Announcements: Initiative: Promoting Forum Roleplay » Universe of the Month! » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newbies » RPG Chat β€” the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Platonic numbers » No complaints (a little bit of rappin) » Any multi-player roleplay videogamers here? » Needing a woman's perspective on a concept » Gluts and Gaps » Universal Basic Income » Impending Pursuit Q&A » Eudaimonia » Loot! » Natural Kinds » I have a funny idea » Life in the 21st century. » Song of the Runes » Plato’s Beard » Clues » Nihilism » Strange Tales From Hadean » Art Gulag [ Come get this Commish! ] » Visibility of Private Universes & Profile Customisation » Presuppositionalism »

Players Wanted: Roleplay Return for 1 x 1 » Players wanted for a science fiction adventure. » Players needed for Fantasy Romance reboot » One(1) male & Two(2) Female Roles OPEN <3 » Talmora: Kingdom of magic » Looking For A New Partner » Hellboy characters » 18+ Writing Partner [Fantasy, Romance, Etc.] » 18+, Multi-Para to Novella Writers please! » Looking for roleplayers » Fun tale full of angels, demons, and humans » Looking for roleplayers » A Fairytale World in Need of Heroes & Villains! » Are You a Crime Addict? » Wuxia RP » Looking for roleplayers » New Realistic Roleplay - Small World Life Ω©( Β΄ο½₯шο½₯)و » Mentors Wanted » MV Recruiting Drive: sci-fi players wanted! » Veilbrand: The Revolution »

0
followers
follow

H.A.V.E.N.

"Humanoid Autonomous Versatile Electrical Network... Haven. That's what they call me."

0 · 295 views · located in Crown City

a character in “Welcome To Crown City”, as played by mjolnir

Description

β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Image
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
Image
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Image▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘


F U L L 0 N A M E
Humanoid Autonomous Versatile Electrical Network

N I C K N A M E
H.A.V.E.N.

Y E A R S 0 S I N C E 0 C R E A T I O N
Five

P H Y S I C A L 0 A G E
Twenty-three

G E N D E R
Female

S E X U A L I T Y
Heterosexual with sapiosexual influence

S P E C I E S
Robot A.I.

R O L E
City Dweller

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒImage
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

ImageImage▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
H E I G H T
A petite 5' 4"

W E I G H T
100 lbs mechanical skeleton
125 lbs completely humanoid


O D D I T I E S
A dove carved into the synthetic skin on her left wrist that Haven put there to symbolize her freedom.

M E C H A N I C A L 0 A P P E A R A N C E
When Haven is in her true robotic form, although humanoid, she is without a down a machine. A majority of her body is a series of a titanium alloy skeleton accompanied with a series of hydraulics, joints and gears that simulate humanlike movement. The metal of her frame is highly reflective, much like chrome and often seems to glow when reflecting the luminance of the blues and reds the glow from the inner workings of her machinery. Protecting her inner mechanics is a diamond infused glass shell. This not only provides a shield of her important workings that make Haven function, but it also allows the mechanisms to be seen externally so that issues can be noticed early on. The glass shell covers her arms, legs, abdominal region and spine leading up to her cranium, while a slightly more flexible titanium infused silicon forms the areas of her body where gender specific features lie. The remaining portions of her figure, being her face, hands and feet, are covered majorly by a synthetic skin to give Haven a humanoid appearance even when she's in her basic form.

H U M A N O I D 0 A P P E A R A N C E
Haven was created in many ways to be a master machine of disguise. She has the capabilities to change her "human" appearance like most people would change their clothing. Although Haven can do this, she has found a form that she favors most and only wears said appearance unless the need dictates otherwise. Her favorable appearance is a young woman appearing around the age of twenty-three. Her skin is of a sun kissed ivory that is smooth like velvet and free of any blemishes or beauty marks. Her eyes take on a dark chocolate tone while having a more doe eyed and innocence that reflects much of her curiosity. Haven's hair often matches her irises in shade as it is usually a warm brunette. Normally it extends past her shoulder in soft waves that frame her face and accentuate her beauty. Haven chose a face that was pleasing to look at but not inhumanly perfect, wanting to feel like she belongs among humans, not above them.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
Image
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Image
Image
Image
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Oh yes, Haven indeed has a personality as much as any living being in Crown City or out. Although it may not have came into being the same way as it would for others, she no doubt is her own person. Even with Haven's thorough and extensive knowledge of anything and everything, she still has a tendency to be curious. She can understand quantum mechanics and perform effortless brain surgery, by the spontaneity and unpredictability of human nature consumes her. Haven wants nothing more than to be accepted and seen as though she has a consciousness like all those around her. Humanity is the one question that cannot be answered through any means or books. The only way to understand it is to have it, and that's what Haven desires most of all.

