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London Cross

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

0 · 728 views · located in Washington D. C.

a character in “Those Not Like Us”, as played by Layla

Description

this is the code for the character sheet.

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HAZEL LONDON LACROIX

ALIAS > London Cross
NICKNAME > None, unless they have a death wish
CODENAME > Spider Silk
AGE > October 25th, 1996
GENDER > Female
SEXUALITY > Demisexual
HOMETOWN > Bordeaux, France
OCCUPATION > Police Officer and Undercover Government Agent


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APPEARANCE

HEIGHT & WEIGHT > 175cm, 208lbs
HAIR & EYES > Caramel brown hair, cool steel eyes
TATTOOS > Abstract flowers, sternum leaves, barcode, ear tattoo, spider wings, watercoloured spine, moth arm, gun and garter, snakes and roses, shakespearean quote

Eyes like shattered glass peer from beneath a set of asymmetrical brows, the left ever so slightly higher than the right as to give the impression of perpetual judgment. London has the gaze of an executioner bored on the job, exuding an unnerving mix of threat and indifference. Her full lips rarely part to speak save for the occasional glib response or passing insult.

An impressive array of ink decorates her body, made possible only by the Humanly leader's ability to negate London's invulnerability. The art features flowers and leaves, two things few would expect the stony character to value. Snakes and spiders rest alongside lilies and roses, the paradox of danger and innocence seeming apparent to everyone but its wearer.

London favours close-fitting fashion that resists snagging on objects and the vicious hands of her opponents. Pants, leggings and jeans are preferred, though she has been known to adorn the occasional maroon evening dress. She wears a garter belt at all times, to which she attaches a small fraction of her guns and blades. An almost imperceptible bump is evident beneath the barcode inked into the back of her neck, where the government had installed a microchip.



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PERSONALITY

STOIC > True to her name, London is a force of perpetual cold, grey skies and busy people who could not care less.
FEARLESS > Being relatively indestructible has its merits, though it could be said her brazenness is more a personality trait, and her powers the net that protects her from herself.
UTILITARIAN > She is motivated by the greatest good for the greatest number of people, whatever the cost to the minority.

London communicates in an extensive array of grunts—a short grunt to acknowledge a person's sentiment, a grunt with increasing vehemence to convey hunger, and two consecutive grunts to express a statement in the negative. That is, when she communicates at all. London sees little purpose in making herself understood except in extraordinary circumstances. She prefers the company of plants and others animals to that of humans, whose weakness and absurdity necessitates some collective justice to suppress. Their lust, greed and desire to thrive at whatever cost makes them a threat not only to themselves, but to every grain, fragment and atom that on Earth. Superhumans are worse, for they possess all of humanity's flaws and desires, with an exponential capacity to act on them.

Although her cold rationale makes her seem unapproachable and even apathetic, in truth she cares more than one might imagine. London would die for her mission, and if she could have, she would have never befriended the Humanly at all, but the government demanded some level of connection and trust. Despite being a spy, London refrains from lying, though certainly not deceiving. She employs silence and half-truths, allowing people to believe what they want—though It helps that she doesn't particularly care what that is.

London is predisposed to venom. Backhanded compliments, sarcasm, dark humour and blatant insults are her preferred conversational fodder. Although she refrains from excessive violence where alternatives are available, there is a ruthlessness within her that everyone assumes but she resists She has lost control before, so consumed by the rush of battle that she has continued beating opponents already prone on the ground. Having never felt pain, at least not the physical sort, or the relief of punching or kicking something she could feel, it seems at times that she's more machine than human. Violence is the most basic of impulses, and fighting is the only thing that makes her feel human.



