Description

Personality

Jack believes strongly in getting the job done. He always tries his best to do what he’s told to do. However, when he’s off the job, he’s loyal to his friends to an extreme. He’s almost two different people. When he’s working, he’s determined, and moved by nothing. When he’s not working, he’ll go out of his way to help an old man cross the street, pick up a dime, and take a long walk through the park... spanning over a half hour. When he’s in battle, he’ll do anything he can to destroy his enemies... sometimes that mean just that.

Equipment

A pocketknife his grandfather gave him when he was three.

History

Jack’s father worked as a construction worker, and his mother was a waitress. When Jack was born, the two were happy together. They took Jack to the zoo almost every day because Jack loved to see the monkeys. And then, when Jack was fifteen he came out to his parents. They couldn’t handle the news, and it nearly fractured their relationship. Jack didn’t know how to act, or what to make of the situation. His parents wouldn’t talk to him, look at him, or even acknowledge that he got straight A’s senior year of his high school career. After Jack graduated, things got really rough. He would sneak the guy he was dating into the house without his parents knowing. His mother found Jack one day with a man and she nearly fainted.

Things got even worse when it was time for Jack to go to his annual check up. He’d been feeling strange, light-headed, and things around him seemed to float whenever he was around. The doctor told Jack he was fine and that he was free to leave, and then Jack sprung the news on him. “Let’s run some tests,” the doctor said, drawing some of Jack’s blood and putting it into a machine. After a few minutes, the Doctor read the results from the machine. “You’re positive... for the mutant gene...” Jack didn’t know how to take it; he couldn’t decide whether he should tell his parents, or if he shouldn’t. They already couldn’t stand his first life-style choice, how could stand his second?

He and his mother left the doctors; the car ride home was awkward, the only noise being the radio. And then Jack did it. “Mom, I’m a mutant.” She gasped, her hands jumped away from the steering wheel to her mouth, and the car jerked. Screaming, the car went through the local bar and hit a pole, knocking both Jack and his mom out. Slowly, the car began to over heat... until it began to explode. Police report says that Jack was suspended in mid air, car parts orbiting him in a sort of gravitational ring, and his mother was lying dead on the ground.

“You couldn’t save her?!” his father screamed at Jack at the funeral, a few dozen familiar eyes on the duo. “You fucking mutant! You couldn’t save her!? YOU survived!” Jack couldn’t say anything; his mouth seemed to be sewn shut, his head hung low. Slowly, it felt as if a knife was being stuck in his heart; his own father admitting hate for his only son. The funeral was long, quiet, and awkward. Everyone skipped over Jack as they paid their dues. Overwhelmed with grief, Jack left the funeral early, and went to an old warehouse he would go to think.

Tears streaming down his face, he climbed up stairs to the roof of the warehouse. He made his way to the edge and looked down at the city... the city that would soon hate him just as much as his father did. He couldn’t take it anymore, he’d caused so much pain: He’d nearly broken up his parents’ marriage, he got his mother killed, and he forced his father to hate him. “You fucking mutant!” rang in his head as he looked down at the city. “YOU survived!” He took a deep breath and stepped off the edge of the warehouse, expecting to plummet into the alleyway below. But there was no rushing air below him, there was no queezy sensation in his stomach that made him want to throw up, and there was no painful SPLAT when he hit the ground. With another deep breath, he looked down and saw himself floating... in the air... almost seven stories up from the ground.

He’d survived. “Fuck.”

When he got home that night, he hadn’t told his father about what he tried to do, and his father hadn’t told Jack about the rest of the funeral. The house was quiet, and it held a painful awkwardness that was never present before. It lingered until the next morning, when his father woke up Jack. “Get up, mutie,” he spat. “I’m gonna find out if you’re worth a damn... or just a piece of shit.” That morning, his father nearly dragged Jack to the construction site at which he worked. At the front gate, his father and Jack got out of the car and took a long look at the site. “You’re gonna work.”