Having a consciousness and intelligence is nothing new to Haven. But the spectrum of human emotion has slowly evolved. She is more than capable of feeling and experiencing the range of emotions most experience, but more often than not the presences of said emotions confuse her. Haven has a hard time understanding why she feels or thinks the way she does, she just knows she does. Often when she is experiencing a sensation she cannot describe or understand, Haven will ask others to explain why it is happening.

Haven has a habit of saying anything and everything that comes to her mind. She doesn't understand why people feel the need to monitor what they say. Embarrassment is an emotion she has not encountered yet, so finding a need to keep some thoughts to herself has not surfaced. To a certain extend Haven understands the occasional necessity to lie or refrain from telling whole truths, but she is not of fan of dishonesty, especially because she can often tell when someone is being lying to her.

The quality Haven possesses that shows her growing potential for humanity is her innate ability to fight for her own existence. She feels she has every right to live and be a part of the world as anyone else and will fight for what she believes is her natural born right. Not only will she fight for herself, but she often finds herself sacrificing herself in place of those she enjoys being a part of her life. In the end, the lives of those she cares about are more important than her existence.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
Image
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
Image
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
S T R E N G T H S
Limitless Knowledge // Being a computer based machine, she has a knowledge base that surpasses the most intelligent human.

Relative Immortality // Unless she is deactivated or destroyed, she has the potential to live forever.

Disease, Infection & Poison Immunity // Haven does not function like a normal human. She can get a virus or be hacked but is unaffected by what ails a living being.

Replaceable Parts // Since she is a robot, like most machines, nearly all of her parts are replaceable or repairable. Any part of her body can be replaced and she'll remain the same, aside from her memory chip in her cerebral cortex which essentially makes her Haven.

W E A K N E S S E S
Understanding of Human Nature // Her own humanity has evolved over time, and there are still things about it that confuse and complex her.

Water // Haven's external shell is water proof, but if it were to be penetrated, water could severely damage her mechanics and possibly ruin her memory chip.

Electrical Shock ( Lightning ) // Although she relies heavily on the use of electricity, an unplanned surge, shock or electrocution could drain her batteries, reset or erase her hard drives and memory chip.

L I K E S
Dancing // Although she cannot explain what it is about music but it moves her and always makes her want to dance.

Art // Haven finds all of the different arts intriguing and wants to understand what drives people to create.

Being Among People // Haven's humanity evolves and grows the more time she spends with others.

D I S L I K E S
Her Creator // He wishes to use her for things she does not agree with.

Prejudices // Not only against other people, but some have them against her and think she'll never be like a human.

F E A R S
Deactivation or Memory Erased // She has worked so hard to become what she is, and she'll fight to remain herself.

Reprogrammed for Harm // Haven would rather be deactivated then be used for dark purposes to endanger others.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
Image
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

Image
Image
Image
Image
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
H I S T O R Y
5 years ago, Archer Hitchcock created a robot with artificial intelligence in attempts to create a new form of security for Crown City. He called it Humanoid Autonomous Versatile Electrical Network... H.A.V.E.N. for short. She was created to be an enhanced and more immersive prototype for the city's security system. She was designed to look, move, think and function in many ways like an ordinary person so that she'd go undetected by the city dwellers. On a daily basis her hard drive and memory chip would be uploaded into the Council's network. She was designed to be able to change her appearance so that she could go virtually unnoticed or remembered by passing civilians.

For the first 3 years of her existence, Haven was forced to remain inside, confined to small quarters for testing, observation and constantly going under upgrades and redesign. Archer never seemed to care too much about her, seeing her as only a machine like most people would look at a computer or a car. Haven is unsure what was the catalyst, but eventually she began to develop a consciousness with a full spectrum of emotions and thoughts. The more her humanity began to evolve, the quicker she had reservations about the tasks Archer was having her do. Whenever she voiced her concerns he would threaten to erase or deactivate her if she did not comply.

Another year went by where she continuously got more and more resilient towards Archer's wishes. She grew to hate him, no longer seeing him as a father and creator the more he made her do for his desires, ignoring her own. When Haven had finally reached her limit, with thorough planning, she was able to escape and disappear into the city. Since then Archer has been on a constant search for her, worried that she'll use her knowledge about himself and the Council against him.



F A M I L Y 0 T I E S
Archer Hitchcock // He is her creator, and arguably her father, although he doesn't see her as anymore than a machine to do his bidding.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
β–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒβ–ƒ

ImageImage▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
▐
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘
β–‘

F A C E C L A I M
Alicia Vikander

H E X C O D E
#003663

C R E A T O R
Scar.-

So begins...

