Hunter Kieff

Real Name: Hunter Kieff
Super Hero/Villain/Renegade/etc Name: Black Powder
Title: None
Alignment: Neutral
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Russian)
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: The left is green and the right is blue. (Heterochromia)
Height: 6’4
Weight: 195

Costume Description/Image: The very thought of parading around in a costume doing good of evil never interested him; in fact he finds it all repulsive. So instead he wears a pair of blue torn jeans and a golden brown hoodie. He keeps his hands covered with fingerless black gloves and finally for his feet a pair of steel toed combat boots. Unfortunately these have a tendency to get ruined in a fight.

Spoiler:

Personality: Hunter is a rather calm and easygoing individual despite what he went through as a young man. He always tries to keep a positive outlook on life no matter how bad the situation may seem. When someone attempts to pick his brain or try to relate to his past he tends to get annoyed and flicks his thumb against his index finger as if he were trying to light a lighter and the sound resembles one of the 4th of July poppers. The faster he does it, the more uncomfortable he is. When in a fight he shuts everything else out and focuses on his opponent(s), careful not to let his guard down. But if he is cornered and left with nowhere to run the fight or flight mode kicks in and he uses what energy he has left to either fend off for make his own path

History:
Hunter was fourteen at the time. It was a normal day in his life, parents not talking to each other except for the times they were in the same room. And by the same room, the bedroom. His home was a dilapidated hole in the worst part of their town. The stench of sulfur and dried blood permeated the house. Most of it was either his or his younger brother Damien's . Their father was a decent, hard working man. But sometimes the stress of a long work day and a horrid sex life lead him to pick up the bottle, and once the bottle was picked up all hell broke loose. Even at midnight, Damien would be picking shards of broken glass from his older brothers bleeding back. They never called the police, though. Always felt that it was the way things were supposed to be... It was the only thing they knew. Soon as the old bastard stumbled in the house playtime was over. Everyone would retreat to their rooms for the night, Hunter would always make sure his frail little brother would sleep in the same bed as him, holding him tight to quell the impending sobs of fear. So much as an awkward glance would piss the drunkard off. The mornings after were always the worst, but that is for another time.

Fast forward two years. At sixteen years old Hunter wanted to have a life of his own, he did not want to be bothered by the problems of his little brother, or the problems of anyone. He would leave early in the morning and not be at home until late at night, and the first few times were just fine. But the third night is where the atmosphere changed, where is little brother had significantly more bruises than an average afternoon of wrestling with his older brother. The questioning turned into more of an interrogation until Hunter realized that without his being there, his brother became the focus of malicious intent. He usually checked in, but only to see if Damien was alright like a good big brother should and the one time he didn't the one time he decided to have more fun would be the last time anyone saw his face but his dying brother and bastard father.

Move ahead one day. Same routine, same old story, Hunter would ruffle the hair of his Brother and disappear. Damien would worry, as usual and would panic once Hunter did not come back for the check-in, he would shake his father awake, and that would be the last mistake he ever made. His father would rise up, the alcohol still commanding his large workers body, grab the half empty beer bottle and slam it upon Damien's head. Unlike other times he would cry out, and this enraged the father. He would slap Damien around and throw things at him, but instead of finding a book like usual. His clumsy hands found a knife. Hunter unlocked the door shortly after the knife was thrown and connected with his little brothers back. Damien hit the ground without uttering a single word. The father laughed and told him to quit faking, but the realization of what just happened was instantly sobering. With a roar he charged at his father, a rage that he had never felt before burning inside of him and buried his fist in his stomach the man could barely utter a word before the explosion came. It was a furious blast and the victim blasted through the window, a plume of smoke following as he tumbled the 5 stories and splattered on the pavement. The first time he ever used his power.

Three minutes... Hunter rushed to the limp dishrag of a little brother and cradled his head in his arms, the same way a mother would hold her baby for the first time and whispers small things to him. Things like 'Don't fall asleep, bro... I'm right here.' or 'Everything is going to be okay.' but these were unintentional lies. Damien smiled at his older brother and weakly reached up, ruffling up Hunters hair and whispering 'I know it will.' before giving up the ghost. He died with his eyes open, the steel gray iris losing its sparkle and his jaw hanging slack. Hunter closed his eyes for him and huged him tight, crying and cursing aloud. The neighbors did nothing as usual but the blaring sirens were suddenly closer as Hunter hugged and kissed the face of his then deceased brother.




Powers:

Exothermic Combustion: When fighting, Hunter is able to create small scale explosions throughout his body that generate high amounts of heat. However unlike explosions such as hand grenades or bombs they do not send the victim into splattered bits and pieces. How his power works is that through kinetic energy the part of his body that is striking the opponent and friction once it hits, explosive force is generated. So if he is unable to move or create friction, he is effectively useless. However, the energy can be transferred from one limb to another for example, when punching one usually starts with a small boost from the back leg, the hips turn, the shoulder rises and finally the arm extends with the fist as its ending. The energy generated through those movements combined with the friction of the attack connecting creates the explosive energy. Depending on the power it can do anything from sending the person back several feet to bone shattering and internal bleeding.

