hands behind her head, boring a look that said 'EXPLAIN' through her.

“I don't want you looking at that at the table,” the woman said curtly, “If you must, take it to your room.”

“Am I scaring you?” Vic accused, completely monotone. Her aunt hesitated to turn to her.

“The world is what's scaring me, Vicky. You young folk are obsessed with these heroes and not accounting them for the threat that they are,” she pointed a finger at the closed laptop, “Kids, and even adults, sharing pictures and information of parahumans like they're trumped up playing cards. Discussing origin stories in forums, who would beat who in a fight – it's sickening. The entire thing, it's sickening, and... yes, yes it's scary.”

Vic stared at her aunt's earnest expression, her own face unreadable.

“I'm surprised that you don't feel this way too, after... what happened," she continued cautiously then formed a smile when her words got no negative reaction from Vic, "I'm so happy, Vicky, that even though it was a horrible tragedy, you didn't... didn't...”

“Trigger?” Vic shot when it seemed like her aunt wouldn't be capable of finishing her sentence. She nodded, wiping at her eyes with a watery smile. Vic's gaze darkened and she returned the smile, through hers was wicked. “You don't know that,” she teased, “Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. We heroes take our secret identities very seriously.” Her aunt laughed.

“I need a nap before your boys crash in here and keep me up,” she said, “See you later, Vicky.”

"You just woke up..." Vic trailed off as the woman walked back down the hall. She watched her go blankly. "Oh yeah," she said to no one, "And my song played on the radio yesterday."

She turned back to the table, staring at the closed laptop. She sighed and slouched in her seat, flopping her head over the headrest to look at the ceiling. 'I'm so happy you didn't trigger'. What bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit. There was a wham as Vic's fist came involuntarily crashing down on the table. She was infuriated that her powers weren't triggered sooner in that incident. There were so many horrible things that happened in those weeks that could have awoken whatever was inside her, but no. It had to wait until she had seen every little detail of humanity at its most desperate. Until she had accepted her death.

Why the fuck didn't it wake up before she had to kill somebody?

Keeping everything a secret from everyone honestly made her feel like shit. Sometimes she wondered if openly being a parahuman would be good for her, especially for her musical career. Superheros were so much more popular than rockstars these days... but no. Not with everything that came with it. It was better if Nobody stayed this way - as nobody.

Vic got out of the house as quickly as she could after that. Her band would be holding practice at five in the evening, she still had several hours before being back behind those walls of pretense and secrecy. She jogged through a slight drizzle to her skateboard in a black and white striped jumper, baggy shorts obviously designed for men and lace up military boots. A skateboard wasn't the fastest way to get around the city, sure, but she couldn't stand being cooped up in a car in traffic for too long and the rain on her head wasn't a bad feeling. With one earphone in, she gave herself a push start before rolling down the road on her way to the skate park.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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The sound of crackling glass and the sensation of pain in his side caught Jericho's attention. He regretted immediately, his choice of form. A dogs ribs weren't necessarily hard to hit targets, especially when said dog wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. A startled, human, grunt of pain leapt out of Jericho, winded by the sudden force of a foot in his relaxed side. Instinct shouted for his eyes to close; and breath continued to try to rush in through his nostrils and mouth. He caught a glimpse of an feminine form, bottle in hand standing just behind him. Panic seized the Changer then, scrabbling to get up and forgetting that it would've saved time and energy to just shift his body entirely around via his power. Oops.

When he finally got his breath back, Jericho lurched to his feet, form shifting into a smaller, less imposing form of the bat-shape that he took on last night; wings flinging him up onto the wall as heavy chittering fell out of his new throat. The presumed woman was gone, echolocation showing him that she had managed to... vanish. In the time that it took him to get back up. There was a bottle where he had been laid out; broken and with something inside that seemed to indicate paper. Or something similar.

After a moment's consideration, Jericho took back to the ground, shifting into a humanoid form and kneeling to quickly swipe up the piece of paper. A quick glance around spared for anymore surprises that wanted to kick him. Who even does that. What the hell?! "Rob the Prosperity Bank on Wadley Ave tomorrow, and you will be paid greatly. Doesn't need to be successful. Just provide a distraction. Come back here tomorrow night for payment. -Ρεκαλ," read the bit of note paper that was left in the broken bottle. One long breath, just one; and then a long winded, rasping spoken rant left the lips of the boy standing in the alley. "Oh really, what the fuck?! What the fuck is that, Greek?! Jesus... And who the fuck kicks people by way of hello?! What the fuck! No one just fucking... Christ! Fucking bullshit. Christ. Can't just be all mysterious in person, noooo, you have to fucking KICK THE FUCKING WIND OUT OF ME?!" The rant had reached a slow crescendo of volume, with the end reaching such a height that it reflexively pulled on the first 'form' Jericho had ever gotten comfortable with in his repertoire.

For just a moment, a long chitenous, segmented tail lashed to life from under his coat, a teardrop shaped stinger swaying on its end. Vanishing mere heartbeats after as his outburst fled him, the ink left over from the change sank back into Jericho's skin. A sigh... Then a hasty decision. But he would have to wait until much later to really act on it. So the Changer sighed, taking the form of a magnanimously large eagle of some kind, wreathed in muscle and hollow bone, with feathers of iridescent silver and jett-black.

The bird flapped its wings a few times, getting used to the way the muscles and tendons pulled. Highly dissimilar to a human, but all together more... Powerful was and wasn't the word for it, but to describe it was more trouble than it was worth in the end. They were strong and wide enough to let him fly at least; and that was all he needed. A moment was spent preparing for take off on the ground, and then suddenly he was in the air. Gliding over the city easily, ovular pupiled eyes glaring at the movement below him. Jericho was in a foul mood to be sure, but it fell off of him as easily as his wings stirred the wind around him. He took a double take mid-flap, locking onto a skate park below him as his sight locked onto the one or two actually distinguishable human shapes below him... Why not.

Another hasty decision later, and those who were at the skate park were treated to the highly startling sight of an amophorus shape diving out of the sky. At first it started as little more than a blip in the sky, then it swelled in shape and clarity until it was easily visible as a bird of some kind, the size of a Dalmatian, plummeting from the air. Then it's wings flared out, full of open holes for just a moment as it used them to slow, before closing up and gliding to a full stop on top of a fence post; giving the area a wary glare. Or the bird equalvalent of one; with its beak serrated with overly triangular protrusions, it looked to be frowning as they lengthened towards the base of the beak. Once more, that skull patterning was there, and it only served to give the bird an even more fearsome appearance. It sat quietly passing the time by just watching those who were brave enough to stay. Jericho spotted a woman- or maybe a man? Hm. He didn't care. Spotted a someone on a skateboard approaching, their hair short cut and wearing clothes that he couldn't help but approve of. It was an interesting sight really, but hey, the city was pretty diverse in the end.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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It was when Vic stopped at an intersection, waiting for the little green person to light up, that her phone went off in her pocket. It startled a few people in the small crowd around her, including herself, as the first line of Chop Suey blasted at full volume, “WAKE UP!” She mindlessly took out her phone to check her messages, assuming to see something from her Aunt or maybe one of her band members asking questions about the rehearsal. Instead, she found a message left by a private number. Nausea bubbled in her stomach and crawled its way up to her throat the moment she saw the first two words,

[Hello, Nobody.]

The green man flashed from the traffic lights above her head, but she didn't notice. People pushed past her to hurry across the road while she stared at her phone. She didn't think she was afraid. She just felt sick. It took everything she had in her to click on the message and read further,

[Hello, Nobody. The Prosperity Bank on Wadley Ave. will robbed tomorrow afternoon. Will pay you to deal with it, without going to authorities. Good PR, too. Have fun, vigilante. -Ρεκαλ]

[Who are you,] Vic began to text, then backspaced and wrote, [How did you get this number?] After a couple more attempts of giving a decent response to the mystery person on the other end of the line, she deleted them all and simply sent back,

[Wrong number, my dude.]

A pitifully cute last defense of her identity. She knew that it wouldn't fool anyone, but it made her chuckle – albeit nervously. She immediately stuffed her phone in her pocket and flipped down her board, skating her way across the road and forcing a car to pull on the breaks. She left the honking and pissed off traffic behind her as she weaved through the people on the sidewalk, her mind distracted by everything that small message entailed for her.

When she got to the skate park, she found it practically deserted. Weird, this was usually the hangout for those kids who'd ditch school to smoke here. They generally hung out in the tunnel, blocking it off from anyone else. Guess that meant it was hers today. She rolled through the tunnel, looking over the ground at all of the cigarette buds and the amateur graffiti sprawled over the walls. Yeah, they could keep their tunnel. She skated back out and began simply meandering up and down the ramps of the park, a bored expression on her face as she did so. A trick every now and again, nothing too flashy (she wasn't amazing), a fall here, a reopened scab there. Eventually she rolled the board to a stop with her hands in her pockets. Her cheeks were tinted pink from effort and her knees were red, in dire need of another band-aid. She turned her head up, looking directly up at the skull-marked face of the monstrous bird that had been watching her.

Vic had known it was there, of course she did, you'd have to be blind not to notice. With her eyes still fixated on the bird, she flipped up her skateboard with her foot and caught it, tucking it under her arm. She walked up to the fence post the bird was perched upon and gulped water down from the drinking fountain near it. She lifted herself away from the fountain with a satisfied sigh and wiped her mouth, eyeing the dark-feathered bird yet again. She came over to lean her back on the fence beside it, taking out a packet of cigarettes and lighter from her pockets. She lit herself up one, drew a breath and let out a thin stream of smoke from her pursed lips. She turned her head back up to the bird, holding the packet out to it.

"Want one?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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The monster-bird stared at the offered cigarette, its pupils dilating to mere points floating in pools of amber... Then it blinked and spoke with a very much human voice, "Mmm... No thank you. Can't utilize that well. Form is hard to talk in. One moment," before flitting to the ground and shifting from avian to humanoid in shape; giving way to Jericho's actual face and form. Skull tattoo present as always. A polite smile painted over his lips.

He took in the girl's appearance entirely, trying hard to figure out if she was familiar from anywhere... And finding no information coming forth. Oh well! Jericho'a voice failed him entirely then, sudden shyness overwhelming as he shifted and remained quiet after his simple statement from before. He hoped he didn't look imposing, but given that the- wait a second. "You... Weren't there at the sandwich shop or anything were you? Or in the alley? 'Cuz you are way too calm for someone... Are you a cape or somethin'?" The words came unbidden, granted the Changer was glad his brain was working faster than his mouth was for once. Paranoia fueled the questions leaving him, but they were politely constructed. Maybe just a little irritation, maybe.

He thought for a moment, and then shook his head; the woman in the alley had 'smelled' different, and while he wasn't incredible at reading other people, Jericho figured that if this one was the original note giver, then she would have given it away in some form. He frowned then, outwardly cringing at his- truthfully- rude questioning. 'Always be kind' his grandparents had told him, and yet here he was being all sorts of rude. Sheesh. "Ah hell, sorry, I guess I should explain. This... lady. Wanted to give me a note I guess, decided it was easier to fuckin' kick my goddamned side in and take off. Was kinda worried it was you since y'know, y'ain't freakin' out or anythin' over me. And y'ain't showin' any sign of recognition so I mean hey, you're likely not and man I'm ramblin' haha."

Jericho abruptly closed his mouth, slapping a palm over his face as he tried and failed to stop the rambling from going on for to long- he had probably cut off whatever the girl was going to say! Granted, he also hadn't really given her room for much to say, per se, but hey. Semantics right? He sighed and tried a winning smile, forcing his teeth to be as flat and humanly shaped as possible. There wasn't any need for aggression that he could see, yet, and hopefully the skater wouldn't give any rise for it either! ... had he replied to her offering of a cig' yet? Man thinking was hard, and he was- er is- hungry. Whoops.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Alexander Dalton

The shopping had gone off without a hitch. Alex couldn't help but be pleased with himself. He had found just about every single thing on his list. Hard plastic sheets and mesh, straps and some professional grade protective sports equipment. Along with a few more odds and ends everything was pretty easily found. It wasn't like he was really searching for anything of the quality an actual hero would use. And most of it was for the aesthetic in the end anyway. He beamed as he walked out of the sports store, There hadn't even been a single para-human inccident during the entire time he was in the shopping district. Which was rare given how packed it got. The increase in Cape and vigilante activity being the prime cause most likely.