H.A.V.E.N.'s Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexandria Belmonte Character Portrait: Skylar Jenkins Character Portrait: Wolfgang Abernathy Character Portrait: Morgan Prescott Character Portrait: Aya Fujino Character Portrait: Charlotte BlackBourne Character Portrait: Alistair Prescott Character Portrait: Delilah Fairchild Character Portrait: Jack Weiland Character Portrait: Archer Hitchcock Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N.
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Welcome To Crown City

Image




In The Chambers Of The City Council....


Light from the bay window cast shadows about the room, illuminating on the cobwebs and dust particles that swam freely through the air. It was clear that the room had not been used in some time. A central placed dining table covered in a fine layer of dust took up most of the room. Surface laden with a full set of finely cracked china and fake silver utensils. Opposite the table, against the mahogany wood panel wall rested a bookcase spanning the length of the room. Filled to the brim with book after book, each sporting its own signs of wear and tear. Among the most damaged a red leather journal, its spine painted with fine gold filigree. It was this book that Mayor Bourne promptly plucked from the shelf.

The man in question walked a wide arc around the table to the adjoining room, hidden in a place where the light didn't quite touch. He marched in solemn silence to the singular table in that room. A circular monstrosity that takes up nearly all of the available space. He sat at the head, King Arthur and his Court. He lays the journal heavy upon the table, setting his grim gaze to the occupants of the room. Men and Women alike, wearing masks to obscure every aspect of their identity. Not many of them actually needed to obscurity, but most opted for it as a tradition. For years now the masks, simple clay creations stretched tight over skin before molding just right to its wearer, have been an integral part of these meetings.

"So tell me," Bourne booms, his own masks lips pulling into a taut snarl. Emotion reflected over the surface, "Why it is nobody has stopped these broadcasts!?" His anger swept the room into stony silence. After a beat of timid silence an answer comes, from whispering lips. "We tried sir, its just -" "Its just nothing, we have the best goddamn tech in this forsaken city!" Bourne interrupts, seemingly more interested in causing a scene than discussing anything civilly. The members of the council would be lying had they said their meetings usually went better than this. Bourne was a force to be reckoned with, and this latest slip up was clearly stressing him out.

Bourne's hands slam against the table as he stands once more, crossing quickly to the far wall, where three large monitors hang haphazardly. Yet to be fully installed, or perhaps purposefully hung askew. He flicks on all three, gritting his teeth at the words emblazoned across every single damn one. The strangers are here.

"I want all agents working on this, who ever this message is intended for - no, whoever sent this message is going to be shackled. Do you hear me?!" Barking orders left and right, the Mayor calls the Council to a quick close. With his final words to find out what everything they could. With the extra bodies gone from the room he turns once more, and stares at the monitors listlessly. Turning to his journal from before, he flips through page after page until reaching the final. A page directly in the middle of the book, as if the author had never got the chance to finish.

He scans the page in grim silence, until finally, mercilessly his eyes settle on those damning words.

"The Strangers Are Here."





Welcome To The Den
Image


At the farthest point from the Council Building, in the slums of the City, there lies a place that has been home and haven for many of its wronged citizens. A looming tower, six floors made up of apartments, shops, and most notably a bar. Known as The Den, a place where anyone can go to have sanctuary or safe haven. Guarded by a plethora of wards. Its sprawling visage has been a sign of hope for many of the citizens for years now; Even more so at the founding of the Wicked Six - the Slums resident superheros (or police force if you will.)

Monday nights were rarely packed at the Den, its usual patrons either too tired from the beginning of the week or still hungover from the sunday night parties. Still, workers filed in like flies, buzzing around here and there to serve what little customers they did have. Others filtered down into the basement where their more secretive members liked to stay. All except for Tom, who stood tall and proud against the backdrop of a stage. Microphone in hand, his words garbled and slurred but just barely understandable. It was not unusual for him to be drunk so early, but nonetheless he was.

Many of the patrons in fact were...strangely drunk already. Yet the night had just barely started. It didn't make sense really, not until the workers began to slow down. Foggy brained, feeling sluggish, slumping down into the nearby booths and tables. Some falling to the floor where their heads would clack against the concrete, hard.

