Militia

Real Name:  Jack Washington
Hero Name: Militia
Title: Crack Shot
Alignment:  Neutral Good
Age:  23
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian
Hair: Black
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'6
Weight: 160lb
Blood type:



Jack is not a large man, in stature or presence. His features are pleasing, but not memorable, with his black hair worn short and lazy blue eyes. Many people hardly give him a second look, with the only slightly interesting part of his appearance being the thin scar running across his nose from below his right eye to just above his left. When out of costume, he wears slightly baggy, but hard wearing clothes, usually jeans, a t-shirt and an old leather aviator jacket with a Union Jack patch on the sleeve.

While in costume however, he becomes a changed man. He stands tall, with a commanding presence, helped along by the constantly shifting blur of energy that is his power and is often in the form of large weapons he can bring to bare in an instant. He wears an armoured, black and blue jacket made of advanced fabric that is knife, bullet, heat and cold proof and can even deflect laser fire, black combat trousers of the same fabric, heavy combat boots, leather gloves with padding for punching people in the face with and a utility belt full of grenades and special rounds, from cameras to tranquillisers. His costume has a number of holsters that allow his power to take on a variety of forms, from a pistol holster at his hip, to a combat knife sheath on his leg. His mask covers his whole face, with a built in air filter that can be used to breath underwater for a short time and protect from gas attacks and a HUD with a number of vision modes, from night to inferred and a connection to his cameras . It also has a camera built in for AARs.



Jack, at his core, is a pragmatist. His powers mean that he is almost forced to learn from any mistake he makes, which has quickly stomped any and all ideals of 'good and bad' or remaining innocence out of him. Thats not to say that hes a complete hard ass as nothing could be further from the truth. While out of costume, he tries his best to make good memories to help smother the bad. He enjoys being in places with lots of people, but also dislikes actually interacting with said people. Instead, he enjoys people watching as a reminder of what he fights for and to remember that, no matter how much bad he sees, there is always good to balance it out. Due to his past and perfect memory, he dislikes getting close to others, especially other Heroes.

When in costume, he generally prefers to keep things non-lethal, relying instead on crowd control rounds and blunt weapons to keep from killing wherever possible. However, he has long learnt that leaving those who will happily harm others and have no intention of changing alive is a horrible idea and will happily put a bullet in someone who crosses the line without question. He can also be quite brutal on re-offenders, breaking more limbs the more times he catches people he's caught in the past as a reminder and warning.

Despite his willingness to kill if needed however, he utterly hates it. Its not like he can forget the people he's killed after all.



Growing up as the son of a decorated Military general, Jack spent his early life moving from base to base with his Parents. Despite some expectations, he leaned more towards his Mothers role as a doctor than any real interest in following in his Fathers footsteps, despite his talent with a gun. By the time he turned eleven, he was a better  shot than men more than twice his age and could outfight most of them as well. While he enjoyed the training his Father gave him in the ways of combat, he never even considered going further than using it to keep in shape, instead preferring to heal than harm.
Alas, it was not to be.

On his 18th birthday, during a trip to a theme park, Jack and his family were caught up in a terrorist attack and taken hostage along with the rest of the park visitors. Despite best efforts by the police and Heroes, a combination of hostages and the fact that the terrorists were led by a powerful and dangerous Villain meant that they were unable to breach the park and save the hostages. To make matters worse, the person in charge of the response was either incompetent or outright trying to get people killed because he completely botched the negotiations, leading the Terrorists to start executing people to get what they wanted. The final nail in the coffin was that the Villain was a former soldier under General Washington's command who had been dishonourably discharged and arrested for a number of crimes that should have seen him in prison for the rest of his life had he not escaped.

