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Ethan Railee

A helpless empath with no control over his powers.

0 · 1,893 views · located in Terra

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nemo

Description

Ethan Railee


"There is no crueler punishment on God's green earth then the ability to feel another's suffering."


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Profile

Age: 17

Height: 6'

Build: Toned / Athletic Ectomorphic

Ethan stands at 6', his posture slightly slack and his hands usually stuffed in the abysmal confines of his jean pockets. His hair is long and black, flowing down across his boyishly-handsome face and ash grey eyes. While not terribly strong or muscular on first-glance, Ethan's physique is toned and athletic; hardened from an impoverished childhood riddled with pain and stern labor.

His clothing is simple and plain; the young man usually preferring darker colors and neutral themes in his attire. Most often Ethan can be seen dressed casually in a long jacket thrown over a loose T-Shirt, matched unimpressively with a pair of faded jeans and ragged-but-sturdy sneakers. Despite his unimposing apparel, Ethan exudes a dark and strangely attractive aura. He's the 'loner' type, keeping quietly to himself in the solace of his mind. The mystery boy standing idly in the corner.

But Ethan's most fascinating characteristic is also his most tragic: Ethan is an empath. Endowed with the uncanny ability to read and absorb the feelings and emotions of other sentient beings, empathy is as much a curse to Ethan as it is a gift. It is a force the young man struggles to suppress every day of his life for the sake of his own sanity; to block out the pleading sensitivities of every passing cry-for-help in every tormented soul.

Nonetheless, Ethan understands the usefulness of his abilities. Not only can the young man feel-out the sensations of others, but he can destroy them completely... by taking them upon himself. Grief, anger, insanity, addiction, and every pain be it physical or psychological... Ethan takes them all... and destroys himself piece by piece in doing so.

With no sense of purpose or direction, Ethan's life was in a downward spiral. The boy appeared destined to die a young man, until he was saved from an early grave by a Terran Militiaman. After assessing his power and determining his strength, they offered him a position among their ranks, promising him a new life and the training he needed to understand his abilities. With little alternative, Ethan agreed, eager to find his place in the world and master his wretched curse.

Equipment

Besides his casual attire, Ethan typically has his wallet on-hand, a meager supply of Terran credits available to him at any given time. His license is valid, and the boy is not smiling in his frame-picture. A small pocket-knife is usually accessible to him, confined safely somewhere in his jeans. Besides all of this, Ethan often carries a small notebook and ink pen in which he keeps a collections of hand-written poetry.

So begins...

Ethan Railee's Story

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan Railee shivered a bit as he touched Kianna's cold, near-emotionless psyche. He'd knows these types of minds before: as cautious and calculating as they were ruthless and ambitious. While that didn't necessarily make Kianna a bad person, it certainly made Ethan more then a bit suspicious.

As Ezrael finished his opening-rant, it suddenly occurred to Railee that he possessed every right to add something. There were no authoritative ranks in the Militia for a reason. Ever Militiaman was equal and had his own say in affairs. Technically, Ethan and Shei had just as much power in this little interrogation as Ezrael himself.

"It's uh..." Ethan stammered as he interjected, embarrassed almost as soon as he opened his mouth, "...it's uh... it's not just a 'task force', though. Helping people is... y'know... a bit part of the equation... but that's not all his is. The Militia is kind of a community too." He nodded, happy that he'd managed to say what he meant to say. "We're a family. We look out for each other." The protection of the Militia had been a huge reason for Ethan's joining. Prior to his membership, he'd been a deadbeat mendicant who coped with his uncontrollable power with excessive drinking or drug-abuse. Finding a home with the Militia had finally endowed Ethan with a sense of purpose and direction.

As Shei came near, Ethan would speak to her quietly, his voice low enough to avoid disturbing the meeting. "How was the physical? I heard you passed."

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#, as written by Nemo
Oh yeah. Food. It took Ethan only a moment to remember the delicious salad sitting at their feet. Serving himself a nice plateful, the empath began to punch happily on his lunch.