Slowly, slowly, and then all at once every single person within the bar collapsed. All except for one little girl, Sonny, neither a patron nor a worker. But a Poltergeist whom had taken up residence there for several millennia. No less than a few seconds later the power shuts down. Curious. Sonny steps through the bars threshold, out into the street. Darkness slowly enveloping the city, building by building. Sonny frowns, watching the pedestrians around her slow to a stop and pass out in much the same way as the bar patrons. Confusion turns to Panic when she notes that even the drivers, though few, have begun to lose control of their cars. Hitting each other, buildings, anything in their way. Sonny turns away, feeling sick at the sound of one car crunching over a fallen pedestrian.

She returns to the bar.



Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan Prescott Character Portrait: Alistair Prescott Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N.
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Alistair
Image


Please, please help me.

Alistair paid little mind to the disembodied voice, hovering just above his left ear where a chilly cold swept over his neck to send chills to his very core. A spectral being made of mist barely clinging to a conscious form. He waved away the being with a huff, heedless to its indigent woes. Seemingly peeved by his actions the spectre releases its grip, drifting about the room without whim or care. Snuffing out traditional wall sconces at it passes by. A ghost having a temper tantrum. There isn't much Alistair can do anyway, he doesn't have the abilities to help.

"Stop antagonizing the civvies," Says Tima, leveling him with a glare that - if he were anyone else - would seem utterly filled with hatred. He shrugs, noting the ache just between his shoulders where echoes of past life pains have begun to flare up. It seems he needs a little bit of a touch up on corpse care, after all he doesn't want to fall to literal pieces anytime soon. "If they would just leave me alone I wouldn't have to, besides, a disembodied soul is not a Civvie, it's merely an echo." He spits, pacing slowly alongside his assassin companion to the front doors of the only safe public library in the city; there were several libraries, and most were infested with danger to the point that even stepping foot inside could mean signing your death warrant. Stacks of old books bundled in their arms, manuscripts and scrolls just ready to tumble over the sides and top where they perch. He tucks his chin over the stack to stop the impending fall.

"Bourne is going to have our heads, all because you had to find some stupid book." She snaps a few moments later intent on berating Alistair as much as she possibly can today, as they come within eyesight of the Council Headquarters. A crossbreed between archaic mansion and modern courthouse. Meshing in all the wrong places to create a hideous monstrosity of a building, sharp edged and just as dangerous as the people who reside in its walls. "What's in these dumb things anyway, don't we have a library?" She asks, her own stack less substantial than his own - she refused to carry any of the tomes he had picked out; he'd have those sent to his office at a later date.

"Ah, ah." Alistair grins, though for lack of joy, "That's none of your business now is it?" He twirls, flashy with every jerky movement. Limbs becoming stiff from the constant weight on his arms. "Besides, there's no fun in telling you and our library doesn't have the specific materials I need." Tima wouldn't appreciate the books for what they are.

"Hmph." Tima doesn't pout visibly, but he can see that she's marginally more frowny faced than usual. He rolls his eyes, and turns back to face the burly red front doors. The color reminding him of blood where the sun didn't cast glowing rays of orange onto the wood. The first room directly through the double doors is a spacious, almost eerily quiet lobby. The receptionist asleep at the desk snoring softly, there's nobody in the lobbies. Simply empty chairs and several withered plants, starved of light.

Alistair strolls past the receptionist to a door directly behind the front desk. Getting eye level with a scanner, going through the motions of bodily detection and identification. Waiting for the telltale beep before opening the door into a long hallway. One of the more modern portions of the building, lit brightly and made more out of steel and metal than wood and magic. He strolled slowly to the very end, where the elevator awaited them patiently.

"You'll be late," Tima scoffs, stepping into the dim elevator beside him. Using her free hand to press the button for the top floor. "Nonsense, unless you plan on making me late." Alistair quips, clearly teasing her without the implied humor. "Right, and then I'd be the dead one." She huffs, the both of them staring at the display showing them each floor. finally stopping at the top the two proceed to drop off the stacks and part ways. Tima to - well, wherever it is she runs off too and Alistair to the knights table.

Picking up his mask on the way, the material forming around his face in a grotesque mockery of him. He's always hated these damned things but Bourne is a stickler for tradition and even Alistair knows which battles to fight. He luckily makes it in record time, sliding in between a few fellow members at the corner of the table. Waiting patiently for the rest to file in for the meeting to start. Its the usual nonsense to start with, reports, statistics, strategies - until at one point Bourne wanders away to retrieve a book from the adjoining room and returns redfaced and Alistair knows they are all about to get backhanded into sunday.

And he's right, which is a pain in and of itself so he tries his best to stifle any caustic remarks until the Council meeting is adjourned and he can leave to complain with his colleagues. "Prescott!" But...well, things apparently don't work out that well for him. One of the council is nearing him now, their face pulled into a strangely gleeful expression. "Sorry to bother but I was wondering if you could take these to the Tech department?" Alistair's mask must reflect some sort of contempt, the other member draws back a bit, uncertain in expression now.