Energy Redirection: When attacked with blunt forces such as a punch to the face or a knee to the gut, Hunter and absorb that energy and re-direct it to a different point in his body. This does not stop the pain however, he still feels the attack and reacts accordingly (e.g. doubling over or flinching).

Controlled combustion: When falling from large heights the momentum from falling allows him to generate enough energy to form a large and powerful explosion around him with the range and destructive power based on how far he fell. By releasing the energy stored during the fall he creates an explosion powerful enough to keep him from becoming a rather grotesque stain for the street sweeper to pick up. For leaping high into the air the energy is stored in his thighs and he creates another explosion powerful enough to blast himself and one other person up into the air. From there he can transfer that motion to a horizontal position and blast into different directions. However things like air resistance and gravity still apply so in order to stay in the air for more than a few seconds he constantly needs to combust and use up the energy stored. This is not easy and it drains his energy rather quickly so he only uses this to travel short to medium distances and as a means to escape.

Combustion compression: When Hunter snaps his fingers, the friction creates a small explosion when he then compresses into a glowing red golf ball with the explosive force of a blasting cap. The first snap is priming the bomb so once thrown it will explode on its own after 5 posts however he can speed the process up by snapping the same fingers once again. Only one hand can be used at a time for these so his one time maximum is only 2 bombs. However if he swings both arms out and slaps his hands together the compressed explosion is roughly the size of a softball and has the explosive force of a pineapple grenade. Due to the amount of exothermic energy the softball generates it is much too hot for him to hold without burning himself so they are used as mines.



Power Grid
[You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]


Character Image/Description: If description please be very detailed on it.

Roleplay Sample:

The time was two a.m., when everything seemed to slow down and the night owls finally retreated to their dwellings, the time where the scum came out to prey of those unfortunate enough to stumble down the street in a drunken stupor. The only sound around him was that of the battering rain on the rooftops and pavement along with the monotonous clack of his boots against the ground. He hand his hood up to protect the fresh cigarette clamped in between his lips but while he patted himself down to find a light he was out of luck. Nervously the man shifted his oddly colored eyes around the area in order to ensure that no-one was around and placed the tip of his index finger against the end of the cancer stick and slid it down quickly which generated a quick snap, lighting it. With a slim grin of satisfaction he took a drag and savored the sweet taste before letting the smoke curl from between his lips and into the dark sky. Without missing a beat he continued his lazy stride through the quiet but far from peaceful city when he bumped into the tail end of a group of people. They were a mixed sort, two blacks an asian and a Hispanic person. They wore the same colors, so he assumed that they were from the same gang. An apologetic smile jumped to his face and he took a step back; his hands up with the palms facing them. He didn’t speak much English but he managed to stammer, “So-sorry. It was an accident.” His accent twisted the vowels and butchered his apology, but the man smiled at him and put his hands to the side as if he was about to let Hunter pass. The naïve young man accepted the gesture and nodded his thanks once he passed by the first man only to be cut off and encircled. It was a trap.

Before he could react there was a quick but heavy thud as something (presumably) his forearm slammed into the back of his head which caused his vision to blur and his head to fly foreword just to be kneed in the face. Hunter grunted and fell onto his side, the puddle beneath him soaking the fabric. The four men laughed but allowed him to stand and take on a basic street fighting stance. The Hispanic man jumped foreword and attempted to punch him in the stomach but he spun around the fist and grabbed him by the wrist, wrenching it behind his back. The energy generated from the motions were slowly storing up in his body and with a swift motion followed by a sick crack he snapped the arm which made the man cry out and fall to the floor shouting at the other men to do something. The first black man came from behind once again and caught him in a full nelson but Hunter reacted quickly by stomping on his foot. The result was a sharp bang which cracked every bone from his foot to his knee, causing him to fall down and scream just like the last man.

At that time the men knew what they were up against so in an attempt to flee the second black man shoved the white away and sprinted away, it angered the Russian that he would so willingly leave a friend behind so he slammed a fist into the mans stomach which caused a second bang, breaking his bottom three ribs.

The fleeing man looked over his shoulder just to see the man that just took out three of his friends pursuing him so in a last ditch effort he pulled a gun from the back of his pants and fired blindly until he was out of ammo. There was a third rather large explosion and the man stopped dead in his tracks to see what had happened. There was a large crater and his pursuer was gone, he must have been hit and went up himself. The man began laughing and shouted out, “You ain’t so big now are ya? You just went up in flames, Bomb-Boy!” He then turned to walk off but was greeted by the same man from before, three holes in his jacket from the bullets; the explosion was just so he could launch himself into the air and land on the other side. He opened his mouth to scream but the young one simply snapped his fingers and pushed a glowing red golf ball into his mouth and kicked him away. The man attempted to move but Hunter raised that same bloody into the air and with his broken English said, “Goodnight”.

That was the last thing the man heard before the explosive in his mouth went off, killing him instantly.

The explosive man turned his back to the mess walking off with his right hand forming the sign of the cross, praying for the lost soul; the only remnant his burnt out cigarette butt.

Approved

Powergrid up and moved