"Why do you want to join the Militia?" Ethan asked Kianna between mouthfuls, "what about the group appeals to you? I mean, risking your life on a daily-basis for people you don't know without pay? What's attractive about that to you?"

Ethan had chuckled at Shei's mental image, briefly remembering her own little display of power when he'd met her at the restaurant. A woman who could make somebody see or hear ANYTHING on a whim was certainly not someone to be trifled with. Railee was just happy she was on their side...

"So I'm curious," he whispered back to Shei as the interview commenced, "can you only do sights and sounds? What about sensations? Pleasure, pain?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"Terra really is a wounded planet," Ethan nodded, swallowing a bite of salad, "I mean, it's not as if we didn't already have enough troubles on the inside... and now there's like, entire nations gunning for us." He shook his head. "Can't go a day in Wing City without some Super Saiyan battle or an Aschen glassing or some other crazy problem wrecking things up..."

"As for pleasure, well, I'm capable of making someone feel that too."

The young boy was both surprised and shocked as a plethora of suggestive flirts flooded his mind in response to Shei's comment. With so much of his youth wasted on alcohol and drug-abuse, much of Ethan's "normal" teenage inclinations had been numbed down into a dull shell of their former selves. He hadn't even CONSIDERED flirting with a girl in years. The fact that he even found himself capable of saying anything even remotely romantic to Shei was astounding. He turned slowly towards Lin, a cold panic retching into his psyche as he realized what he was about to do. Although the words might be there in his head, actually SAYING anything to Lin would require a good bit of courage and charm, neither of which Ethan was in possession of.

He opened his mouth. It hung there for six seconds.

"...duhhrhgrh..." the boy forced SOMETHING out of his lips. It was a start. He was also blushing profusely. "Uhhh. Is um. Is... your... mental... powers... thing... y'know... isthatlike... y'know... the... ONLY way you... like... y'know... can make someone feel... pleasure?"

The boy's expression was the love child of hopelessly-embarrassed and frantically-constipated.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Yeah, sure thing..." Ethan nodded once his blush has subsided. He checked a device in his pocket briefly. "...there's some disturbance down in Gambit's anyway. Aschen or some shit. I better check it out."

With that, the Empath was gone.

The setting changes from Wing City to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Nemo
It was at that point that Ethan Railee entered the bar, his jacket zipped up to his neck and his hoodie thrown over his head. Goddamn it was cold outside. He never would have been out this late in the first place had it not been for the assistance-request the Militia had received from Gambit's. With the bar being as notorious as it was, Ethan wasn't quite sure what to expect upon entering. A blood-soaked vampire coven battle? A malevolent succubi orgy/feeding-fest? Some ancient, nefarious monster preying on helpless civilians?

He took one good look at the bar and shook his head. Nope. Aschen.

"Alright. Uhh..." Ethan rubbed behind his head. His jacket bore the insignia of the Terran Militia. "Can we just... like... chill out? Yeah? I don't know what's going on here, but we should like... calm down..." He was speaking to all patrons in the bar, but his voice didn't carry particularly well.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Okay. Let's just... take a breather here..." Now the Divine Shadow was getting on on this. Shit. Something needed to be done. Raising his hands, Ethan focused himself. He'd never tried using his powers on such a wide-range of men like this, but there was a first time for everything, right? Besides, if he DIDN'T do anything, people might die. It was his duty as a Militiaman to stop violence before it happened.

Extending his empathetic influence out to every Aschen soldier in the bar, Ethan would attempt to impress a deep sense of contentment and laziness on them, exaggerating the feeling to superfluous extremes. This emotion went beyond mere satisfaction; it was the epitome of utter complacency and lethargy. If successful, every Imperial trooper would be undeniably relaxed and calm, completely at ease with themselves and their current predicament. Whatever feelings of anger, fear or direction of duty that might have induced them to point guns at Terrans would be all but completely obliterated. They would be happy, serene and lost in a state of limbo-repletion, completely adverse to violence and all other means of force.