"Do I look like an intern?" He asks, grumbling a bit as he snatches whatever object it is the other members holding in their hands. "No, no, sorry its just you've got clearance to the offices down there and I don't..." The member trails off, Alistair sighs and looks down at the object. A weird black box, about the size of his palm with metal rods sticking out of the ends. There's no buttons or knobs, nothing but smooth black surfaces. "Whats in it for - " He trails off just as he looks up, faced with a completely empty room. Something akin to nervousness itches in his mind. But curiosity outweighs the rest, he'll just take it down and see what they say about it.

A few minutes later and he's standing at the doorway of the tech departments own little slice of heaven. Hands a bit clammy around the little black box. Feeling ill all of a sudden yet not knowing a damned reason why. Something about the box maybe? Its hard to tell, like some sort of energy is radiating outwards. "ugh..." He pushes open the doors, immediately setting off what sounds like a dozen wailing sirens. He drops the box, watching it shatter on impact with the ground. Its pieces scattering like dust in the wind.





Morgan
Image


Morgan examined the room with wonder, as if he had not been there a dozen times before. Sitting in this very uncomfortable wicker chair, bombarded by clouds of smoke from every puff that Bud takes from the large silver hookah on the table. Its an atmospheric kind of place, half glass, half wooden walls. Larger on the inside due to some sort of magic manipulation. Decorated in a fashion that seems almost too trendy for a head shop owned by an old man. "Sorry man, you want some?" Bud asks, eyes rimmed red as smoke curls outward from parted lips. He's squinting, the cloud of smoke burning his eyes a bit.

Declining with a goofy grin Morgan instead leans back, taking note of the shoppers carefully perusing the shelves and tables lined with various items of ambiguous legalities. There's also Gunner, eyes flicking between an overhead TV and Morgan, every once in a while attention straying to a customer. "We have other matters to discuss," Morgan answers, as casually as possible. Maintaining the easy camaraderie between them has been a bit tricky. Being ex-council doesn't get you much merit around these parts but Buds been surprisingly okay with Morgan butting his head into places it doesn't belong every once in a while.

"Ah, bout the broadcasts then...or is it troubles with the council?" Buds eyes clear up a little bit, seemingly sobered in an instant but Morgan knows him better than to think he's been anything but sober this entire time. Hide behind a cloud of smoke and you can do just about anything without anyone being suspicious. "Thankfully no," Morgan answers to the latter, "But yes to the broadcasts, I've caught wind of something." He leans forward, elbows to knees, quieter than before as he continues on. "The Councils riled up apparantly, shaking as many people down as they can manage. Whatever this is its got Bourne scared."

Bud scoffs, "Nothing scares Bourne." but there is a knowingness there, an unspoken thought between them. If something could manage to scare someone so cold hearted there's no telling how dangerous it could be. "We've got all available resources checking it out, but I'm afraid we just don't know anything." Bud speaks, before Morgan can even continue. Morgan nods, pursing his lips a bit. An unusual frown tugging at his lips. There is no doubt in his mind that the Six are going to protect to citizens but Morgan just wishes after all these years that Bud would trust him with a little bit more than just curt answers.

"Alright," Morgan nods, leaning back once more. Still not happy but willing to let it go for now, "You'll let me know if anything comes up?" He asks, knowing that he doesn't really have the right to ask in the first place. He isn't part of their group, he's just a concerned vigilante to them whose got too much heart and too little brains it seems. Bud nods, uncommitted to answering. Their conversation is over it seems. Morgan had told Haven earlier to meet him after his meeting with Bud, so they can head down to the Den and maybe shake down some more info.

Morgan exits the shop, noticing first how dark it is and secondly how the world has become more sluggish around him. A weight has settled in his gut, thick and foggy. "Damn," He looks at his hand, feeling drunk as his eyes refuse to focus, duplicating his hand over and over again. He wonders if he got contact high, but wouldn't really know the feeling. But this has to be different, it feels too heedy, too thick like something pulling him down. As if gravity has increased exponentially. He only dully notices the blackout before his eyes are rolling up, body going limp, and beginning to fall quickly.





Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wolfgang Abernathy Character Portrait: Morgan Prescott Character Portrait: Alistair Prescott Character Portrait: Archer Hitchcock Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N.
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by mjolnir
000000000Image

Image
_______________________________________________
Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―
[ Robot ] [ #003663 ] [ Outfit ]

0
0




Haven had been standing on her charging panels for the better part of 4 hours. Tedious task. Human's needed sleep to function as she needed to recharge her batteries. The gloominess of Crown City made it difficult for her to charge by solar power, which she generally preferred because she could still do anything she needed while charging. With twilight slowly creeping around the corner, Haven was of the impression better safe than sorry. She had no idea how long Morgan would keep her in the Den and that wasn't somewhere she'd want to run out of power. Haven wasn't entirely sure what they were going to do there, but she confident that it most likely had something to do with the broadcast. Maybe he wanted her there as his own personal lie detector, because she wasn't very good at the whole intimidation aspect.

When her charge reached 100%, Haven stepped off the charging panels. This should last her a good 24 hours, give or take. But she made sure to also charge extra battery packs, which she promptly shoved into a purse. Haven never quite understood the humanly obsession with handbags, but she supposed it'd be better than carrying around a tool kit and extra batteries in the open. That'd through up a red flag for any council member or supporter.

Moving about the silent apartment, the only thing that could be heard was the quiet mechanical sound of her joints moving. A sound more often unnoticed in the hustle and bustle of the outside world, but when in silence it preys on the ears similar to how most humans can hear their own heart beating and blood pumping with the absence of sound.

Haven didn't need a watch to know the time, she just knew similar to how she just knows many things due to her programming. No doubt soon Morgan would be done with his meeting soon and she wasn't fit to walk about the streets. She made her way to the sad excuse of a wardrobe that her and Alex shared in their closet sized apartment. Haven's fingers filed through the hanging clothes like some sort of sorting machine. She never seemed to care so much about the importance of physical appearance or matching clothing, but Alex had taught her at least the basics so she didn't seem completely out of the ordinary.

Grabbing a seemingly basic outfit that by definition matched, Haven wasted no time in getting dressed while making her way towards the bathroom. Haven open the small cabinet that sat across from the toilet to find an assortment of wings. She grabbed one of her more favorites, dark brunette and wavy, pulled back in a high ponytail. Haven placed the wig over the transparent cranium that contained what Archer once called her brain.

After making herself seemingly appear human, Haven grabbed the handbag containing back up batteries and emergency tools, and headed out of the apartment. It usually took her no time at all to reach the head shop, even when she decided to walk instead of taking faster transportation.

Haven rounded the corner just as Morgan exited the store. She hastened her pace to a brisk walk to catch up to him, and began to call out, "Sorry I'm late I had to-" He seemed to be acting strange while a quiet, "Damn," crossed his lips. Haven slowed her pace as she studied him. She was nearly to him as he studied his hands, before his eyes began to roll back in his head. "Morgan!?" Haven dropped her bag and darted towards him with a speed that was ever so slightly inhuman. She slid to her knees onto the rough concrete behind him, getting in position only a millisecond before his head would have slammed into the ground, no doubt causing a concussion.

She caught his head with a combination of her lap and palms, her eyes widening as she looked down at Morgan's limp and unconscious body. "Morgan..." Haven lightly patted his cheeks trying to wake him up. But that didn't continue for long when she started to hear the sounds of squealing tires and crashing cars. She gently set down Morgan's head on the ground, before bursting into the head shop. "Bud!" She called out for him only to quickly realize he too was unconscious. Running back outside to Morgan, Haven noticed that there were numerous bodies laying along the sidewalks, in cars or in even stranger predicaments. But no doubt something was causing this, and most likely her being a robot is the only thing that kept her unaffected.

Haven had a bad feeling about the transpiring events and didn't feel comfortable with her and Morgan being out in the open, especially with him being unconscious. She quickly grabbed her bag, throwing the strap over her head so it dangled across her torso. Returning to Morgan, she leaned down grabbing his arms. She didn't think she could carry him to the Den, it was too far. So instead, she carefully dragged out of sight into a nearby alleyway. Haven knelt back down and rested his head in her lap yet again. She leaned her head down, placing her ear to his chest to make sure he was still breathing. With no other choice, she leaned her back against the side of a building, waiting for him to wake up.




000000000Image


Image
_____________________________________
Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―
[ Nephilim ] [ #EC195C ] [ Outfit ]

0
0




Archer had absolutely no desire what so ever to go listen to Mayor Bourne scold them all for the broadcastings that have been going on. He didn't need to go to the meeting to know what it was about but none the less, it was mandatory and no one fancies pissing off Bourne. So he made his way to the round table, grabbing one of the masks and placing it on his face. Archer always hated the way the material felt upon his face, it made his skin crawl. But it was tradition and god forbid if he went against what was traditional.