Alex was just about to try and go catch a bus when someone ran into him. The resulting thud was not much, Alex flinched reflexivly but wasn't knocked over by the impact. the other guy though hadn't fallen over or really stumbled. Instead having grabbed one of Alex's bags and pivoting around to the boy's side. "Dude you are kind of slow my man." The bag was waved a few feet away from Alex, followed by a chuckle.

After realizing what was going on Alex couldn't help but shake his head and snicker. It was Dean, probably he best and closest friend. "You joker, give it back." Every time he stepped forward and reached for the bag though Dean kept moving back and snickering. "Then come and get it~" Before Alex could protest though, his friend turned on his heal and took off.

Keeping up wasn't too hard. The two friends both were fairly adept tracers after all. Easily taking the chase from the sidewalk up to the roofs and back again. Alex's annoyance quickly faded as the two exchanged banter, slowing their pace to catch their breath. Dean still keeping A "safe" distance from the smirking Alex. "Sooooo, how is my shut in buddy doing? You said you saw a changer at you're fave sandwich shop yesterday? Figures he would ask in person. They guy was a little too into para-humans and capes in general. "Yeah yeah, A dog walked in with some kid and the dog ended up inflating into some guy with skull face paint. I. . . .didn't stick around to see what else would happen. He shrugged and shook his head. "I see a bit of that kind of stuff in my area, kind of a pain if you ask me. You worry what might happened every day and it just kind of becomes normal." The two began to climb down the building they were perched up on.

Dean whined half heartedly. "You are so fucking lucky man, I am never even close to any para-human activity. and you get to see a changer?? So unfair." Alex was finally given back his bag as they began to walk down the street for a bit. Alex noticed they were close to Dean's house, which happened to be located not to far from a local skatepark. Where they had both used to practice some of their more acrobatic moves when the two were beginning to become close. "Well . . . . if i could let you have the experiences i would gladly leave you to them."

The two parted ways after a few more minutes of chatting. Dean having to go back home to help with dinner. Alex ended up wandering around the area for a bit only to find himself at the old skatepark. The place was uncharacteristically abandoned given the time of day. safe for a fairly bizarre scene by normal standards. Some dude . . .girl. . . . person was standing near what had to be a bird that wasn't of any natural size. you had to be blind or stupid not to notice that. What really caught Alex's attention was that the guy that appeared to be talking to the bird was actually someone he knew. It was A girl that was part of the local band "I Really Hope We Don't Crash." Which he happened to be a big fan of. Alex had a thought. A stupid thought.

Trying to be casual, Alex walked up near the two, catching the tail end of the bird. . . . ..talking back to the girl who he knew as Vic. Well, this just got weirder. He bit his lip, almost having second thoughts. But he really wanted to at least say hi. Then he could run off and die of embarrassment. If i can face off against criminals that have superpowers I can at least do this. "Uuuuuhh. . . . . .. Sup." God that sounded so awkward.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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A satisfied smile spread across Vic's cheeks as the bird spoke back to her in a male voice. Ah, she knew it. She watched him fly to the ground and his form warp and twist into something human that loomed over her. The process of transforming was gruesome to watch, but Vic did anyway, eyes lit up with interest. She let out a wolf-whistle and stuffed the cigarette packet back into her shorts pocket.


The young, skull-faced lad the bird had revealed itself to be seemed to have lost his words despite transforming into the shape that was the most comfortable to speak with. Vic wondered to herself if she'd frightened him - the menacingly tall, skull-faced, shape changing man - which made her chuckle and look away.

"You... Weren't there at the sandwich shop or anything were you? Or in the alley?"

Vic shook her head then blew a slow stream smoke from her open mouth and nostrils. She knew what he was talking about with the sandwich shop. She had a strong suspicion that was completely confirmed the moment the guy mentioned it - he was Wendigo. That trademark skull on all of his forms gave the sucker away. The moment he asked if she was a Cape, she resisted the urge to give him an incredulous look and kept her gaze on the park.

As she tried to listen to his ramblings (she honestly had no idea what he was going on about), a laugh started to tickle the back of her throat. The terrifying and feared Wendigo was such a shy young man! It was almost... no, it was cute. Eventually, as his rant trickled to nervous laughter, she chuckled. She laughed into the back of her hand and started to cough on the smoke, squinting up at him with watery red eyes.

"God," she grunted out, leaning her head back against the fence, "We've got this all wrong. Aren't I the one supposed to be afraid of you?" She let out another small laugh and got one last cough out before grinning at him, "I'm from Capetown, man. I see shit everyday. You're not my first Changer... you're just the spoOOookiest." She sarcastically wriggled her fingers at him, then shook her head with a dry laugh. What Vic was leaving out from her teasing words was that he was also the coolest looking Changer she'd ever seen, but she wasn't about to let anything that could be mistaken for adoration slip. She paused a moment to lock eyes with him and say in a deliberate, amused fashion, "Wendigo."

A moment after the word slipped she heard another painfully awkward voice she didn't recognize at all being directed towards her. She turned her head, slightly bothered at the interruption, to see a fairly average young man looking very out of place. It wasn't that he was odd in the slightest, more that he looked exactly like someone who felt like they didn't belong here. Shit, how long was he there for? Vic thought, regarding him blankly. A name was not coming to mind.

"Sup back atcha," Vic returned simply, her brow furrowing at him. She immediately focused back on the Changer, completely snubbing the poor guy. She was about to say something to him when an irking feeling got too much for her and she pushed herself up from the fence, pointing her cigarette at the blonde.

"I know your face," she announced, "The Terrace, two weeks back, front row." She beamed excitedly at the thought, "You were there, weren't you?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Jericho watched the new comer warily, staring at him pointedly when the blonde walked up... Before balking and raising an eyebrow high on his tattooed face. "Oh-" Then he clamped his teeth shut, content to just watch and hope that neither of them heard his brief gasp of surprise. The Changer knew that the new face had seen him at the sandwich shop, and chose to stay silent in the hopes that he simply wouldn't recognize him; which was futile in honesty, but one can always hope.

Apparently his conversational partner also knew whoever the other teen- fuck why is today such a bad goddamn day- was. She seemed to recognize him from somewhere, but as long as blondies attention wasn't on him, Jericho could care less. Fuck. Then, becuase of course his mouth was moving faster than his brain now, he spoke up with a chirp of polite friendliness. "You two know each other? Also! Hi!"

A mental facepalm, and then more silence from the tattooed teen, brown eyes locked on the air just behind the girl- her voice was unmistakably feminine- staring past her with tense nervousness. He hadn't turned once during either of his moments of speech, only his side profile visible to the other boy. For a moment, Jericho briefly wondered if the guy had thought that he was awkward, the 'sup' from earlier sure was. But now he was doubly sure that he was the most awkward of the trio in the skatepark. It accured to Jericho then, that the girl had known who he was, but not by the name he thought he would be called. No one knew his actual name? Which was good...? But at the same time, she called him 'Wendigo', and that was concerning. Had video gotten out from what happened at the Which Wich?

Admittedly that was a stupid question, of course there had been video footage; everyone had phones now... save for Jericho, but hey, he never needed one before. Jericho startled some, as if physically realizing his thoughts were getting away from him again, rambling as if he were talking outright.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Alexander Dalton

Really, Sup? He couldn't have thought of anything better to say? A simple Hi would have been more polite and probably less awkward. Well the damage was done and hindsight tended to be 20/20 in the end. When she turned her head to look him over Alex swore she looked annoyed. Great, I must have butted in at a bad time. Way to go man, you just know how to make an entrance don't you? He was quickly wondering why he had even walked over instead of head back home. He must look like just some weird dude right now. And what if he said he was a fan of the band? then he would probably look more like a creep if anything. And Alex stood helpless as his train of thought became even more negative.

"Sup back atcha," She acknowledged him before turning her attention back to the bird. Yeah, she seemed annoyed alright. Not a surprise there though, Alex was used to this kind of situation. comes with the territory of being socially awkward. After being snubbed it was looking like a great idea to just apologize and head back home. or maybe head on back over to Dean's and get his hands on some of his mothers famous cooking. Just when Alex was taking a step top leave she pushed herself up from the fence and pointing her cigarette in Alex's direction.

"I know your face," Wait really? he stopped and looked over sat her. Did he somehow have a recognizable face? No that wasn't it unless the two somehow lived near one another without knowing it. Maybe she just so happened to make it a policy to remember her fans faces or something? now that was even more unlikely, "The Terrace, two weeks back, front row." . . . . Or not. Alex's posture relaxed as he put his bag down, grinning sheepishly now. "You were there, weren't you?"

"Guilty as charged. I think I've been to just about all of your shows since my buddy introduced me to you guys at that garage show over the summer." Funny that he didn't even want to go during that time. Dean had to practically drag Alex to that party. Alex only going along and not resisting further to not accidentally reveal his difficult to move weight . . . .or accidentally toss the poor guy. "I think I have a physical copy of your second album somewhere. I swear I've never pirated a song haha."

He paused for a moment and looked over Where he had last seen a bird to find just some dude. He almost flinched and just stared for a bit, wondering if the guy had always been there. Granted Alex had a bad habit of staring at the ground as he walked, which would explain how he hadn't seen him. But he was sure this guy wasn't here a minute ago. Alex raising an eyebrow in suspicion. He swore there was something about the guy that he recognized, but just couldn't put a finger on. After another moment passed He broke his stare and turned back to Vic. The idea that a member of what had to be his favorite band somehow recognized him of all people still leaving a bit of a smile on his face. "So anyways, sorry if i came off a bit weird there when i came over. Wasn't too sure if it was you or not and I didn't want to seem like some random creepy dude. we have enough of those running around anyway." It felt a little like those stories you hear about celebrities or other famous people. you think its gonna be intimidating and forget they they are just people like you. It kind of surprised Alex how calm he was talking to someone he barely knew. and usually he had to be in costume for that.

Alex still kept an eye on the guy with what looked to be face paint on him. Alex kep felling like he knew the man from somewhere but couldn't place him. Where did that bird disappear too? And how did this guy just appear without him knowing it?. The thought of it being related to a parahuman kept crossing his mind. Which kept Alex on guard ever so slightly. God he was getting used to this stuff now wasn't he? It was better to wait for the guy to speak up. Alex not too sure what to say to the guy now.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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"... Wasn't too sure if it was you or not and I didn't want to seem like some random creepy dude. We have enough of those running around anyway."

"You bet," Vic said, giving a sideways glance to the skull faced boy tucked behind her. She held her hand out for the blonde to shake, wiping the grazed palm on her shorts first, "God, you really are a fan. I mean, a hard copy? Even my own brother YouTube'd to MP3'd that shit. I'm flattered. Really." She could feel her chest swelling with pride... on the inside. On the outside, she kept the demeanor of not giving a damn. Sometimes, she wondered if her face was versatile enough for any other expression. "I'm Vic. If you hadn't googled that already, creep," she teased, the corner of her mouth tweaking up as she did so.

She settled back into the fence as she remembered a tidbit from the band's history the guy would probably be interested in, "Hey, you know, you're not even close to the shit we've dealt with. Back about a year ago, when we were touring the state, we had this girl who kept showing up backstage, demanding that we take her with us. You know, in return for sex." She ground her cigarette in the fence post, puffing out the last of the smoke from her lungs. "Told her we didn't take on groupies, she didn't take no for an answer. We'd kick her out, she'd hitchhike her way after us." She finished the story as casually as she began it, then her eyes misted over as she reflected on the memory. What she'd left out of the story was that they had to get the police involved and that the girl was a teenage runaway they ended up taking with them to drop her back home. So, really, the girl had gotten what she wanted in the end. Somewhat. "She was a good kid, really."