In short, the marines would feel like they just smoked several joints of cannabis.

If Ethan's power affected them, they would likely be quite unable (and unwilling) to flee the Equalizer's energy wave, meaning that their weapons would vanish.

"Alright, are we all calmed down?" Ethan asked, "can we talk about this peacefully or are we going to fight like brutes?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"Woah, woah!" Ethan held out his hands towards the Divine Shadow, attempting to appear nonthreatening and disarming, "Less'just... chill, dude. Chill. Seriously, you're really uptight. Get a massage." He gestured towards the bar. "You want a drink? I can get you a drink. Look, I don't know what happened here, but I think we should all take it down a few notches. We can talk about this. I'm sure that, whatever's the matter, we can resolve it peacefully."

And then a fucking werewolf transformed in the bar.

"Aw fuck you!" Ethan turned to Chet, "didn't you hear my rant about PEACE?! Go to sleep, doggy!" With that, Ethan would attempt to exert a feeling of deep, almost unbearable drowsiness on Chet. The werewolf would likely fall asleep almost instantly.

"Now," Ethan turned back to Mollem, slightly exasperated, "as you can see, none of your men have been harmed." He gestured towards the CPF officers, lazing about the bar like sun-bathers. "Neither have you, for that matter. We have no reason to fight about this."

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan Railee was quite shocked as the Divine Shadow killed his own men for something that wasn't even there fault. Although Railee longed to intervene, he had no place in doing so. Those were Aschen men, not Terrans. Ethan legally couldn't do anything to help them.

"That's fucked up," he shook his head. The Divine Shadow certainly wasn't representing himself well on Terra.

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#, as written by Nemo
"In our humble defense," Ethan looked darkly towards the Shadow, "YOU came to OUR planet. You can't expect us to mold our society to your whims just because you... WALK here. We own this planet. It's ours." Typical Terran pride.

He cast a distrusting glare at Darian. "I don't know, and I don't care. I'm just glad this whole charade is over." He looked briefly towards Gambit's door where roughly half a dozen innocent men lay dead. They weren't Terrans, but they were still human beings. Ethan had felt every last pitiful emotion of fear, confusion and horror that had passed through their minds as they were executed for no good reason at all.

"The fight is over. My work here is done."

Ethan turned and stormed away.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Hm?" Ethan turned towards the woman who halted his departure. "Oh. It's nothing. Just a little bar fight, but it's resolved." He nodded. "Have a nice night, ma'am." Probably just another citizen worried about what was happening in Gambit's. That was what the Militia was here for, right? To stand up for the little guy? A small sense of pride overcame the young empath as he realized he'd just made it through his first 'real' test.

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#, as written by Nemo
"The bodies?" Ethan looked back towards the corpses, "yeah. All Imperials. Killed by the Divine Shadow himself." The empath shook his head at the mention of 'bombardment'. "I wouldn't read to much into it. Seriously, this whole planet is just a playground to the Empire. They have too much fun with us to get rid of us." Railee shook his head. "It makes me sick..."

"But I'm sorry. I don't mean to go on." Ethan shook his head. "You have a nice night, ma'am. Stay safe. I really should be getting back to HQ." Oh, that sounded very official. Ethan's chest was swelling with pride.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Wing City Highway

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan Railee entered quietly after the guard assured him he was in the right room. Anyone who'd been with the empath lately would note that he was dressed exactly the same the last they'd seen him: cargos, combat boots, plain shirt and a jacket sporting the Militia's insignia. Perhaps the outfit just suited him. Perhaps he had no other clothes.

Fashionable or no, Ethan came to the meeting with a smile on his face. It was the young man's first real Militia meeting, and he was exciting to see how it would turn out. Although he'd been with the Militia for months now, had received extensive training, had recruited another member and had been on a few real assignments, Railee still felt a bit left out from the rest of the group. Being a part of this get-together made him feel all-the-more a true member of the Terran Militia. He waved to both Patchi and Ezrael.