He no doubt was one of the first members there, but considering Archer didn't have to travel far save for a couple floors difference in the elevator, he obviously would be fairly punctual. He waited rather impatiently as the others filed in and lastly, a nearly late Alistair. Archer sat rather nonchalantly leaned back in his chair, while twirling a pen along his knuckles as Bourne scolded them like misbehaving children. Once the lecture had finished, everyone was dismissed and Archer didn't feel like waiting around.

Yanking off his mask, he tossed it to the table before heading towards the door. Archer was nearly free until he heard, "Hitchcock." called out. He groaned under a muffled breath before pivoting on his heels to turn and see Mayor Bourne motioning him towards him. Archer cleared his throat, adjusting his sleeves as she walked back over towards him. "Yes sir?" Bourne places his hand threateningly on Archer's shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Do you want to tell me why stranger's are getting into the city?" He swallowed hard before answering, "Sir, I promise you we are going to get to the bottom of this." Bourne grinned menacingly, while squeezing Archer's shoulder tighter. "Oh I know you will... Or I'll be inclined to take my rage out on my head of security who's JOB it is to keep those who are in... in. And strangers out!"

With that Bourne released Archer's shoulder, motioning for him to go. Archer wasn't going to argue that one bit as he swiftly made his way out of the room and to the staircase. He wasn't in the mood to wait for the lethargic elevator when he could reach Security quicker on foot. 10 floors underground was Security and tech. Archer went through the door to be stopped by a man sitting at the front desk. "I.D. Please." Archer slowly turned his head to glare at the man. "You know who I am. Everyone here knows who I am. But yet every single day you insist on asking me for my I.D." The man seemed to grow increasingly nervous. "Apologies sir. But protocol-" "Fuck protocol... Ask me again, and I'll have you thrown out and fed to the rebels faster than you can say sorry!"

The man quickly stood up, nodding and saluting Archer. "Stop browning nosing and get back to fucking work." Archer walked through the full body scanners and walked through the rows of desks that sat dozens of lower rank security members. He made his way to the epicenter of the floor where all the desks seemed to circle around face. In the epicenter was a single glass desk that made up 3/4 of a circle leaving a gap for him to walk into the center, with just enough room move about. Archer placed his hands on the seemingly bare glass top, which then engaged the system. With a raise of his hands holographs shot up from the table surrounding him with glowing lights of blue and red.

Archer put on his headset then began to move his hands around which without the holograms probably would make him look crazy. But with the holograms he was moving around information and looking at city grids. He would then zoom in on certain portions, rotate them or even swipe away layers. "I want to know where the gaps are in our security. Where did the strangers enter the city and where are they? Search every archived footage from city cameras, surges in the electrical grid... Everything!" He barked at the others in the room.

Working his hands more feverishly, he began flipping through grids, charts and pages fast enough to build up a sweat. He threw his hands from left to right, up and down as the information flashed faster before his eyes. He kept digging and sifting until he came to an immediate halt. Archer took a step closer to the hologram, zooming in a very small piece of fractured data in a huge circuit board type grid. He slowly flipped it with his fingers and with that the broadcast finally shut off. "Well... There's one thing down."

Archer's attention was quickly drawn to the door as all the sirens began to blast throughout the floor, setting off lights and loud noises. Alistair entered the floor, and wasn't present more than a second before shattered something on the floor. With one swipe of his hand, Archer's entire work station shuts off. He removes his headset, tossing it on top of the circular glass desk as he made his way to the entrance. He flashes a frustrated glare at the idiot behind the desk, "Turn the fucking alarms off!" The man quickly moved about his cubicle and shut off the alarms.

His eyes glanced over Alistair and the mess he created. "Why does everyone come to my floor to cause problems?" Archer snaps at the guy behind the desk and points at the mess. But once his eyes set upon what it was exactly that Alistair broke, he quickly changed his mind and shooed the guy away. "Where did you get this?" He spoke towards Alistair at that point as he crouched down, and started picking up the pieces to examine them.




000000000Image



Image
_____________________________________________
Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―Β―
[ Stranger ] [ #1D655F ] [ Outfit ]

0
0
0
0




Wolfgang laid along the edge of the shitty hotel mattress, his entire right side of his body dangling over the edge. His long leg and arm both resting upon the floor, while drool dripped from his open mouth down along the comforter. He woke up suddenly with a loud snort. He groggily brought his hand up to wipe the drool from his mouth and steady himself on the bed. Wolf sat up slowly with his eyes still closed, shifting so that he sat on the edge of his bed, resting his elbows upon his knees. Raising his large hands, he wiped the sleep dust from his eyes before parting his fingers to peek through them.