Vic's phone went off in her pocket and she fished it out to check it without so much as an 'excuse me'. There was a message from her front man, but as she went to check it she saw her own reply to whoever the hell Ρεκαλ was. She'd gotten no response back from them... good? Her face involuntarily went slack as she saw it and began thinking about it again. She managed to shake off the paralysis and read Donovan's message, though the sickness in her stomach was there to stay. She dropped her phone back in her pocket and lifted herself from the fence with a sigh.

"I gotta go," she announced. She tossed her cigarette in a bin and dropped her skateboard wheel-down on the ground, stomping a foot down on it. She turned back to the two behind her, the fan and the Changer. She tapped her finger against her leg a few times, flickered her eyes between them hesitantly, then turned her head away. “See you boys around, I guess.” She skated down the slope then skidded to a stop in the bottom of bowl.

“Hey!” She shouted, looking up at them from below, “You got anything on later?!”


Vic strutted into the garage, the people she'd met literally just this afternoon in tow. The members of I Really Hope We Don't Crash were fiddling with cords and warming up their instruments when she announced her presence with a small, “Hey guys.”

A dirty blonde immediately called out to her, “It would be nice if you could help up with the set up for once, you know.”

She shrugged. “Don't need to. The kit just stays here. No cords or nothing.”

He looked like he wanted to argue some more, but was distracted by the two figures ghosting her, “Who are they supposed to be?” Vic glanced over her shoulder at them.

“Alright,” she said in preparation for what was to come, “This is Alex,” she gestured to him as she said his name, “And Jericho.” She waved at the skull-faced Changer, whose skull tattoo had been shrunk a significant portion for this meeting. He looked... not so scary anymore. Like a normal, decent-looking person. Taking the face masking tattoo away would do wonders for his social life.

She allowed them time to give their own greetings, all while she pondered whether Wendigo/Jericho had given her his real name. Surely he didn't. Did he? He didn't seem to hold a Cape's secret identity in high regard, or his own secrecy, really. It must've been nice not to have those limitations. While on the subject of Wendigo, a classified villain, she surely had to be thinking about how she'd led, no, lured such a villain under the promise of food to her address and the repercussions of doing so. No? Alright. She didn't give a shit, then. Typical.

“Alex, Jericho,” she started again and began pointing around the garage, “The big bear-looking fellow is Rudy, red-head with the eye-bags is Zach, and the asshole,” she jabbed her thumb back at the dirty blonde behind her, “Is Donovan. Our leading man.”

“So what are you guys here for? Our drummer's ass or the free show,” Zach shot in their direction, his teasing directed more towards Vic than the two completely innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. Vic was taking off her jumper at the same time and immediately ditched it in his face. She sat down in front of the drum set in her black tank top.

“They're here to watch us rehearse,” she said exasperatedly, “And they're holding the pizza, so be fucking nice.”

Jericho and Alex immediately found themselves pounced upon by Rudy and Zach. Donovan stayed behind, eyeing Vic down.

“Seriously, who are these people and why'd you invite them here,” he said in a low voice to her.

“Well, Alex is a fan of the band,” Vic explained slowly enough for a toddler to understand, “And Jericho... Jericho is...” She looked at him from across the garage. Nothing much she could say about him without giving up his Cape identity. “He was hanging at the skate park. He's cool. What's it matter? It's my garage.”

Donovan just shrugged, backing away from her defensive stance, “I guess it doesn't.” He regarded her (as she deliberately avoided his eyes) before managing to squeeze out, "Are you alright?"

Before he got any response, Rudy and Zach returned to their instruments, pizza grease covering their hands. “Are we ready or what?”

“Start with Knock Out, or would you rather...”

"Yeah, alright, to warm up. We can jam to that."

"We're not gonna skip working the new track just cos Vic made us an audience, right?"

Vic looked over at Jericho and Alex, eyes shining brightly. “You boys get comfortable,” she called over to them with a grin, “And, uh, protect your ears somehow.”

She tapped her drumsticks together four times, and the band kicked in. Loud.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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A wide smile split Jericho's face, ears throbbing painfully at the sudden explosion of sound the band brought to life. Thrumming in his bones and his blood in equal measure. He set the pizza down where he could, focus torn between the smell of the- fuck it. He took a slice before he completely focused on the band; eyes wide and taking in every movement he could. He also took note of the noise, the sounds ripping forward from the drums and the strings. After a short pause, he found himself thrumming along to the notes that rose from the bass, the inside of his throat rippling just barely as his vocal cords stretched and shifted to mimic the sound. Without ever meaning to, or thinking about it, he was causing oscillation between his 'voice' and the bass from Rudy's strings.

A nearly imperceptible slight, but one that at the least Jericho noticed, and quickly stamped out by clearing his throat and turning away from the band. He had been staring, but the Changer had hoped that Rudy hadn't been the target of his gaze: though the bass player could later testify that yes, Jericho was staring really, really hard.

The Changer turned again, humming softly under his breath and continuing to listen to the band play as his hand reached out for another slice of pizza. Inhaling it before quickly grabbing another, and another... and another. On the right side of his face, where Alex stood, his tattoo pulsed in time with each swallow; tendrils of ink crawling out from underneath the skull and visibily wriggling as the food made its way to Jericho's stomach. For any who saw, Alexander being the unfortunate singularity for that group, it was a gruesome sight. The tattooed boy hadn't ever had his trademark, mark, so small, and thus hadn't ever noticed what it did when he ate. And as if to add more disgusting movement to the already disquieting appearance of the tattoo; the tendrils themselves pulsed as well, some of the veins beside them turning dark as the ink that made up the skull, before lightening again.

All the while, innocent as the sun was bright, Jericho just kept eating. One whole pizza, inhaled like air through a drowning swimmers mouth. Oops. "Oh- Uh... huh. Better stop..." came the mumbled thought, cheeks puffed out with the pizza still not yet swallowed. He turned back around then, crouching down and smiling with closed lips at the band playing in front of him- yet again finding his sight trailing towards Rudy and his bass... before flicking back to lock on the drums that Vic played. Why am I so distracted? It's not like I haven't heard music before... I flew over plenty of concerts, so what gives? And as if he could answer his own thoughts, he asked them.

Meanwhile, for the blonde vigilante; recognition poured into his mind. A dog ballooning in size, surrounded by ink; a man standing in front of a counter with a skull painted on his face; a bird, one the size of a dog, with feathers patterned like the skull on... Jericho's jaw... Huh. Imagine that. Wouldn't it have been really ironic if Jericho was the Changer from the Which Wich? But that would've been ridiculous- There was no goddamn doubt.

And innocent, ignorant, Jericho didn't even think that anyone other than Vic would recognize him. Because really, who would've thought anything about the barely fist sized skull print on his jaw? It was just a tattoo. Nothing special.

For a while, long enough that Jericho stopped counting the beats in the songs and instead just listened easily, the music rang out from the garage. It held the Changer captive, his attention never once wavering from the band 'fore him. While the vigilante was still reeling, still parsing the identity of the shapeshifter from the night precious. Perceptive gaze catching the tendrils of ink that rapidly writhed under the skin of the changer, flowing from one ear, around the back of the neck, and up to the base of the ofher. Dimming the volume of the music just enough to lessen the chance for some tinnitus. For the one who was just close enough to see, it was impossible to miss. Those that played the music, wouldn't be any wiser.
One hour, thirty minutes later:

Jericho found himself 'walking' home soon thereafter, yet another wide smile splitting his lips. Alex had been looking at him a little weird after a little while of being there, but hey oh well! He had enjoyed himself, and had a few ideas for what he would be doing at the bank tomorrow- oh Christ he was supposed to be there at a certain time, wasn't he... shit. Someone's phone would just have to do. Later. After some sleep. The three band members were a blast to be around, and some part of Jericho was hoping none of them had any checks or something to cash in tomorrow. It would really suck to have to end up scaring one of them... Or worse. Mhhh.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Alexander Dalton Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Alexander Dalton

"God, you really are a fan. I mean, a hard copy? Even my own brother YouTube'd to MP3'd that shit. I'm flattered. Really."

Alex's smile grew into a sheepish grin. "Personally I find the sound quality better then straight digital. Call me old fashioned I guess. He gave A bit of a wink before Vic introduced herself. Cringing a little at the playful jab. He let out a nervous chuckle. " I'm Alexander, though everyone just calls me Alex." Not like I know a whole lot of people though.

Vic's story wasn't too uncommon with bands. Heck one would probably state that you couldn't be considered famous until you had one or two crazy "devoted" fans. When she went to check her phone Alex took A moment to say hi too the guy Vic had been talking with moments ago. I know I've seen this guy before somewhere. Before he could get a chance to ask any questions Vic spoke up breaking away Alex's attention. She had to head off. while disappointed He didn't have a chance to chat longer, it was understandable that she probably had better things to do then hang out with some fans. He gave a wave as she mounted her board and began riding off. Maybe now I can question this guy a bit.

Hey!” Interrupted yet again. Alex would have been annoyed at this point but looked back and at the bottom of the bowl's slope. “You got anything on later?!” Alex's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he gave a shrug. "Nothing i cant do later, why do you ask?"

Jericho And him followed Vic into the garage where the rest of the band were finishing setting up. Vic introduced the two of them to the others. “The big bear-looking fellow is Rudy, red-head with the eye-bags is Zach, and the asshole, is Donovan. Our leading man.” Alex gave A wave to everyone and hoped he wasn't smiling like an idiot right now.

“So what are you guys here for? Our drummer's ass or the free show,” Alex's eyes almost bugged out of his head. It was when Vic suddenly pelted Zach with her jumper that Alex realized the question wasn't really directed at him or Jericho. Shaking his head, he simply smirked. though his face went A shade of pink for a moment. "Right, like that would ever happen. Just a fan that got invited for a free show."

Opening one of the pizza boxes on Vic's cue, He was soon quickly run up on by Rudy and Zach. It was Zach who asked if he knew Alex from somewhere. After having snarfing down half of an entire slice. Wow that didn't take long. The ice broke fairly quickly. Rudy recalling a scene during one of the shows just last month when Alex got clocked in the face in the front row of the show after trying to keep a heavily drunk fan from climbing on stage. Nobody could explain how the poor dude had broken a few of his fingers and Alex had learned that He wasn't too terrible at faking being hurt.

"There is no way you are 19. I call Bull." Zach pointed his second pizza slice objectively at Alex. "You are at least 21." Alex simply gave a somewhat smug look. "I'm mature for my age I guess. Besides does it mater?" He wasn't too sure how the conversation had taken this turn in the first place. While he tried thinking of something a little more witty to say both the men motioned that it was about time for them to get started and returned to their instruments. pretty sure they didn't whip off their hands. not that he cared. wasn't like they were his instruments anyway. he was about to get a personal show after all. Donovan and Vic got to their places shortly after.

And then is got loud. The kind of loud that Alex was able to feel in his skull.

The alarm clock blasted. Alex sighed loudly and rolled in his bed, It was morning already apparently. Great. Time to start the day. He moved like a zombie while going about his business. After the practice last night Jericho had bounced. And Alex had only just figured out who the guy was. Hard to forget that ink stuff crawling across his skin and that skull. Having had tried tailing him for a while and failing to keep track of the guy somehow, Alex just ended up going back home late. He still had a project he wanted to get done after all. Glancing at his work desk showed the fruits of his late night labors. A custom built mask helmet with new armor pieces to match for the costume. Packages had arrived while he had been out. Containing the last pieces he had needed for the helmet. He walked over and picked it it. not being able to help feeling proud of his work. It looked like a modern spin on a knights helmet, but sleeker and less clunky. The anti-flash goggles and sound filters fit perfectly and appeared to function as intended. Lucky him since he payed quite a bit for the tinker tech. He put the helm down and checked the calendar. It was the eighteenth. Shit. He was going to be late for class. "Oooooh I'm so dead." Aegis would have to wait. Right now Alexander Dalton scrambled to get out the door and not miss his first class of the day . . . and hopefully not pass out in the middle of it.