"Hey! Nice to see you again, Ezrael," he greeted the arch-mage, his face bright, "I'm really excited about today! I've never been to one of this meetings before..." The empath turned to Patchi now. "And hey, Patchi! It's nice to meet you. I know we've never met in person, but I'm a huge admirer." The young man leaned closer, inspecting the Saiyan's gruff features. "...is it true you one-hit KOed Hellion into Wing City Lake?"

The setting changes from Wing City Highway to Wing City

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan had gone through great pains in deciding where he ought to host his interview for the latest Militia hopeful. He spent a great deal of time reflection on locations that other Militiamen had chosen in the past for such an event. A quaint diner. A seedy nightclub. The hoarse sands of an African desert. An empty, spacious warehouse. The top of a skyscraper. Each of them as bizarre, abnormal and as random and peculiar as the last. Being relatively new to the Militia, Ethan wasn't sure why his fellow officers chose such strange places to hold these little interrogations. Perhaps it lended to the group's mystery and character or allowed for certain insights into the applicant's persona that were otherwise obscured. Perhaps the Militia was just full of crazy, theatrical romantics with no real sense of wisdom or professionalism.

Whatever it was, it was a tradition Ethan intended on keeping. Who was he to diverge from the aberrant rituals that mighty heroes before him adhered to? It was for this reason that Jayden Ryder would be asked to meet his interviewer at a particularly large supermarket in Wing City. Video and audio section. The racer would be given no other information about who he was supposed to meet other then that he would be wearing the Militia's insignia on his jacket. Ryder would have to do a bit of searching to find his man.

The young empath himself stood nonchalantly in front of a long row of plasma-screen TVs, watching the later-half of 'Die Hard 2' with fascinated interest. Daily life continued all about him, throngs of Terrans milling this way and that as they made post-Holiday purchases. Everything seemed to be on-sale. Ethan himself had purchased a few books not fifteen minutes earlier. They lay suspended from his arm in a plastic bag.

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#, as written by Nemo
The first thing Jayden might have noticed about Ethan was his youth. How old was this kid... seventeen? Sixteen maybe? Certainly not old enough to drink. He was small, too; maybe not short, but lanky. Skinny. The sort of boy that thugs target on the streets for a mugging. What was a little guy like this doing hosting a Militia interview? What sixth-period class did he have to skip to be here?

Railee was all but oblivious to Ryder as he approached, his eyes glued to the screen. Bruce Willis was just raising his lighter to the snowy winter sky, preparing to sound-off yet another satisfactory "Yipee ki-ya motherfucker!" when Jayden approached. Ethan tore his attention away from the movie reluctantly, blinking rapidly as he reeled his mind back into reality. Interview? What was this guy going on abo-

"Oh yeah!" Railee's face lit up. He offered his hand to Ryder. "Ethan Railee. Thanks for meeting with me today." He nodded towards the open aisle and began walking.

"Jayden Ryder," Ethan repeated the name, as if sampling the sound, "how old did your file say you were... twenty-three? You look a bit younger." The empath smiled. "...nothin' wrong with that, of course. Not like the Militia discriminates." He laughed playfully. "I'm seventeen, they still let me in."

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#, as written by Nemo
"Huh?" Ethan looked back towards Jayden, perhaps a bit confused himself, "what, you mean..." He perked a curious brow. "Do you expect me to frisk you or something? Flash a badge in your face and demand that your recite the alphabet backwards?" Railee laughed youthfully, his hands in his pockets as he walked calmly alongside Jayden. A young boy in a passing isle was squealing excitedly as his mother reluctantly agreed to buy him the latest 'Legend of Zelda' installment.