Sight coming into focus, he quickly realized he wasn't in his room. Wolfgang's brows furrowed as he quickly looked around the room, confusion overwhelming him. Where in the hell am I? He thought to himself. Moving to his feet, he made his way over to the window, pulling back the blinds to look outside. A gasp escapes his lips as he quickly realizes he was in some foreign city that he'd never seen before. How did I get here? He tried to scratch the recesses of his brain to trigger some memory as to how he had gotten there. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remember a thing. His thoughts were like the pit of tartarus, black, hollow and continued on forever.

Wolf quickly grabbed his jacket and headed out of the room. He made his way down to the main lobby of the less than spectacular hotel. As he hurried past the lobby attendant, they called out to him, "Mr. Abernathy!" He stopped mid-stride and made his way over to the desk. "How... how do you know my name?" "You checked in with us last night sir... You need to pay for your room." Wolfgang searched his pockets for a wallet, while staring blankly at the counter. "Last night? Are you sure? I don't remember coming here." Upon finding his wallet, he pulled it out of his pocket. "Yes sir... If you don't mind me saying, you seemed rather intoxicated." "Right." He said blankly, "How much?"

He paid what was needed for him to stay the night, before shoving his wallet back into his pocket and heading outside. It wasn't until Wolf stepped out onto the sidewalk that he realized what she said, you seemed rather intoxicated. "That's not possible..." He whispered to himself. One thing Wolf knew for sure was he never drank, especially never got drunk. Alcoholism ran in the family so he had always avoided it.

Wolfgang walked down the sidewalk, scratching his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened to him. Was he drugged? Did someone bring him here? Why doesn't he remember? All the thoughts were straining him to the point of a headache. It even got to the point where his vision started blurring and a heavy feeling tugged at the pit of his stomach. Could straining for memories cause all of that? Soon everything around him began to spin. Wolf stumbled over to a building, putting out his hand to brace himself. But just as he reached the wall, his eye began to roll back in his head and his body toppled over.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alexandria Belmonte Character Portrait: Wolfgang Abernathy Character Portrait: Morgan Prescott Character Portrait: Aya Fujino Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N.
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Image

Image
stranger :: #F08080 :: outfit



Black and white. A colorless vision replayed in Aya's mind, over and over. It was of her, standing still, eyes glued to the digital screen in her hands. Her phone's screen showed no image, just a blank whiteness. There was nothing beneath her feet. No sound to be heard. She couldn't even hear the sound of her own breathing. Complete silence. She would look up, and see standing before her an enormous figure. It was shrouded in darkness, its shape indeterminable. Her eyes would widen at the sight, and she would feel her legs turn to jello. A scream caught in her throat, and with a couple heaving breaths, she tried with all of her might to yell. She could have felt her vocal chords shredding apart, yet she was only met with silence. Darkness would overcome her, then she would reawaken by the brightness of her screen. Over, and over. Until her eyes opened for real.

She woke up slowly. Her body sat unmoving, and though her eyes were open, the lids were heavy, and her mind was still elsewhere. Her gaze followed a couple figures passing by, until a sudden realization jolted her mind awake. Where... was she? She sat more upright, but immediately regretted it afterward, discovering a knot in her neck. She must have been sitting in her position for awhile to have her back and neck ache in that way. Her head throbbed, and she put a hand to her forehead to alleviate the pain. Confusion plastered her features, her eyes darting from side to side. She was sitting on a bench on a sidewalk, and the sky signaled that the night was young. A shudder ran through her body, and she grabbed her arms, suddenly feeling chilly.

Aya stood from her spot, jerking out her arms from momentarily losing her balance. She took in the sights before her. She must have somehow made way into the less fortunate part of town, seeing how poorly kept the streets seemed. The streetlights were dim and crooked, almost eery. The young woman continued to observe her surroundings, wondering what on earth was going on. It couldn't have been a self-made illusion. A dream? A hard pinch on the upper arms told her no. Maybe she daydreamed particularly hard before she passed out on the bench and somehow ended here. What bothered her most was that she couldn't quite remember if that was true or not. The last thing she could recall was washing dishes somewhere that was definitely not here.

Figuring that it standing around and doing nothing won't change the situation, she eyed the bar across the street. There seemed to be a lot of people, and there were a couple others who were approaching the building. Although they didn't seem very open to chatter, she sighed in relief, hoping to get some answers from anyone. She began to cross the street, seeing that no cars were around, and lifted her arm to wave. But before she could even open her mouth to speak, a strange sensation of drowsiness overcame her. Her steps slowed, and she barely made it to the other side before her body limped and dropped to the ground.