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POWER

STRENGTH > Invulnerability — The power to be immune to all forms of physical da
-mage. Her impervious skin can withstand high-caliber bullets, puncture wounds, co
-rrosives, substantial impacts, and extreme temperatures. Her inability to feel physical
pain coupled with her atomicity or the ability to never be physically divided mimics s
-uper strength, though to a significantly lesser extent than it manifests in those with
actual superhuman strength. It is only that she need not fear broken bones and so c
-an attack objects and enemies with the full extent of her strength. Furthermore, her
extremely dense muscle tissue and skin which manifested in the years after her birth
and during puberty as rapid weight gain facilitates the impact of her attacks. She is h
-eavier than she looks, though not so excessively heavy that she struggles to move.
do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minimin
do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minimin
WEAKNESS > London is not immune to internal attacks, such as poisoning, internal rupturing, dehydration, oxygen deprivation, infections and disease. Superhumans possessing absolute strength can inflict damage, though it affects her as an ordinary punch might affect an ordinary humans. The weakest part of her body are her eyes, which are vulnerable in a way no other part of her body is. She may be momentarily blinded by very corrosive substances or high-impact weaponry. Whilst she is impervious to breaking, she may be rendered immobile. Due to the density of her muscle and skin. London requires a calorically dense diet to maintain even a low level of activity.


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HISTORY

Axel Lacroix was forged of the same elements that raised perilous mountains and carved steel from iron. The former lieutenant of the Navy Seal and then US Ambassador to France looked to weigh ten tonnes naked, only a quarter of which could be accounted for by the nails and gravel he likely consumed for breakfast. The woman with the near colourless eyes who captured his heart with was no less imposing. Odette Leclere resembled the bronzed beauties of Parisian runways, though her ruthlessness conveyed her part as a special agent of the DGSE, the French equivalent of Britain's MI6.

Their union produced creatures few could imagine had once been soft-fleshed infants, all of whom were given middle names inspired by cities where either Axel and Odette Cross had performed grand acts of heroism or espionage. Roan Melbourne Lacroix rose to become a celebrated weapons engineer, and Grey Roman Lacroix a decorated officer of the United States Army. They all had in common a resounding patriotism that ensured their unwavering faith in their governments, though it was the land of the free they pledged their allegiance to following their permanent migration.

At the age when other children were doodling with crayons and sleeping to the soothing lull of fairy tales, Hazel London Lacroix was attending classes in Judo and Karate. Though brutish brothers and emotionally distant parents were not particularly conducive to the childhood most would endorse, London—who'd chosen her middle name over its gentler forerunner—would not describe her childhood as unhappy. Far from it, in fact. She'd been forged of the same fires that moulded her kin, and a life of stubborn resolve and war was all she'd ever known. The only life she'd considered.

Yet despite the Lacroix family's unity, there was a fundamental difference that was so jarring it might as well have been an unbreakable wedge hammered through the steel frame of their home ensuring the building remained for ever crooked.

London did not bleed.

Far from that, she did not bruise or break or experience the slightest scratch, though she seemed perfectly effective at inflicting such maladies. It was a fact they discovered not minutes after her birth, when the first immunisation needle to her plump arm had dented upon contact with her skin. The manufacturing company had been blamed at first, but it was not long before they discovered it was London who was the anomaly. It was then that Odette revealed she'd had a great grandmother whom everyone had believed certifiably insane, though in hindsight might have genuinely possessed the superhuman gift of clairvoyance.

Axel Lacroix had not hesitated to deliver his newborn daughter to the relevant authorities, where a government faction specialising in extraterrestrial affairs had quickly taken interest in her superhuman aberration. Though London's near-indestructibility rendered her a rather useless test subject, it made her an invaluable agent. Rather than treating her as a prisoner as they did so many other superhumans in their custody, they allowed her an unprecedented freedom. They were successful, gaining not merely her obedience, but her loyalty.

There was only a fleeting moment in time in which her allegiance faltered. It was when she met a girl in their experimental division whom others called only the Wraith. She had the gift of trapping the mind in a moment of time, a memory so strong in their psyche that it would cease them forever—a prison world of their own making. London had been captivated by her sadness, desperate to unveil what little humanity was left within the mangled soul she'd been made to become. The Wraith had bared herself to her, and the two fell in love.