"Nah, it's just me," Ethan rubbed behind his neck, perhaps a bit embarrassed. For all the confidence and self-mastery he'd acquired in the short time he'd been with the Militia, he knew he still had a lot to learn. He was young. Inexperienced. People would notice that, and he could hardly blame them when they did. "Just you, me, and three dozen plasma-screen TVs playing twenty different action movies at once." He nodded, clearing his throat. His eyes were on the floor now, tracing patterns into the ceramic tile.

"I'm going to ask you a series of questions," Ethan explained calmly, "you're going to answer them, truthfully, to the best of your ability. After that, I'm going to conduct a brief 'examination' of..." The empath squinted as he fought for an appropriate word. "...your emotions, I guess. I don't really understand it myself." He shrugged. "I'm an empath, y'see. That's part of the reason why I'm on 'recruitment duty.' If there are any malevolent or evil passions contributing to your desire to join this group, I'll be able to sense them out."

"Now, are you ready to begin? Do you have any questions before I start?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"Alright then." Ethan spun on his heels, his eyes meeting Jayden's. He quietly opened up an empathetic link to the man before beginning, allowing the Militiaman a very basic grasp on the racer's emotions. If there were any spikes of fear, suspicion, anticipation or excitement in Jayden's psyche that may or may not occur should he lie, Ethan would be able to detect them.

"First few will be basic." Ethan nodded. "Are you a Terran citizen, where do you live and what do you do for a living?" The Militia would have had most of this on-file, as well.

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan nodded. While being a Terran citizen wasn't a REQUIREMENT to join the Militia, it was generally preferred. The TNG's file on Jayden might actually be a bit more barren then first supposed.

"Why do you want to join the Militia?" he asked next, "I mean, what about it appeals to you? Risking your life on daily basis for complete strangers doesn't exactly scream 'career opportunity' to most sensible people." He shrugged. "Not like you get paid, either." It was important to remember that the Militia was a volunteer task force. Although Militiamen were offered homes, food and equipment should they need it, they were completely without a paycheck or any form of compensation for their heroic efforts.

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan Railee nodded. "And what about Terra as whole? Do you have any loyalties or commitments to this planet? A family or something?" Ethan shuffled his feet. "The Militia DOES have access to quite a bit in the TNG, from the archives to the arsenol. We need to be guaranteed of our member's loyalties." Ethan shrugged, smiling a bit. "It's all very cheesy, of course. Defend the innocent. Destroy the wicked. You're expected to live selflessly and virtuously, setting an example for the rest of society." Ethan turned towards one of the TVs. "Here..."

The empath flipped through several news channels before stopping at one in particular. "MILITIA VISIT UGANDA, REBUILD HOMES" the headlines read, the screen featuring videos of Patchi Boy and Vegeshin welding walls together with their bare hands, hot fire spewing out of their fingertips.

"We're humanitarians at the end of the day," Ethan nodded, stepping back from the TV, "white knights. Good guys. All fighting and protection aside, THIS is the sort of thing we wish we could do more often. Helping people. Doing right by the world." He looked back towards Jayden, perking a brow. "Y'sure that sort of thing appeals to you?"

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#, as written by Nemo
Ethan Railee nodded. A fair assessment. In a way, it was more in-line with the Militia's beliefs then most. Why did being born on a certain planet make someone more valuable then if he'd been born somewhere else? People were people. Nationality be damned.

"C'mon. That concludes the 'question' part of this exam. We can do the next lil' bit in the food court." He beckoned for Jayden to follow.

The setting changes from Wing City to Wing City Highway

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Character Portrait: Anodyne, The Ripper Character Portrait: Patchi Boy Character Portrait: Ethan Railee Character Portrait: Derrick Rose
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"Ugh. Sorry about being late, guys. Had to make sure Ripper fixed the APC like she promised after picking it up by the undercarriage," Derrick Rose cracked, brushing some more dust from the fight with Hatchet off of his uniform. "Is this never gonna come out? Damn."

He found a seat and rested his rifle against the chair. "Anyway, I made it. Everyone that doesn't has no fucking excuse. Unless their loved ones have locked them in the bedrooms for marathon sex or something just as desperately affectionate."