Monochrome

Real Name:Desmond Geralt
Hero Name:Monochrome
Title:Unit 49
Alignment:Neutral Good
Age:19
Gender:Male
Race:Meta-Human
Hair:Light Brown
Eyes:Stormy Gray
Height:5' 5"
Weight:125 lbs.
Blood type:O



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On the outside, he can appear coarse and unfriendly. To an extent, this is true. But past all the snark is a guy who's really caring and gentle. Past interactions with less than stellar people have left him wary and cautious around anyone he is unfamiliar with. It takes a while for him to be convinced you are not just another asshole looking to exploit or hurt him. He will pry a little into people's pasts to get a feel for who they are before eventually warming up to them. But if someone ends up being another liar, after he accepts them in, he will not hold very much remorse or pity to what happens next, and second chances are very unlikely. Getting past his walls, he is a rather nerdy goof. A low key romantic, pop culture geek. He's into video games, Dungeons and Dragons, anime, all of the classic nerdy shut-in intrests, although he is very much a closet fan and won't express these things very openly.

Born into a poor family outside of Chicago, he grew up with his brother in a normal household. Nothing out of the ordinary. He was outgoing and bubbly as a kid, growing up to be more laid back and quiet. He would spend his time indoors, playing video games and generally staying inside unless he needed to head out. Soon after graduating high school, his family was approached by two suited men. They explained that they were part of an institution for research on meta-humans, and that Desmond was showing signs of latent potential. They promised the family considerable compensation for him to be brought to a facility to run tests and make sure the abilities were safely controlled before returning home. He agreed, looking to help elevate his family's way of life. He left with the men and his family did recieve the money promised. At this new building somewhere outside Chcago, he was labelled Unit 49 for data recording. With fifty others, testing consisted of military self defense training to strengthen his body and more specialized testing to coax his powers into development. While here, he was approached by two girls his age. Unit 45 was a cheerful girl who arrived not too long before Desmond, while Unit 02 was a more sultry girl who would later tell him she was the daughter of the acting head of the facility. They would talk, train together, and became close friends. Over time however, the two girls grew infactuated by him and began fighting over his affection. They became more aggressive and violent, seeming to enjoy going too far in training matches. Around this time Desmond noticed not all was as it seemed. People would be taken into a restricted section and not return. He was told these people had finished their testing and had been released. He accepted this until he saw one Unit being hauled off kicking and screaming late one night. Sensing something amiss, he snuck into the restricted section and discovered the horrid experiments going on there. He was caught by security, and attempted to flee. He fought back, but one guard caught a kick from him, and snapped his leg over a railing. Brought before the head of operations, he was told to remain silent about what he saw, and not attempt to leave again or his family would face the punishment. He spent a year and a half in this place until his leg healed, progress towards fully developing his abilities plateauing from lack of effort. His two friends had also grown sadistic and cruel, shadows of the nice people they once were. He was to be sent into the restricted area. Panicking, his power awakened, creating weapons just like from his games he used to play at home, and used it to escape. He made a beeline for his home, but returned to a burning house, with Units 45 and 02 happily waiting for him. He fled from the crazy girls into Chicago. He wanted to run as far away as possible, but couldn't while that facility was still doing it's sick tests, twisting people for whatever plans they had. So he now hides in the city, looking for a way to put an end to that place, all while avoiding the two girls who ceaslessly searched for him.

1. Agility
2. Reaction
3. Endurance
4. Strength



"Forge Lattice": Focusing and visualizing, he summons a weapon from his imagination, giving form to what's in his mind. This is limited to one wepon at a time and the more detailed the piece, the harder it is to maintain. He cannot create guns as they are too complicated, limiting his ranged choices to bows, crossbows, and throwing weapons. The weapons appear from a flat white runed sigil edged with grid lines . Most weapons created are white and featureless to ease the burden of making them, similar to basic ploygon weapons from 3D modeling. No verbal command is required but some degree of movement is needed to form a weapon. Weapons react to gravity like real weapons and don't float around or fly about unnatually, but the weight can be determined upon making it, leading to more impractical weapons being lifted with relative ease. The density and weight cannot be altered once summoned.

Multitasking: The concentration required to make a weapon and maintain it takes focus. While he is tactful and strategic, coming up with complicated plans while in combat is difficult. It's easier to not wield a weapon and think than do both. Losing focus causes weapons to glitch out and disappear.

No Casualties: Failure is an option, but deaths are not. Putting other's lives at risk doesn't sit well with him, and premeditated plans will be forgotten to rescue someone from certain death. Every preventable death weighs heavily on him and can be exploited.

Those Two: Unit 45 and Unit 02 scare the shit out of Desmond. If these two are even remotely close by, he is out of there. He isconstantly on the look out for them and will not hesitate to drop everything to escape them.

A collapsable night stick, used for parrying, pins, and light attacks when not wielding a created weapon.
A visor headset to keep in contact with his ally.

N/A

Refrains from kicking sentient beings, hesitating from the pain of having his leg snapped. On unintelligent beasts this is not a concern, but anything smart enough to try it makes him uneasy. Faint lingering smell of vanilla (probably his shampoo).

The lake air was rather cold this morning. A layer of fog crawled along the surface of the water as I walked. I'm normally not be up this early, and I yawn periodically. Today, I left the hotel I was crashing at to follow up on a lead. The owner of the hotel has just as much reason to see this group dead as much as I do, and the beggers in the city streets were his eyes and ears. He caught wind, rather easily, that a shipment of supplies heading to that place was making it's way out of the city. I decided to make sure they never arrived at their destination.

So I continued along the lake for a ways before heading into the city proper. I could feel my heartrate pick up as I neared the target area. Even this early, the city was alive. Cars slowly made their way through light traffic, and people in buisness attire walked by, looking just as tired as I felt.

I've got to keep this quiet, and away from all these people.

If things got out of hand, people could get hurt. I couldn't let that happen. Finding my resolve, my fists balled subconsciously as I turned off the main street into the alleys. The ground here was still damp from yesterday's rain, and a less than pleasent smell hung in the air. I stopped and peeked around the corner. A smaller packaging company truck was being loaded. The men moving boxes from the building beside it all looked normal, they all had matching uniforms. But there was something off. Besides all of them being well built like a pack of body builders, each of these men kept gazing around, as if watching out for onlookers. I had to duck back around the corner a few times to be safe.

"This is the area. Be careful out there buddy." a voice warned into my ear.

"Will do sir."