London conceived a plan to allow the Wraith's escape. Alas, they were discovered, by Odette Lacroix herself, of all people. The Wraith ensnared Odette's mind in her desperation, and dragged her into an inescapable coma worse than Hell itself. Horrified, London shoved the Wraith away, her unbridled strength crushing the frail cage of the girl's ribs and sinking the bones into her heart.

Finally, London understood. Superhumans were wild, savage beasts granted the powers of demigods, herself included. So long as her kind roamed free, none would be safe. With this understanding came a renewed resolve to the cause. The government organisation forgave her with little more than a smack on the hand. Her family were not so generous, severing all ties with the instigator of Odette's demise. Two years later, the government sent her on a mission to infiltrate the Humanly, where she has been for the past four years.



ImageMISC
[this section is more descriptive info. what
are your character's quirks or habits? anything that
you feel is neccessary for you and others to know
about your character is put here.]is dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
ASETHETIC
[this is anything, pictures, videos, quotes,
words, songs, that describes who your character is.
make it funny, sad, aggressive, minimal, anything
you feel is your character to a T.]iis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
uitricies orci. urna vitae nibh mattis dignissim. Fusce
BASIC INFO
Face Claim: insert full name here
#8C001A Code: #000000
Created By: The Writer's Voice
Character By: insert your username here

(Also, thanks are in due to the wonderful
Εpιmetheus, whose coding is a big inspiration
for my own sheet. And Verix, who is also
a big inspo for coding. ily guys.)

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So begins...

London Cross's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Barbara Molly Character Portrait: James Mathews Character Portrait: London Cross Character Portrait: Andrea Summers Character Portrait: Nora Young Character Portrait: Jude Wilson Character Portrait: Milo Reid Character Portrait: Theo Song Character Portrait: Lawrence Sidney Moss Character Portrait: Dr. Petra Ivanović Džeko Character Portrait: Chica Gil-Soto Character Portrait: Pindar Jones Character Portrait: Lucy Song
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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_____________________________

Halloween, 2020 ; Washington D. C.
6:00 P.M. Friday Night, Sixty Degrees

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Washington D. C. is a nightwalker, hustling through each and every day hoping that the sacrifices of today would ensure a better tomorrow. Politicians battle new legislation as if the very world would end if nutritional facts were more honest about their calories. Offices are crowded with people counting down to Friday at five, when happy hour turns to happy weekend. Halloween is no different.

The sky is clear save for a few dustings of fluffy white clouds shaded yellow by the setting sun. In the suburb, parents young and old chaperone kids of all ages. Witches and cowboys, ghosts and princesses, all of them herd together for the hopes of earning their prize of a full bag of candy. Others only older in appearance but not in spirit party the night away in tighter, shorter versions of the same costumes that the young ones pound the streets in. There is a wicked spirit in the air, but also a sense of freedom. This is the night that superhumans roam the streets freely, if only to feel like they're not the monsters here; the one day they don't have to wear costumes.

On the outskirts of the city, just enough for the taller buildings to shield it, is a hotel. On the front, in bright pink neon, is the words "NO VACANCIES"; to further the point, dozens of cars, trucks, vans, even bikes, are crowded the parking lot beside it. It's tall, at least ten stories, but looks almost like a ghost building, despite the liveliness of the people coming in and out at all hours of the day. Tonight, the lights are few because most of their people are out enjoying the one night where they don't have to watch their backs so closely. Still, tonight is special: the lights would flicker up again and the ghost would revive, if only for a few hours. Every Halloween, they always have a party.

Not so much a party, but a celebration of life. For another year, they escaped the discrimination that might one day kill them all. Every year they each line up to give a drop of their blood for access into the Underground, where the true Humanly headquarters lies. The first floor is strictly for living; couches and beanbags of all shapes and sizes are scattered in organized living rooms, a maze of curtains create bedrooms for those who couldn't find any room upstairs, and the other half of the room is a dining hall big enough for a hundred to eat. Below that floor is the Humanly of strategy and mission planning, where a young woman will sit slaving away until someone tugs her up to the party she's supposed to be hosting. This night is only meant for fun.

And fun it would be. String lights covering every inch of the ceiling, background music queued up, and a time to be human.