He felt like he was forgetting something, but shook his head as be bounded down the street to catch his bus. Probably nothing important. What Alex had failed to recall was that he had left a slip of paper that had his number on it back at Vic's garage almost on a whim. If he could recall though he more then likely would die of embarrassment.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Vic woke up feeling disgusting. She remembered why the moment the body beside her rolled over.

After cleaning herself up, she dropped her towel to the floor and observed herself in the bathroom mirror. The grazes on her knees and elbows were scabbing over and there was a small graze along her jaw, near her chin. Turning to her side, she spotted a patchy green bruise between her chest, spreading to her left breast. The worst of the marks on her body were the small, red marks on her neck and collarbone.

She layered her shirts before securing a scarf around her neck, hiding both her blemishes and femininity beneath them. In her room, she sat on the bottom of her bed and laced up her boots. Donovan stirred, shrugging off the covers from his naked chest. Vic took a moment to look at him, a dulled expression falling over her face, before sighing and tucking him back in. She crept to her wardrobe and dug through her belongings to reach a locked box. She opened it and took out the contents, an assortment of pure white attire and a mask, stuffing them into a bag she flung over onto her back. Before she left the room, she threw a half-full packet of cigarettes onto the bed beside Donovan, took her phone and walked out the door without looking back.

She checked on her Aunt before she left the house. She was dead to the world, eyes sore with bags and hair not even taken out of the bun she wore to work last night. Donovan would be out of the house before her, Vic decided. She shut the bedroom door carefully, despite knowing she could slam it and not wake her.

Thank god she had the morning shift that day. She had to call in to tell her instructors she wasn't going to be there for her tae kwon do and kickboxing training sessions that afternoon, but that wasn't such a big hassle. The biggest issue had to be making it to her gig in time. Depending on how long this was going to take or exactly when the bastards were planning to rob the bank that afternoon, she would be having to make up some excuses to some pretty grumpy faces. But she was going to take the job anyway. It'd been too long since she'd been in a good fight. And besides...

... any step that could get her a little closer to Ρεκαλ was a step she was going to take, if only just to sucker punch them in the face for messing with her.

Work went past unnaturally fast for Vic. Soon, Donovan was barging through the door, coming to take over her shift.

"Hey, Vic..." he murmured, not even having time to blink before Vic had stormed past him.

"Catch you tonight," she said briskly and jogged down the cramped stairwell, bursting out of the building. She skated her way through back alleys, working herself through a maze of shady paths, until she reached it. It was a shut down deli that had been out of business because of terrible sanitary conditions. All that remained of the place was its dusty, empty, gratified insides. The building had been on lease since forever and teenagers had taken their pent up hormonal rage out on this place. It was definitely going to be hit with a wrecking ball and build up into something new, but in the meantime, this was Vic's phone booth, aka, the place her superhero costume transformations took place in. Yes, there were definitely more glamorous locations, but small fries like Vic couldn't be picky.

With all her might, Vic managed to shove an empty dumpster just enough to reveal the secret entrance. As she slipped through into the building, the smell of old frying oil hit her. Man, she hated this place. She took no time changing into Nobody. Rather than leaving her backpack of clothes and skateboard in there, she took them outside with her and flew up. She shot above the city skyline before pausing, hundreds of feet above the earth's surface, a tiny white beacon to whoever looked up from below.

Vic hid her bag and board upon the roof platform of a skyscraper. Up there, it was much, much less likely to be found and ransacked. She memorized where she put it and flew out above the city, surveying the land. She loved it up here. It made sense that she did, with her powers to control the air around her, up in the sky she could be a god. Sometimes she wondered how if she tried, she could use her powers to control the city's weather, or create a natural disaster. Not that she would set a tornado upon the city just to see if she could. Going too far with your powers didn't do anyone good and Vic at least tried to be "good", despite not being the most heroic. She'd stick to flipping up skirts for now.

After a moment of just enjoying herself in the sky, she spied The Prosperity Bank and dissolved into thin air. She spiraled down to the bank and hovered above it, an invisible guardian angel to the people below her. There, she waited.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Watching the dog walk into the bank was an unusal circumstance all on its own, and the few tellers that were actively looking at the door so as to avoid eye contact with either over-excited, or over-irate individuals, stumbled in their sentences. It looked far too clean for what seemed to be a pet without a leash, and by god was it big, with a head that came right up to a burlier man's chest. Four feet tall? Maybe five? It was terrifying.

Then the dog just sat down. Right in the middle of the lobby, staring straight ahead like it had no care in the world. Some children that came with their parents stopped to pet the dog, and even some of those self same parents. But all in all... It just sat there, staring at a clock above the tellers... Though to them it seemed to just be staring into space. For a moment, those who occupied the bank easily forgot about the 'stray' that had just ambled in, turning back to focus on their errands and tasks.

Their attention was quickly drawn back when a woman began shouting incredulously, waving one manicured hand about in apparent panic as the other remained on the dogs' thickly furred neck. The whole while, the canine never moved, instead choosing to stare blankly at the clock on the wall.

Nine fifty nine... Ten o' clock. Time to start. The woman's shouting escalated as the clock struck ten, going from mere shouts to shrieks of panic and terror. Her hand was suddenly off the dog, and the shape of the animal on the floor shifted rapidly. Ink flowed from every-single opening on the surface of the beast. Swirling, coiling and finally coalescing in on the canine. Without any noise save for the faint swishing and liquid-y sounds that came from the ink. The room had dropped into a silence reserved for a horror film.

A mass of sinewy muscle and flesh was left in place of where the huge dog had once been, angry scarlet and puce purple all over, with disgustingly brown and yellow 'bruises' everywhere else. It looked like a mound of meat and flesh; taller than the average man, and twice as broad all over. Many a hole could be seen on the mound, and between each hole lay a pulsing, moving cyst. At first, it stayed still, small swirls of ink continuing to rise and fall over the holes on the surface, as well as around the raised, fist sized, bumps. Then, suddenly, the ink fell away and the bumps split open. Strands of pink ichor stretched between the split halves, revealing the eyes under each spot of raised flesh. Differently colored, different pupils, from various animal species and even just plain nonsensical shapes to the just holes in the irises. The gaps that presumably lead to nowhere on the flesh were soon filled with gnashing teeth, ranging from enamel daggers to needles of ivory and bone.

Screaming picked up again, from multiple different individuals in the lobby; until they were immediately drowned out by the cacophony of wailing and screeching that came from the fleshy thing in the middle of the space. Blood and spittle went flying into the air as the thing kept screaming, tearing itself apart in its apparent need to make noise. After a long time spent wailing, chattering, babbling, moaning and screaming back at the people of the bank; the change became noticeable. Oscillating noises, and voices, began to amplify on top of each-other. Each pitch escalated or lowered until the air around the beast was about as still as the racing heartbeat of a terrified mouse. A literal wall of sound pushed out from around it; driving some to their knees, and leaving others screaming once again, with pain instead of fear. The windows in the building began to waver; violently shaking and then shattering within seconds of the real 'noise' that the otherwise unknown changer was capable of producing.

He had been told to provide a distraction; well, now he was giving it. Nearby, a man vomited as the audible noise from the beast faded into nothing. Though too highly pitched to actually hear for a human, it was still enough to cause physical pain and damage. And that was without the lower pitched noise ripping into the intestines and muscles of nearby individuals. Some woman to the left began coughing and gasping for air; the sheer vibrations of moving air making it near impossible for her to draw in the necessary oxygen to accurately breathe. Jericho, wreathed in the horrific form as he was, was going all out. Not enough to kill, just enough to cause some real panic and terror. When people began trying to stumble their way to the exits, he dropped the pretense of just making some noise. A sound akin to breaking bone and tearing flesh actually made itself heard above and under the otherwise inaduible noises occuring in the room. A sudden wall of red flesh had taken up the exits, eyes angry and mouths churning with the warning threat of impending consumption.

It remained this way for just a moment longer before Jericho found that it would probably be well off for his lack of otherwise probable civilian casualty if he stopped with the noise. So, without any prior ceremony, or warning; the noises abruptly ceased. Now it was just deafening chittering, moaning, wailing and screaming. The mound was gone, and now it was instead plastered against the doorways out. basically encompasing the entirity of the lobby. The eyes closed, yet the mouths kept moving and making a ruckus.

Now, it was time to wait.

All the while, unbeknownst to Jericho; there were two in the room who were capable of combating him. Who could and in the case of one, probably would throw a wrench into the entirety of this plan of his.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Nobody waited in complete and utter boredom, wondering whether she could sneak away from her post to go get a snack or something, when she heard the screams. Screams of pure and paralyzing terror, screeching in chorus with an otherworldly shriek. Her gaseous heart skipped a beat from the initial surprise, though she immediately fell back into her unnervingly calm state and materialized. She dipped her head over the ledge to try to get a peek at whatever the hell was happening to see people fleeing from the bank in hoards. Well, the bank robbers sure were having fun down there. Time to stop it.

She sighed (it was more of a yawn, really), stretched out her back, cracked her neck then took a casual step off the rooftop. She disappeared as she fell and weaved between the people into the bank, just managing to slip through the doors as they began to seal over with what looked like moist, red skin, embedded with furious eyes and teeth.

Invisible to the creature's many... many eyes, Vic stared at the quivering mass of flesh and heaving mouths before her. What the fuck, were the first words that came to mind. She managed to tear her gaze from the creature covering the front doors and looked around to see that its mass had spread out over the walls and was blocking all exits, giving the feeling that she was trapped in a room made out of flesh. She was literally in the belly of the beast. The entire set-up reminded her of a video game boss. If an invisible cloud of gas could grin and rub its hands together diabolically, Vic just did.

She floated towards the center of the room to look around at the Changer (she assumed it to be a Changer, they were definitely not born looking like that), waiting for its next move. For somebody trying to rob a bank, it did a whole lot of sitting around doing nothing. Perhaps it was waiting for back up? Ha, like this monstrosity needed anyone to help it clean this place out. Well, actually, somebody with hands might've been useful.

She hovered right over the creature, inches away, feeling its breath and staring into its huge, bulbous yellow-stained eyes. The smartest move would probably have been to just hang around in invisi-mode and keep checking out this bad boy - er, keeping an eye on the beast and seeing what its next move would be before throwing herself into combat. Unfortunately, the temptation was there and too hard to resist. And with that, Vic had hands again. Only hands. They had materialized from the nothing she had been before, too fast for the monster to even blink. Without saying a word, she poked it.

Right in one of its big, soul-piercing eyes.

What proceeded next was a fast-paced, messed up game of whack-a-mole. After speedily jabbing several of its eyes, her hands dispersed back into thin air and she doubled back and up, away from the confused Changer. She was trying so, so hard to hold back the snorts of laughter that were threatening. She could laugh about it later, you know, when she wasn't in the middle of taunting a giant, room-consuming blob.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK

#, as written by Tanman
◄:Terry ‘Tess’ Farina:►

“I really could have planned this better…” Tess sighed to herself as she stood in the queue leading to the front tellers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other to relieve the aches. Firmly held between her hands was the bag of money from the music club fundraiser, a small metal tin inside containing the notes and mass of coins they’d gotten in donations for more instruments. It was a semi-regular event, but given how expensive some equipment could be, a lot of the time they needed to store the excess for next time. That and individually counting all those coins would take way too long. Still, heading into the bank during her late lunch break seemed to coincide with a lot of other people running errands, which is why she was stuck into a line waiting to be served.

Finally however, it was her turn. Moving up to the front counter, she quickly introduced herself and handed over the card with the school account details for the music club, along with the change to be sorted. As she waited, she couldn’t help but noticed the sudden delay from the teller as he observed something behind her, a small commotion reaching her ears as the sounds of excited children reached her ears. Pivoting to lean on the counter, Tess was greeted by a familiar and yet different sight. Cautiously, she observed the enormous dog that sat in the centre of the bank lobby, a small fuss of people petting it or hovering nearby while others pretended not to be interested. It distinctly reminded her of a situation from the other day, along with what had happened in the news that morning.