His Mother was the first person killed that day, protecting Jack from a shot meant for him, and his Father was fatally shot attempting to save his wife, leaving Jack kneeling beside the bodies of his parents, covered in his parents blood and with the gun that killed them pointed at his head by a madman crowing over their death. In that situation, most people would break, but in Jack, something instead was awoken. By the time the authorities managed to enter the park, the terrorists were all dead and Jack wasn't far behind. However, the rest of the hostages were safe, shaken but alive.
It took three days for Jack to wake up and he spent another six weeks in the psychiatric ward. With the awakening of his powers came a picture perfect memory, the first entry of which was the death of his Parents and his subsequent rampage. The blood, the pain, the looks on their faces, all permanently seared into his mind.

Eventually, he recovered as much as he could, although he was far from whole. For months, he suffered under the affects of his suddenly perfect memory and his almost uncontrollable power that only served to highlight the worst moment of his life. It wasn't until a completely chance encounter with one of the other people who survived that day that he was able to recover. A young woman who, against all odds, recognised him, despite the ravages of nearly two years suffering from the after affects of that day.  She stopped him in the street and thanked him profusely for saving, not just her life, but the life of her unborn daughter at the time. Seeing the innocent life he had saved, Jack managed to pull himself out of his self hatred and decided to make the deaths of his Parents mean something.

He took the power he viewed as a curse and turned it towards learning everything he could that would help him towards that goal. Weapons were studied so he could create them with his powers, old skills dusted off and burnt into his mind, his body was trained back to the level it once held and beyond and, three years after the death of his family, Militia took to the streets.


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




Militia's main power takes the form of a black and blue energy that can take the form of ordinary looking weapons, albeit in a black and blue camo pattern. When he runs out of ammo or if the gun jams, he can simply reform the weapon again, meaning that its basically impossible to find a gap between his shots longer than a second. As a result, he can use anything from armour piercing rounds to rubber bullets. His guns can also use regular ammo. It has a mind of its own to a degree, often reacting in response to his feelings when not actively in use. His creations are warm to the touch and vibrate slightly.

Theoretically, the only limit to the weapons he can form is his knowledge of how they work. In practice, he is limited by his Human strength, so he cant just summon a mini-gun and expect to use it without making sure he's properly secured. He is also limited to hand held weapons, so no gun emplacements or vehicle mounted weapons. On the other hand, he is capable of forming a Davy Crockett, just in case the nuclear option is ever needed.

Weapon options:

His secondary, and arguably more useful power, is an absolutely flawless memory. He can remember every single detail of everything he has seen, heard, touched, tasted and so on since the moment his powers activated. This power is essential for the effective use of his ability to form weapons due to the need to understand how the weapon works for anything more complex than a crossbow. Without this power, he would be far more limited.  It is also useful for learning new skills because he only needs to be shown it once to remember it.



His ability to form weapons comes with two major drawbacks. The first is that anything he creates will dissipate within minutes at the most. He can shoot someone easily, but things like smoke bombs, tranquillisers and so on will also dissipate, taking their affects with them. This forces him to carry equipment with him if he wants to use such things. The other weakness is the need to understand what he wants to create. Whether that be the chemicals used to produce smoke in smoke bombs, the make up of drugs or even just the mechanics of the guns he uses, he must understand them before he can make them. It means that, while he could easily create any gun he can get hold of the blueprints for, he cannot pull new equipment out of his ass in the middle of battle. Additionally, he has to know how to use the weapons he creates. While his power does help his aim somewhat, its not a perfect aimbot.

Perfect Memory. While undoubtedly useful, this power is also its own weakness. He cannot forget ANYTHING, no matter how traumatic or painful it may be. He perfectly remembers the day his Parents were murdered, his time as a broken drunk and on and on. Every failure, every defeat, every corpse dead as a result of his own actions or failures. As an additional side affect, he can no longer dream, instead experiencing vivid visions of past events in picture perfect HD playback. While he has good memories, the bad are just as likely to appear instead. As a result, he has developed insomnia and sleeping pills and other drugs don't stop the dreams either.



Utility belt. A belt that contains his special ammo and grenades. Generally consists of tranquillisers, smoke bombs and a baton as a just in case his powers are ever unusable for whatever reason.

Mask/helmet. Comes with onboard computer with multiple vision modes, radio and wifi, as well as being able to function as a gas mask and rebreather.