Jack quickly took interest in construction. He enjoyed building—creating—things that would someday help people. He found out later that day that he was helping build a slaughterhouse that would help fuel thousands of McDonald facilities all over the control. ‘Great,’ Jack thought. ‘More murder.’ But that didn’t stop him. For the next month, Jack went to work with his dad, helping build the slaughterhouse.

Until one day, his father pushed Jack over the edge.

Every day it seemed like his father made cracks about Jack’s homosexuality and mutant qualities. “Heh... I thought you were a good for nothin’ homo mutant,” he said one day. Jack’s ears cringed, and his teeth seemed to grit together on their own. He just swallowed his anger and continued to will bars of steel to men on higher levels of the construction site gravitationally. The bars seemed to wobble the angrier Jack got... and today was a bad day. “... You still are a good for nothin’ homo mutie... but that funny little gravity thing you do really comes in handy!”

His father burst out in laughter, along with half of the construction site. Embarrassment, anger, sadness, anxiety... shame, and regret took over his emotions. A bar of steel he was sending up to the man above began to wobble in place before him. It began to vibrate as Jack attempted to swallow the mix of emotions. “Jack... hey, Jacky, what’s wrong? You okay?” the man above him asked with genuine worry. He wasn’t okay, he just didn’t want to say it. So he showed it.

Suddenly the steel bar shot through Jack’s head, sticking out the other side. Blood dripped from its jagged edge, along with brains and other gore. Every eye in the construction site was on Jack... except his father’s. At that moment, according to surrounding construction workers, Jack Greggor died.

Three weeks passed, and Jack Greggor’s death was forgotten. It’d turned into a tale of sheer brutality told only to mutants—a cautionary tale telling to be careful with your powers. Jack Greggor was no more... until he woke up on an operation table in a dimly lit operation room... assumedly in a hospital. He gasped and shot up, naked on the table. He felt his face, it felt different. The steel bar was gone, but there was a scar. “We had to rearrange your whole face,” a voice from behind explained. The voice was smooth and relaxing, almost secretly sinister. A man with long blond hair in a ponytail and a black suit approached Jack from behind with a mirror.

Jack took the mirror and saw how much his face had changed. It had chiselled features, and his eyes were green—not blue, and his hair was black. He looked down at his body; it’d been left the same. “Who are you?” Jack asked examining his new face.

“I’m someone who believes you have great promise... and you’ll be of much use to the world of Mutants,” the suit explained, blue lights jumping from his hands. “Don’t thank me; I’m sure your actions will do that. Now go,” he demanded, with a wave of his hand Jack disappeared in a flash of blue light. “And live...”

He reappeared in an apartment building with the nameplate “Jack Greggor” on the front door. Confused, Jack got dressed and tried using his powers. They were still functioning. After an hour of thinking, he smiled, realizing the second chance he was given. He didn’t know who gave him this second chance, but he didn’t care. He saw where being passive and worrying about everyone and everything got him, and he wasn’t about to die again. His smile turned into a toothy grin, and he was ready to embrace his new life.

He made a career of being a freelance construction working, and being a part time super hero, going by the name of “Mr. Zero” after his gravitational powers. He borrowed the phrase “Hero for Hire” and created fliers, which he put all over town. He wanted to make sure the city didn’t hate him... like his father (who was now dead)... but love him as the hero he knew he could be.

So begins...

Mr. Zero's Story

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The Infinite Void

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#2021-06-26 01:03:13, as written by le-terryer

Quickpaw Hurojo awakes after having been asleep for several years. Around the area was only void. It was empty. Dark. Cold. "Where... where have the spirits placed me?" He started patting his body all over; ensuring that he was corporeal. "Not dead; that's a plus." Though there was no time to lose. If he was corporeal, that likely means that he could return to the world he knew, and hopefully return to his king. He began running, hoping to find an exit to this ethereal obscurity.

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The Infinite Void

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#2021-08-07 00:56:15, as written by lostamongtrees

Sibael Rhodwyn looked around, finally staring one of the strangers in the face, "I don't remember you. Any of you, to be frank."

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