“Could that be Wendigo?” Tess thought to herself, though she didn’t make any action to point this out. Awkward as the dog’s unnatural demeanour was, he wasn’t causing any harm. Maybe he just enjoyed the attention? Turning back to the clerk to answer a couple more questions, Tess couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Both the damage to the sandwich shop, as well as the masses of food he’d eaten at the time was more than enough of a show that he was either villainous or lacked common sense. He had to be here for a reason, and for a villain, there wasn’t many other reasons to be at a bank. It was a disconcerting thought.

Then, suddenly, that uneasy feeling began to get worse. The panicked shouts of a woman began and quickly escalated, Tess turning to see her rather desperately trying to pull herself away from the dog, and yet her hand refused to remove itself from the fur. It might have been a harmless prank, but he was clearly scaring the woman and the situation was growing out of hand. Perhaps she could step in, start to reason with him and- The air was suddenly filled with more than just the shouts of the frightened woman as a viscous liquid sound began emanating from the canine. People began to panic and shove their way to get further from the dog and the grotesque mess that began to form, but then an eerie silence settled as everyone watched, transfixed in shocked horror.

That silence didn’t last long as the shaper began to solidify its new appearance as some nightmarish creature of flesh, eyes, fluid and bone, the monster jutting out in unnatural and disgusting mounds of skin and muscle indistinguishable of where its head or body began and ended. Perhaps scariest of all were the sharp and malevolent looking teeth that filled the multitude of mouths across its figure, the eyes darting about as if absorbing everything in their surroundings. The fact it was smiling made it all the more unnerving. For Tess, she’d seen enough. Like many around her, she couldn’t suppress the fearful scream that followed, her heart racing a mile a minute as she began to process just what she was seeing and imagining the horrors it could unleash. Eyes locking onto a target. Warped flesh stretching groaning and cracking as it moved over. Teeth gnashing and maws opening wide as it prepared itself to digest its meal. It was terrifying. Then, Wendigo began to scream.

Tess froze in place as the screech of death filled her ears, like the monster was in horrendous amounts of pain. With the way it jittered and shuddered as the body failed to remain stable, Tess’s trembling wouldn’t stop as she shut her eyes and cupped her hands over her ears. Then she felt it. The soft feel of liquid on her face. Darting her hand to her cheek, she slowly opened her eyes as she looked to the flecks of blood on her hands. Instantly, her body and chest tightened as she seized up, fear amplifying to new levels. It was irrational, but it sent her mind into overdrive. No. She needed to calm down. She didn’t have to be scared. She was okay, she…

The second wave of noise from the abomination in front of her sent her staggering back against the counter, the violently forceful waves of noise stinging her ears and knocking her equilibrium for a small loop. The pain helped snap her mind and body back into action however as she pushed herself along towards a nearby door to try and get free of the chaos, ignoring the pounding in her head as she forced herself through the pain. She wasn’t the first with the idea to get out, but it seemed the creature was well aware of their intentions as flesh and organs stretched forth from its central mass, sliding across the floor and pasting themselves against the walls, windows, doors – anywhere they could have thought of escaping through. There was nowhere to run. Those nearest the monster began to pass out, while some of the ones at the exits began to pound at the monster and try to break out. Tess however, was frozen as she tried to decide what to do in this sort of situation. Even with a number of civilians incapacitated, if she changed here, there was no way her identity would be kept secret.

Thankfully, Wendigo had seemed to have his fill of toying with them for the moment, the eyes shutting and the origin point of his body dissipating as the loud blasts of sound from the mouths gave way to a dull and eerie series of moans, gasps and groans, an uncomfortably unnerving background sound. Just what was this guy’s plan? Freaking out everyone? If he wanted them dead, he could’ve done so a long time ago, and as far as she could tell, he hadn’t stolen any of the cash or made any demands… It was great that they were all relatively unharmed, but who knew what this guy was thinking? She had to get out of here and find an opportunity to transform, since no one else was going to stop him.

It was at that point that the shapeshifter made another loud and sudden noise, but somehow, this one was different. She could hear the surprise and pain coming from the mouths around her, the genuinely startled gasp. Glancing about the room, she only caught sight of them for a few moments, but was that… A pair of hands? They were white, and seemingly capable of materialising out of thin air. With little hesitation, they were laying into any of the nearby eyes they could get their… Erm, hands on. Although, just as quickly as they had begun to strike, the hands vanished. Hit and run tactics? Well, with something this large, she couldn’t blame them, especially since she had no idea where to start with trying to stop something like this. Still, it seemed that striking the thing's eyes did seem to harm it. That was all the prompting she needed.

Turning to the nearest eye, which had closed its eyelid, Tess took a deep breath to steel herself before drawing back and delivering her own kick to the large eye. Instantly she recoiled a bit from squishy nature, but she recovered soon enough and launched back towards the door, striking another of the eyes, the same one, she didn’t really care. She just needed the damn thing to back off so she could get clear. Maybe her help wasn't needed again, but she wasn't going to wait until it was too late. This guy needed to be stopped if this was his second 'attack' in two days. Who knew how many incidents he'd cause before someone actually got severely hurt or worse? Slamming her foot into the eyeball again and twisting her heel, Terry really hoped the thing would keep its eyes shut. Her skirt wasn't very practical for this sort of thing.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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A short jerk of flesh all along the walls was the only sign that the abomination felt any contact from either Vic or Tess. The eyes that had remained open spotted the floating hands almost immediately, locking onto them and following their demented path along the attached girth. Watching as the hands tore the thin skin apart with ease. A few eyes that had been closed opened as well; glaring or squinting at everything in sight. Before Jericho noticed that one eye specifically, had found itself in a certain amount of pain.

For a moment, there was a flash of flesh: calf, then thigh, then- Oh hello- pain again as a foot connected with the wide open orbital organ. For a moment, the sounds ceased entirely, throwing the room into a state of uneasy silence... Then crackling bone and tearing flesh echoed their cacophony up into the air, the walls finding themselves cleared of the multi-eyed and mouthed flesh that had shortly taken up residence. An amorphous mass of ink and meat formed once again in the center of the lobby; swirling near soundlessly before fading from sight as a new form took shape.

The first to finish forming were the antlers and finger-like horns that swelled to life all over its flesh-less skull, shifting to the sides and leaving it's top bald and without anything to cover up the bone. The skull was eerily human, with two forked antler-like protrusions a few inches above where the ears would be; and those ears were replaced by a zombie-like flesh and fur based column. On each side of the head were stubby-arm like growths, though they were much shorter than an actual arm. They bulged at the farthest end from the body, extending into three finger-like horns that curved down and forward. The face of the skull was... Horrific, Jericho hadn't felt the need to waste (as if he had too little, this was more than he had ever had in a long while) any mass in the slightest. And so the face was barren, looking exactly how one would expect a human skull to look without the skin; save for the sunken points of bio-luminescent light that counted for the eyes. They seemed to burn, and with a quick thought, Jericho made the skull 'grin' wider. Skin and muscle stretched thinly over the cheeks and the rest of the face, leaving the nose unformed. A single hole sat there, steam clouding the air in front of the monstrous face. From the eye sockets and mouth, ink slowly dripped downward.

It looked as if it was bleeding, but the smile it was making... The beast gave a half-hearted chuckle, as a pair of lips flashed into existence; but only just. Teeth like a shark formed rather suddenly, a vicious smile in place of the otherwise comical grin (at least, to Jericho it was comical.) Then the body erupted into sight: thin, wraith-like shoulders and narrow chest came into view. The chest itself was thinly skinned like the face above it, with the shoulders covered in coarse, spiky fur. Fur that rose up and surrounded the jaw and chin; layered with spines just under the longer hairs. A pair of arms extended downward, just as thin as the chest itself though made thick by the muscles under the skin, and then seemingly thicker still by the fur that coated the forearms. Spines erupted upwards on those, inches thick at the base, and pointed outward threateningly.

The hands were malformed, with seemingly no palm and nothing but dagger-long, curved claws reaching outward. They were black with ink, which dripped from them as well; small points reared backward on the underside of each talon, reminiscent of fishhooks, in a way. The fingers that supported each claw had only two knuckles, and of all the things on the form of the monster, were thick as meaty little clubs. Finally, almost as quickly as the arms, the legs came into view; missing fur as they came to the calves, but otherwise being just as thickly furred as the shoulders were. The calves were skinless, showing the muscles and tendons that could be found everywhere on the monstrous form, but were surrounded by a chitin covering; clear and glossy though seemingly flexible. The 'feet' were little more than clubs of keratin and bone, lacking nerves so as to avoid feeling pain. The sound they made was like that of high-heels clacking on tile.

It was tall too. Well over eight feet, and that only accentuated it's lack of any real fat or weight; seemingly. The monster straightened as it finished forming, the change from blob to genuine nightmare beast having only taken a few seconds at most. It glared at the threat it could see, steam leaving its nostril hole as the creature sighed outwardly- Then turned, giving a screeching, calamitous sound; blood once again spurting from the mouth as it tore its vocal cords apart to push the sound as loud and high that it would go. More attention for it, what with the clanging bell-like klaxon sound that flew from the monster, liquid chattering underneath only adding to the keening noise. It was a wholly 'unnatural' sound, something no animal had ever made- at least that Jericho knew of.

Jericho wanted the PCRT there like yesterday, and the change in form was just to add to his need for mobility. After making yet another screeching roar, it turned back and focused on the visible woman, snarling and letting one last cacophonous bellow erupt from it's maw. It was spoiling for a fight now. And unfortunately for the 'only' woman who had attacked him, Tess was the fight.

Yet unknown to the beast, or those inside the bank other than those who had recovered their wits enough to call, and call, and call again, three vans; filled with PCRT officers armed to the figurative teeth roared their path to the bank. Officers aplenty, their equipment tailored for combat against a parahuman who could change form at will, and was reported as doing so as they pleased. They accelerated in their rush to reach the bank, before any truly grievous harm could be caused. The sirens atop each vehicle screamed to life, eerily reminiscent of the scream Jericho had made not too long ago. They

The beast had locked eyes on Tess, though her name was unknown to it, and was proceeding forward. It moved slowly and ponderously, turning it's head from left to right, without ever taking its gaze off of the now much shorter woman, in comparison. To him, the monster, sound came into his eardrums sharply, eardrums on the outside of the body, within two indentations behind the finger-horns, like a lizards were. Highly sensitive as they were, enough that as he focused, he found that the rapid breathing of the people that still filled the bank was as easy to hear as his own screaming had been. Interesting.

As the monstrous form stalked towards Tess, he spoke up; voice crackling like sticks breaking underfoot. "So... A skirt? You kicked me in the eyes, in a skirt- nice underwear by the way- but I gotta ask... Is it a combat skirt, or just a skirt skirt?" Wow, awkward. This form was one that he truly expected to be difficult to converse in, but apparently... Not. At least that trademark shyness and rambling hadn't left him! Haha...

From a group of people to his left, he caught the sound of someone snickering. So with a quick tilt of his head, he gave another- strained- throat tearing scream, coating some of them in blood and ink. No time for peanut gallery to intrude on this! They promptly left, and the other civilians, seeing that the Changer was no longer paying attention to them, ducked out as well. He watched and once done, he turned back to the original focus of his attention and found that he was nearly in front of her, mouth stuck in a horrific facsimile of a smile. "I promise I'm not smiling at you intentionally, skulls are just weird, y'know? Anyways... So! As I was saying... You kicked me, and somehow managed to poke me in the eyes from a distance at the same time. Tell me your secrets! Cape." His voice had gone from aloof and carefree, to quiet and serious, and the silence that fell afterwards was tense. The burning light of the 'eyes' focused on the pupils of the human woman in front of him; no question in his mind that she was also parahuman. If only uncomprehending as to what her powers were.