Militia costume. While being extremely effective at keeping him warm and dry and from getting shot or stabbed, it provides him little protection against blunt attacks and its far from perfect. Its light weight means that it cant take to much abuse before tearing.


While in costume, his power appears as a blur of black and blue energy that forms into weapons depending on his mood. Generally appears as either a knife or handgun, but when on guard or angry will transform into a much larger and more threatening form.



There were few things that Militia hated more than stakeouts in the rain and most of those things were stakeouts in the snow, the blistering heat and stakeouts on top of volcano's. No joke, he'd once had to do just that. Some lunatic who'd watched way to many James Bond movies. Of course, tonight was much more comfortable than that since their was no river of lava threatening to melt his skin or poisonous fumes to choke him. Instead, he was on top of an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by abandoned beer bottles and bird droppings in the pouring rain, waiting for a deal between one of the local gangs and a black market weapons dealer that may or may not happen. It was times like this he was glad that his costume was waterproof and came with a hood.

"These guys had better not have rescheduled," he muttered as his eyes flicked to the clock on his visors HUD.

It was getting dangerously close to the time of the meeting with nary a sign of the bad guys. Militia growled, tapping his fingers on the warm and slightly vibrating metal of his power in the form of a sniper rifle. At least he wasn't using a real one or he'd have lost the feeling in his fingers by now, gloves or not.

The sound of tires rolling through water filled potholes refocused Militia's mind and he returned his attention to his scope as a couple of large and obnoxious pickups rolled around the corner and stopped. The doors opened and a number of African american youths emerged, all armed with bats, pipes and knives, with a few guns, mostly handguns or SMGs and one assault in the hands of a big lad who clambered up onto the back of one of the trucks.

"Showtime," muttered Militia.

It didn't take much longer for the other lot to arrive and they could not be more different. This lot arrived in black sedans and were mostly older than the youths, built like brick shithouses and wore suits and sunglasses. At night. In a rainstorm. Militia would be shooting the bastards on principle now. The leader of this group was a thin, middle aged man in an immaculate suit, thinning hair that used to be black, cruel grey eyes and a thin goatee. One of his goons held an umbrella over his boss as he got out of the car and started stroaling towards the table another two goons had just finished setting up. The leader of the other gang, a tall young man who looked 19 at the oldest, with a shaved head and tattoos, walked forwards to meet the older man. Militia tightened his grip on his gun as he activated his directional microphones.

"You got the stuff?" asked the youth.

"Of course," said the older man, sound affronted, "I promised, did I not? I trust you have the money?"

The youth scoffed, but indicated to one of his friends to bring a case forwards. It was placed on the table and opened to reveal a lot of bank notes. The dealer smiled darkly.

"Ah, excellent," he said, "Now, as promised..."

He indicated for one of his goons to come forwards and place a case of his own on the table. Instead of money, this one held an advanced looking rifle with a scope and what looked like a flashlight of some kind attacked under the stock.

"23 laser fitted assault rifles and enough rounds to keep them stocked for, oh, a few months at least," he said with a sick smile.

Well...shit. Thats not good. Things between the gangs were rather tense at the moment due to a number of reasons that only made sense to those who had bought into the messed up philosophy of the gangs. One of the gangs getting a hold of so many advanced weapons would be...very bad. In fact, Militia wouldn't be at all surprised if the weapons were intended to be used to do something that would kick of a war between the gangs. That would be...bad. Militia couldn't allow those weapons to get onto the streets, even if it meant losing the Dealer.

He took a deep breath and shifted his aim to the stack of cases the Dealers goons had just finished unloading from the cars and pulled the trigger. There was a loud retort that echoed around the area and the stack exploded, sending the thugs sprawling. A second round hit the gun on the table and a third and fourth slammed into the middle of the cars on both sides, damaging both sets enough that they (hopefully) wouldn't be able to run. That didnt stop the gangsters and the Dealers men from scattering however, the man himself being hustled away by his body guard. Militia grinned. The hunt was on!