He had begun leaning closer to her, voice crackling from a mouth that was a dentists worst nightmare; even if the teeth within were pearly white. "See now, I was told I needed to provide a distraction here, and nothin' more! PCRT show up, I have a little time havin' fun with people who seriously need to stop underestimating capes, and then I leave. No need for you to get involved. In fact, most of my shapes are just for intimidation! You don't want to deal with the ones that are meant for genuine fights. Believe me. So! G'wan! Skitter away." He had hoped before, that his actions were clearer now; why he hadn't hurt anyone and why he hadn't bothered to hold anyone for ransom or anythin' similar. But... Something just kept bothering him. This chick... looked kinda familiar.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK


If Vic currently had a jaw to drop, it would've been on the ground. It didn't take long for her shock to turn to admiration. She watched as the civilain teenage girl attempted to blind the monster with her kicks, and was inspired to contribute to the blinding with another hard, tissue-tearing jabs. She backed off as the monster stripped itself from the walls and exits, its mass congealing into a new, more capable form. Its eyes were now small, glowing coals - much harder targets to poke out.

Vic flew near to the girl who'd assisted in annoying the creature enough to get it away from the exits, hovering between her and the devil-beast the goopy flesh monster had turned into. An invisible cloud of gas was probably not the most comforting protector, but Vic floated by her nonetheless. Then the towering nightmare screamed. Christ, it knew how to hold a note.

"So... A skirt?"

The monster began to stalk closer and taunt the girl. Agh, shit. The exits were thankfully now open and the unfortunate stragglers who'd been caught behind the walls of flesh were getting their asses out of there. But the girl behind her wasn't running. The monster was blocking her path to the front exit, she couldn't run without an advantage attack being taken on her.

"I promise I'm not smiling at you intentionally, skulls are just weird, y'know?" At those words, a suspicion hatched in Vic's head. This skull-faced horror show's awkward-yet-casual manner of speech and the inky way it morphed between forms were reminiscent of the unforgettable character she had a run in with the other day. Her suspicion took the form of a frustrating thought that wouldn't surface. It was there, yet she wasn't entirely sure what was bothering her. "So! As I was saying... You kicked me, and somehow managed to poke me in the eyes from a distance at the same time. Tell me your secrets! Cape."

Ahh... crap? Vic generally quite liked having the cover of invisibility and the advantages her powers had over others when she was not known, but hiding behind the girl's skirts made her feel cowardly. She needed to get her out of here before the monster could trade blows with her. It would hardly be a fair trade. Thankfully, it wanted her out of there too, aaand also didn't want to fight. Damn, that was half of the reason she was doing this gig to begin with. Maybe she should've been relieved. But no.

An almost solid, concentrated gust of wind slammed into the girl's chest, pushing her across the bank to hold her up against the wall, about a meter off the ground. Vic dropped from the air then into a crouch, solid feet hitting the ground. She released her grip on the girl and allowed her to drop, shouted, "GET OUT OR HOLD ON!" and threw out her arm.

The small arc her arm made was followed by a rippling wave of air, which then moved with incredible speed to envelope her and the monster in a swirling, impenetrable wind wall. They stood in the eye of the storm, the girl safe on the other side and hopefully holding onto something. She could do her best to prevent her from being sucked into the wall, but it was a strain to change the nature of an unnaturally made natural disaster. Having a wall of wind sucking in, while wrapping it in a wind wall doing the opposite, was downright exhausting. Hopefully the girl would just get out. Vic could barely see her through her barrier, only a blurry figure.

She turned to the monster.

"So you're the distraction, then?" Her feet hovered from the ground, raising up until she came to eye-level. "Don't bother trying to break through it. The walls don't come down until yours do. Tell me where your friends are, and you can go. If not..." She winked at him through the eyeholes of her mask, floating backwards. "Go ahead and intimidate me, bad boy."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK


A slow, visible blink was given by Jericho as the originally invisible cape made her appearance. His face originally was going to pull into a snarl, something resembling anger- But it was quickly wiped away by the sudden shout that came from the other parahuman. He barely caught hold of her warning before he stumbled back just a bit; two tiny steps. His ears, sensitive that they were, heard the way the air rushed and pressed into the other girl's chest. He wondered if 'Skirts' was in pain, but ignored it when a wall of wind roared to life around him and the recently invisible cape. Wow.

"Don't bother trying to break through it. The walls don't come down until yours do," A small, quick thought found some inane irony in her statement, and that was definitely a familiar voice... And oddly sultry to the ears. "Tell me where your friends are, and you can go. If not..." For just a moment, a truly idiotic moment, the Changer actually considered telling this terribly familiar cape that he didn't know where Vic or Alex or the guys were right now. "Go ahead and intimidate me, bad boy."

He caught the wink. And for a moment, his tongue nor mind could bring up anything to quip back to her with... But only a moment, in the next he immediately popped off his first question. "Uh... You, comin' onto me? What're you, the vaguely sensual fun police? I ain't too keen on breath play so uh." He drew a blank for another few moments, staring with an equally blank face. His voice remained crackly, but now was underlain with a curious amount of, well, curiosity. "Where did you even come from? Oh! Do I know you from somewhere? Your voice is REALLY familiar to me!" A quick, flashed smile, "I mean, I met this chick yesterday who sounds just like you, but not muffled you know? But maybe that's just me being really forgetful.... Anyways! OH WAIT!" He perked up rapidly, his form melting to ink and flesh again as he thought over her voice.

The head of the nightmare beast stayed where it was in relation to the flesh mass that was now forming, the new shape showing almost immediately. It stood up tall, shoulders reaching where the original head had been before. The face there kept speaking as the undefined shape began... Defining, itself. "Did you get a note thing too!? Man it would be so coincidental if you did, you know? Like some sort of divine coincidence! But that's dumb huh. Oh man I should've asked Vic if she got a message on her phone or something, do you think she has a phone? ... Wait, do you even know who Vic is? Aw man, she'd have a field day if she knew about this! Then again, she'll probably see it on the news huh? Do you think we'd make the news?"

Oh jesus he was babbling, and all the while he was still changing, just as rapidly as before. Six elephent thick legs were holding up a body that was as long as the other form was long, curving upward just slightly as a new skull formed around the original shape of the first. Scales flickered into sight, slick with ink before darkening into ink-blue. Muscles pushed up under those scales, giving the form the real weight that Jericho carried around with him at all times. A vaguely reptilian skull began talking in place of the first; though fur and lips were formed on it instead of scales and hard skin. "Oh man, I hope you like fire by the way, I almost never get to use this form!"
... That exclamation was random, and it didn't seem to follow any of what the shapeshifter had been saying before; and apparently he didn't even notice the jump in conversation that he had made. Were they conversating? Eugh, focusing was hard.

For a moment, the changer stopped shifting forms entirely, staying still as he quickly finished off the features he needed. A wide, broad body that suited the six legs that held it up, scaled and furred alike, with the fur following the spine; spiney protrusions rising up from the fur itself. A tail formed last, curling up into the air with chintinous segmentations. The tail tip was cruelly curved, eerily reminscint of a scorpion, if only on the 'tail-end'- ahahehehe... of some biologically dubious dragon... Beast. Thing. Jericho had stopped talking, and as soon as the tail finished it's formation- he had forgone the wings for now- a gout of heat erupted from his mouth. Preceeded by a long hissing exhalation; the dragon-like beast sent a wave of heated air over the vape in front of him.

The lips of the monster pulled into a smile, one that was entirely too excited considering the actually somewhat dangerous form he had taken. The tail whipped around, dancing in the wind wall for a moment before rocketing back out of the shearing force of air behind him. He was missing the stinger, having let it become detached from his body to gauge just how powerful the wind was... And found it a tad much. Fun.

Apparently, fun enough to pull a short bout of excitedly hysteric snickering out of him. Jericho was nervous! A fight against another, relatively powerful, parahuman! It was a first, and quite frankly it was just a little terrifying! However, a smaller part of himself; one that found existence in his mind after the first true act of cannibalism, was even more excited than the rest of the Changer. That tiny part was the part that drove him to 'swing first' as it were, lashing the stinger-less portion of the tail in Vic's direction, unknowing that it was her. Should it strike, it would be a strike that would've knocked the air out of anyone not prepared for any amount of combat.

A grand amount of passing thought was given to the status of the other girl, the skirt, before all his attention was once again back on the cape across from him; adrenaline fueled as he was, it felt as if time had stopped altogether! Which obviously wasn't true but...


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK

#, as written by Tanman
◄:Terry ‘Tess’ Farina:►

No. No no no. Tess backed up to the wall as the flesh that had coated the walls withdrew and sucked back into the centre, pooling and growing into a mass before beginning another horrific transformation into a nightmarish being. Tess wasn’t good with this squeamish stuff. Or horror in general. So why did the person robbing the bank have to be so scary? Blood and guts just didn’t sit right with her, and even though visually the creature was terrifying, it was the damn noises that freaked her out the most. It was the unnatural, bodily noises of pain and disfigurement that really set her off. The bones snapped and creaked with the stress of the way they were bent. Liquid splashing and squelching as it squeezed out of fractures and broken pockets of flesh. She really wanted to hurl.

A piercing screech of… God, she didn’t know how to describe it, but it rang in her ears and rattled her brain. It was strained, gargled through liquid and rising into a crescendo as the beast finished its transformation, Tess opening her eyes to the eerie silence, not even remembering when she’d shut them. Thankfully, the new monster that formed wasn’t nearly as gross or disgusting as the previous one. Still, it was all the more intimidating with its large stature and haunting appearance: A ghostly skeleton demon with long and sharp blackened claws. Tess didn’t really pay too much attention to those however, as the most gripping feature of the new creature was that of its face. She stood, transfixed as she watched it, unable to tear herself away as her legs refused to work. Glowing, soulless orbs for eyes that bored into her mind and another macabre smile that seemed to delight in her fear were bearing down on her as it began its approach. Ink dripped from the cavities in its face, like blackened blood tears; leaving a stained trail of darkness where it walked.

With another of its bone-chilling roars, it stalked closer, though with no sense of urgency. Like it knew she was cornered and had nowhere to run. Prey. Then, it spoke, pausing in its steps every now and then to punctuate its words. "So... A skirt?” Tess visibly paled as the being spoke more and more. It was creepy. In more way then one. Perhaps she would’ve been more embarrassed at the mention of her underwear had she not been so terrified. There was no witty comeback or answer to his questions. Just shivering and fear, amplified as he roared in the face of the boys that were nearby, spitting blood and goop over them. As the beast turned back to her, clearly focused on her rather than anyone else, the rest of the people in the room fled as fast as they could. Abandoning her to it. Not that she could blame them.

More questions came her way, bellowing from the beast as steam wafted from its nose and mouth. It had mistaken her for the one behind those hands earlier, and seemed none too pleased by her ‘heroic’ display. It was right that she was a cape, but it had completely the wrong idea. Obviously it didn’t realise how scared she was, or maybe it thought she was just acting, because even if Tess wanted to, she wasn’t in the mindset to answer or do much of anything. Still, she could listen. He was a distraction for something bigger and apparently, he had no intention of harming anyone. At least, not in his eyes. The unconscious people and the dizziness she’d felt from the screaming earlier apparently didn’t count. The way he was speaking, she was beginning to see a strange immaturity, but in a way, that was even more worrisome in that she wasn’t sure she could rationalise with the guy.

Then, before Tess had much more time to think on it, she was sent flying. Though not by the monster as she’d expected. Wind swept her clean off her feet and to the side, slamming her somewhat painfully into the wall, but at least she was clear of the creature. Squirming a bit against the wind pressure that held her there, suddenly, she was dropped, coughing a bit as she tried to catch her breath from being winded.

"GET OUT OR HOLD ON!" Was the command as Tess sat up, looking to the source. Evidently, this was the cape that had attacked the monster earlier, clad completely in white hiding most of their features. Given the situation, Tess was quick to trust and follow her advice, holding onto the doorframe while simultaneously going to move through it. Thankfully, she’d been quick enough on her reaction to stop the newly formed whirlwind from sucking her in, though it still took a fair bit of effort to pull herself out and free, unable to see what was happening in the middle of the storm. Struggling out to the doorway, Tess took shelter behind the wall, still peeking around the corner to try and judge what was happening. With that crazy wind wall flowing, she’d probably be more of a hindrance than a help if she changed and got in there. Giving a soft yelp and ducking as some sharp black stinger appendage impaled itself in the wall she was hiding behind, Tess hoped that was a good sign that Whiteout or whatever they were called was winning.

For now, she’d watch and see if she needed to step in, perhaps once the dust of this initial scuffle settled.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

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Holy shit, Vic thought, It IS him.

She stared at the babbling mess in front of her, feet slowly lowering to the ground. She barely took notice of the distorting body horror as Jericho transformed, being too absorbed to gawk at it.

"Did you get a note thing too!? Man it would be so coincidental if you did, you know? Like some sort of divine coincidence! But that's dumb huh. Oh man I should've asked Vic if she got a message on her phone or something, do you think she has a phone? ... Wait, do you even know who Vic is? Aw man, she'd have a field day if she knew about this! Then again, she'll probably see it on the news huh? Do you think we'd make the news?"

Vic facepalmed. This guy. Words could not express...

... how annoyed she was. She almost just sat down then and there with her arms up. What was she supposed to be doing here again? Jericho wasn't going to rob the bank, probably no one was. What was he supposed to be the distraction for? Did he even know that himself? Yeah... something about him made her doubt it.

"Yeah, maybe," she mumbled distractedly, "She'll be ecstatic."

"Oh man, I hope you like fire by the way, I almost never get to use this form!"

She raised her gaze to properly take in the furry, dragon-scorpion thing that now stood before her. Wendigo deserved props for his creativity. This form was better than any B-grade monster she'd ever seen before. She flinched at the heat that came too close to her face and watched as his stinger come loose and was swept up in the overpowering wind-currents.

Wendigo's tail came hurtling towards her. She felt the disturbance as it cut through the air almost too late. She shut her eyes as it cleaved through her stomach. Her legs and chest hovered, the clear gap between them wispy, mist seemingly rising from the "wounds". The gap increased as the mists crawled up her torso and down her legs, seemingly eating her away into nothing. Anyone could tell she was smiling from her eyes, which only opened briefly as she was sucked back into the wind wall, flashing for a moment before she was completely gone.

She burst through the other side, her torso and head appearing as she looked around wildly for anything to help her situation. Her eyes immediately fixated on the stinger embed in the wall, and the violet head of hair poking out from behind it. One arm formed and pointed at the stinger, while she looked directly at the girl.

"Chuck that here, will you?"

She snatched the curved blade out of the air as it was promptly tossed to her, letting the wind part for it so it could make its way to her rather than be deflected by the winds pushing out from around her wall.

"Cheers," she said, giving the girl a casual salute with a finger gun, before merging back with the whirlwind. This girl was awesome. It made her consider how handy a sidekick could be.

She was spat back out on the other side, materialized as she shot from the wall to hover over the back of the monster. She dug the point of the stinger into the base of Wendigo's neck, restraining herself from piercing through.

"Want this back?" She mused, "Tell me about the note - and you don't feel your own poison."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

    by StorminJericho

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An excited, if terribly annoyed, sigh echoed out of Jericho's maw; just the memory was irritating, like he had forgotten something important! Oh well. Might as well explain... and get this chick off his back! Jeez. The spines standing in the fur of his skull twitched, sinking into the flesh as the head itself turned completely around, a long oil black tongue lashing out and impaling itself on the stinger. Ink swelled from both objects, merging and then vanishing back into the main source.
In Vic's hand, she felt the change from solid to liquid; incredibly warm, near scalding, before it pulled itself out of her hand. Jericho kept his head turned towards her, voice crackling as it had been before, as if liquid was caught in the throat. "That was weak. Your quips are weaaak," The changer drew out the vowel, rolling the human eyes that sat in the skull of a reptile. "But hey, if you really want to play all rough and tumble, maybe I'll jus' play along hey?" The sentence ended on a question, just for a moment. Then the tail was again lashing forward; chitin segments bursting in fountains of odd gore. Strings of some goopy material lashed out from where the segments ruptured; flaying out into the air like silly string. He had aimed to attach it to Vic's arm; her chest and her hair. Her mask, Jericho was thankful, would have kept most of it from actually getting on her face, if he didn't miss.

The strings remained connected to the tail, dripping oily ink as well as some... Oddly clear liquid, giving the already iridescent ink even more of a sheen than it garnered. He thought about his plan for a second before pausing entirely, suddenly remembering that she was asking about the note. "Oh right! Anyways, so, I spent the day durin' the morning wandering around! This guy on a motorcycle almost hit me, and I may or may not have done a loud in his face... anyways! So! After the fun bike guy, I was hiding out in an alley to calm down and get my thoughts back... but then this fucking 'Pekah' bitch," whoa. That was some intense anger; the kind of intensity that surprised even Jericho, "decided that to give someone a note, she had to kick 'em down and then leave 'em with a bottle. 'M supposed to go back tonight to get my 'pay', but honestly, I don't trust it. If she shows up, I'll eat her as soon as any funny gamboling starts."

It hadn't occurred to Jericho, that while he disliked to do so, grudges were a thing he apparently was capable of holding. Especially against shadowy individuals who couldn't be 'civil' as he saw it. A long sigh left him, mind leaving the memory behind as he instead turned his attention completely back to the flighty cape. "You know... This is actually a breeze, I figured you'd actually be trying to kill me or something! Most people don't ever mind trying to slaughter me... when they're capes at least, or when they're scared enough, I suppose. I would appreciate it if you didn't though! I gotta figure out if Vic's band'll be playin' anywhere anytime soon! I haven't really heard their old music just yet!"

The Changer was rambling again, strings of ink swaying in the gale that surrounded him and the- still unknown- cape. But... he thought it was nice! Having someone to talk at, who seemed to take this just as seriously as he was; which was to say, not in the slightest. His furred head turned away from her, though a mouth opened just where the stinger tip has been, smiling away while the skull itself twisted around to look at the wind wall. Maw opening wide, there was nothing but the sound of Jericho giggling up the windy one. "This'll be fun, hehehe."

That was random. He hadn't MEANT to say that, but... eh! Oh well. Ink sprayed out from his mouth, sets of spinnerets hidden under the tongue and extending from the roof of the mouth; rope-thick webbing. Black and shining like the strands that flew from his opened tail, if immensely thicker, coated in a chitin that . The webbing flew into the wind wall; getting spun around and flung every which way into the bank. All of it still connected to Jericho's monstrous skull. His tail began sinking back into him, and as it did, the mouth that smiled and talked up at Vic suddenly burst forward; becoming a club of bone and chitin that rocketed itself toward her chest, just as the stingerless tail had before. Now, speaking of the tail, the strands of ink that were attached to everywhere near he and Vic in the center of the cyclone, were now connected to the space just between his 'hips'.

There was no pausing, no warning even; for one moment, all that the Changer did was spread webbing and ink everywhere... Then, with a hissing sound; with the formation of one bladder growing in his tongue itself, stretched tissue rapidly swelling a skull the methane produced by his constant digestion filling the new organ almost immediately. Jericho focused then, concentrating with a disgusted face as he brought another, new organ to life right by the air bladder. A sickened cough echoed out of Jericho, body lurching to the side just for a moment, before a intimately familiar sound echoed its way into Vic's ears.

scrape-scrape-SHCK, and then fire. Gouts of fire, lines of fire; traveling up and along the webbing spread about the room. Then Jericho's head turned and the stream of fire that came from the methane-potent saliva abruptly cut off, the Changer giving a ever so slightly manic grin as it did. "Trial by fire~!" Came the elated shout, focus turning to the ceiling as powerful legs sent him rocketing upward, a sheathe of bone forming around his shoulders and skull as he broke through the tile on the ceiling. Scrabbling and clawing his way to the roof, whether or not the two capes on the ground floor followed him didn't matter.

He couldn't help the cackling laughter that erupted from him abruptly, dizzied for a moment from the amount of blood he had manipulated inside his own system. His power, while it allowed him to morph his biology at will, didn't really agree with the formation of metal through his blood. He had only ever tried to form a blade of iron once, and only once. It took a while for the ink to result his body with the iron missing from him, and once he made it, he couldnt reconsume it.

Jericho coughed, letting the makeshift spark striker fall out of his maw. He stared at the metal there, his eyes focusing on the inherently wrong creation there. He shuddered and turned his attention out to the skyline; ears taking in the wailing sirens of the PCRT vans on their way. More cackling laughter, and then a burst of terrifying sound. 'Here I am!' Screamed the shriek that tore out of his throat; multiple mouths and vocal cord sets opening on the reptilian body he wore, adding onto the sheer volume he was giving out. A keening bell- again- mixed with what sounded like an air-raid siren; once again underlain by some terrifying chattering gurgle. After he finished his scream, he snapped up the makeshift spark striker again, swallowing it and taking it back into the whole of his being.

By sheer luck, or by the whim of nature itself; wind pushed from behind Jericho, carrying his 'voices' out just a bit farther than he was capable of pushing them. A challenge to every challenger who attempted to usurp this king of the hill. The Changer, in his roaring and shrieking, had forgotten all about Vic; forgotten that he was technically fighting with someone... So, he dove back down into the room; roaring and cackling all the way down as the bulk of his body thrashed about at random. The fiery lines of silk and ink that he had strewn about the room were still blazing, some even caught in his fur and set that ablaze as well! Which... normally would've concerned Jericho, if he weren't totally expecting it.

Now he was a blazing monster, fur ablaze and reeking horrifically. Maybe... the fire was a bit much. Some of the things inside the bank were catching fire as well, oops, uh... "Oh. Hahaha whoops."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK


There was a muted grunt of pain as the stinger slipped through Vic's fingers, dissolving into burning, black gunk. As Wendigo insulted her quips, she felt honestly offended.

At least I don't blab out my life story in the middle of a FIGHT, she thought indignantly, right before she heard a disturbance behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see a spray of some gory substance being discharged from his tail. She immediately turned ethereal as it lashed out at her. She split around Wendigo, becoming one and visible again in front of the monster's eyes. She was prepared to punch him in his reptilian face, but he began to answer her question, so she just floated out of biting range and listened, hands in pockets.

"So! After the fun bike guy, I was hiding out in an alley to calm down and get my thoughts back... but then this fucking 'Pekah' bitch -"

Vic visible stiffened then, her brain whirring as she took in the rest of his story. What the hell was the person wanting her to stop the bank robbery, also the one enlisting the person to rob the bank? What was the point of that? Were they just curious about what a stand-off between Nobody and Wendigo would be like? No - Jericho said he was supposed to be a distraction... she was part of the distraction too, wasn't she.

"... honestly, I don't trust it. If she shows up, I'll eat her as soon as any funny gamboling starts."

"You better share," she muttered under her breath, her fists tightening within her pockets.

Her grouchiness was watered down as Jericho kept doing what he did best - rambling. Vic smirked as he brought up her name again. He's obsessed, she internally sighed, shaking her head.

"Is that Vic from I Really Hope We Don't Crash? Heard that they're gonna be playing at Connections tonight," she said, her amusement showing through, when suddenly that icky, black silly string burst from Wendigo's mouth. She didn't bother becoming untouchable. She simply weaved through the slick black projectiles, whipping her head around to get a glimpse of what was happening. The chords were getting through the wind wall and were attaching to things on the other side. Vic frowned beneath her mask. The sticky matter was strong enough that the wind couldn't dislodge it from whatever they were attached to. Wendigo, despite projecting bits of hit matter through the wall, was having a perfectly fine time keeping on his feet. Vic focused on the wall, trying to boost its speed and mass, when Wendigo's skull crashed into her chest.

She made no noise at the pain she felt. She was pushed back, then let herself drop and crouch on top of the thick vines protruding from Jericho's body. She went into a coughing fit, hand on top of where the biggest impact was made. God, she wished that Capes had the common decency to not go for the fucking boobs. I mean, yeah, she did her best to make people forget they existed on her, but they were still there.

In the moments she was recovering from the hit, she heard the hissing. She looked up just a second before fire was blasted from Wendigo's mouth. She changed forms too late. Her energy was being exerted on reinforcing the wind wall to try and dislodge the black cords, causing her disappearing act to be delayed. She was caught up in the initial blast, screamed, then leapt up in the air off the cords to avoid the next wave of fire rushing down them to greet her. She disappeared as she jumped, hurriedly zipping low to the ground where the cords weren't present. Fire wasn't the healthiest thing for either of her forms.

She involuntarily materialized belly-down on the ground, smouldering. Her white hoodie was darkened with flame damage. There was a crash as Jericho broke through the ceiling and Vic barely glanced up at the plummeting rubble before throwing her arms out and dispersing the wind wall with a loud WHOOSH. She crossed her arms over her head protectively as the wind came roaring back to her.

Her eyes opened and she looked up to see the floating rubble above her. The place was practically destroyed - a hole in the ceiling, fire, rubble smashing craters in the ground... but it wasn't robbed. Yay.

Vic stomped her foot down and threw the rubble that had been sent down to crush her flying. Chucks of ceiling slammed against walls and a miniature whirlwind formed around her, snaking her upwards through the hole like a worm. She came out on the roof just in time to hear the terrifying battle cry of Wendigo, right before he scrambled back into the hole. Vic's brow twitched. Did he just ignore me?

The whirlwind around her narrowed into a arrow-like shape. She pressed her hands together in front of her and let out a little puff of air from her lips, before her projectile came down full force. The concentrated wind slammed into Wendigo's back, grinding him into the ground despite his mass. Vic blew out again, this time adding to the force of the current. Wind tugged on her clothes roared in her ears. She pushed harder. Hard enough to break bones. Suddenly, she stopped.

The strength of the wind faltered until it no longer weighed down on Wendigo's back. She lowered herself down to stand by the edge of the hole, leaning over it and peering down at the monster.

"If you're not going to rob the bank, I'm just gonna go," she called down, "This was fun. We'll probably have to do it again sometime. See you 'round, Wendy."

And she began to fly away. She swept over the top of PCRT vans making their way to the bank to detain the creature inside, quite happy to let someone else deal with it. She was getting hungry.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Terry 'Tess' Farina (Hush) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody)

0.00 INK

#, as written by Tanman
◄:Terry ‘Tess’ Farina:►

“Wow…” Tess murmured to herself in mild awe as the white cape emerged – Or at least, a part of them did. It actually was pretty amazing with the wispy nature of their being, swirling haze suddenly giving way to a figure. Whoever he was, he was pretty cool. Forming out of the nothingness once more, an arm and hand gestured to her with an open hand. "Chuck that here, will you?" He asked, and Tess immediately obliged, wrenching the stinger from the wall and tossing it across the room. Almost perfectly, it landed in his hand, and with a quick salute and thanks, he was off to fight the monster once more. Tess wondered if she came off that confident to others when she was Hush.

Continuing to observe the action from the safety of her position, it was still incredibly hard to tell what was happening in there, even for her. The whirlwind was still roaring, which was probably a good sign for the white cape though. From amongst the cyclone, more of that creature’s body was flung out, though this time as thick strands of black goop. Spiralling about the whirlwind, they seemed out of control until they hit the walls, floor, ceiling, anything they could attach to before holding steady, shuddering amongst the force of the wind. Was it trying to anchor itself to better strike at the white cape? Briefly, she heard the sound of a scream from within the wind wall, before things suddenly got a lot crazier.

The inky wires that had affixed themselves about the room began running flames down their length, setting ablaze like fuses, yet remaining strung about as if becoming a web of fire itself. The room turned red and orange with the hot light, the inferno whipping about and remaining furious even amongst the intense winds they were subjected to. Naturally, more than a few cinders and sparks were flying about the room now, setting alight to furniture and scraps of paper caught in the cyclone. If the sandwich shop was bad, this bank was going to be a whole lot worse. As the shadowy figure of Wendigo leapt upwards and broke through the ceiling, it seemed ‘worse’ was a bit of an understatement.

Shrinking back through the doorframe, both to avoid the fiery heat and the rubble falling in the wake of the shapeshifters destruction; Tess kept an eye on the white cape as he came into view once more. Dispelling the whirlwind that he had formed, in a quick motion of his arms above his head he forced the wind into a protective barrier of sorts, the air pressure holding the stones above him as it continued rushing upward. Then, with little more effort, he tossed it all to the side, though the fact that the powers seemed to rely on physical motions was an intriguing factor to note. A necessary component of the ability? Or just something to help them focus? Without any hesitation, Tess watched the young man form a cyclone around his lower body and fly upwards to continue the battle.

Beginning to make her way back outside so she could continue to watch the fight, Terry stumbled at the loud thud behind her as Wendigo hit the floor of the bank once more, fur aflame and… Ughh, that smell really reeked. Why did she have to have a sensitive nose? Pinching it to block the stench, Terry didn’t have to worry about it too long as Whiteout made his presence known again. This time however, it was a blast; a reckless amount of air forcing down into the monsters back and driving it into the ground so hard it splintered the concrete. Falling backwards from the air that rushed past her in the aftermath of the strike, Tess remained where she was seated as she listened to him speak from somewhere high above them.

"If you're not going to rob the bank, I'm just gonna go. This was fun. We'll probably have to do it again sometime. See you 'round, Wendy." With that, she could only assume that the hero of the hour had left, leaving the shapeshifting monster to… Ah crapbaskets! The PCRT! She’d been so focused on the battle she hadn’t heard the approaching sirens, nor thought about the fact they’d be on their way here! She had to get out of here before they started asking her even more questions about what she was doing hanging about the scene of another crime!

Moving to the corner of the room, Tess was thankful the place was so dark and destroyed that no one would see her transform. Even the technology around seemed down for some reason. It was nothing particularly flashy – at least, not to her - Just a quick shimmer of blue-white light pulsing over her body before dispersing in a swarm of particles, morphing her clothes and leaving Hush where she once stood. Moving up to the window and glancing out to the rooftop, Tess briefly pictured it in her mind before forming her lightblade, making a quick vertical sweep to cut open the vibrant azure portal. Quickly stepping through, Hush vanished from the bank and reappeared on the nearby roof, immediately ducking down to avoid being seen before looking further up ahead. With another quick slice, she was away, zipping past the PCRT vehicles without even being spotted. Leaping off the side of the building to slide into the dark alleyway below, Hush did a few quick checks to ensure the coast was clear before ending her transformation.

Returning back to regular old Tess, the girl gave a soft sigh of relief as she’d once again managed to preserve her secret. Now she just had to work out how to get back to school and explain where she’d been and what had happened.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jericho Amile (Wendigo/Ghoul) Character Portrait: Vic Martel (Nobody) Character Portrait: Heroes League of America

0.00 INK


Jericho was blinded by the pain for a moment too long. Vision spotty and chest struggling to inhale. He had felt the wind press down on his spine, before his legs gave out painfully. Then pressure built and slammed him against the concrete hard enough to shatter more than enough ribs to send him into a state of quiet shock. "Oh..." Breathed the beast, 'oh', whimpered the larger than life monster.

Then he focused and mended his ribs from the inside. Ink pulsing along with his heart beat as it whipped his ribs back together and began shifting his form again. Nothing fancy this time, nothing terribly horrific. Horns sank back into the head as a new organ grew in his throat; eyes narrowing on the fleeing white hoodie in the distance. Fur receded, abruptly cutting off the stench of burning hair and ink. The changer slowly stood back up, the middle pair of legs sinking back into his body as two equally thick arms sprouted from where the 'shoulders' would be on a humanoid form. Four talons extended from the four digits that came with the arms as they pressed flat along his sides.

Hissing came from the scaled form; luminescent eyes squinting as he took note of the three vans that were barreling towards him... Jericho took a deep inhale, thoughts churning with the need for more- Ah. An idea.

On the next inhale, Jericho created a secondary digestive system, two 'stomachs' coalescing to life through the ink, pouring changed mass into it as the organs filled with churning ink. A quick smile flashed over the changers scaled face, lips pulling back all along the skull to reveal teeth in the shape of shark-like triangles. His skin, the pigmentation in it, began pulsing and throbbing with ink; brightening, darkening, flashing and sometimes even bursting upward to change the texture as rapidly as could be. Which... Was pretty rapid. At the end of every limb, mass flowed and concentrated, becoming heavy and thick like clubs with grabby bits.

He was done creating what he needed, and so rocketed forward; scales vanishing and becoming feathers that pressed themselves flat against the body as the thickly muscled legs gripped the ground as best they could and launched him forward. Ain't as good as when I'm flyin' but... it would have to do. Inside the vans, the PCRT officers had all of about three seconds of warning before their first van was rocked by the form of a monster. Ahead of them, the other two teams could spy the form of a car sized dragon charging forward, mouth opened as the windshield shattered. They watched, as all they could do was watch; having been caught in the act of just getting TO the bank, as the feathers that covered the beast became scales again. A clubbed tongue rocketed out of the Changers maw, striking the officer in the passenger seat straight in the face before sticking. Jericho's head yanked back and threw said officer over his shoulder, mass fading from the legs and tail for just a moment as the muscular tongue became even more muscled. Instead of being dragged, the non-cape went flying into the side of a nearby building; slumping and staying down on the ground once there. The man in the drivers seat had no time to move either, as a sudden club of bone rocketed into his face from the forearm of the right leg. He slumped in his seat, sent into 'sleep' by the sheer force.

Jericho, as he charged the first van he came upon, jumped onto the hood and roof of it; roaring now and leaping over the other vehicles as they came to a screeching stop and began opening their doors to get at the bounding dragon beast. They were swept aside and left gasping for air, a tail of muscle and heavy bone slamming into their bodies and tossing them aside. The stricken were treated to the sight of the chest swelling up. When the beast landed on the street behind the two cars, he swiveled about and raised the two arms that were pressed against his sides; two more sticky-clubbed tongues rocketing out and slamming into the chests of two officers as they raised what Jericho took to be some oddly designed fire-extinguishers. He yanked the arms back as the tongues retracted as well; sending the two men flying and tumbling down the street, one of them actually flinging past the retreating form of Nobody before coming to a stop against a parked car.

To the PCRT, Jericho wasn't pulling punches, and those that went down could be counted dead. To Jericho, this was a lot of restraint, and it was vaguely irritating. But! These people were merely doing their jobs. The Changer's reverie was broken by the sudden appearance of some foam-like substance that landed on his shoulder and spread down his arm to the asphalt. He gave a blink, then rapidly detached the limb from his body once he realized that the 'foam' was nigh impossible to break free of.

Needless to say, Jericho began ending things with the officers quickly. He grabbed another with one of the tongues; yanking the man into his grip before flinging him into the form of another, causing them both to crumple against a nearby PCRT van while they scrambled to get up. Their movements were thwarted by the sudden appearance of webbing that held them against the van and the asphalt; just as the containment-foam would've done to Jericho. The beast sighed, jumping out of the way of another spray of foam before he retaliated by grabbing, catching, then slinging the same officer who sprayed him down the street with the others.

While none of the PCRT officers would die today, they most certainly would have broken bones, and bruises tenfold. He thought, at least, that they would have broken bones, and be mostly fine. Granted throwing human beings around like toys when you had almost three times, if not four times, the mass they did... Well, they would be fine right?

When the last officer no longer stood up, Jericho turned around and charged down the street towards Vic, screeching a battle cry the whole way. He dropped the dragon form halfway there, opting instead for his namesake shape instead; battle-cry becoming the screaming wail that deer and elk were so oft' known for. Other than the imposing rack of antlers that sprouted from his head.

Officers down, out as they were for the count... One reached for his radio and called it in as it was. "HLA assistance required, prosperity bank robbery escalating. Cape on presumed rampage." A quick response was sent in return, and yet another force of the law began it's approach to Jericho and Vic. Though these were parahumans as well. And they were prepared for his tricks. The officer who gave the call, in turn gave a quick rundown of what Jericho was capable of, having only seen the webbing and the chameleon-like tongues, and the shift from reptile to humanoid elk beast.