Superhero Application - Charade

by **Dvdmacyoshi** March 19th 2012, 8:45 pm

Real Name: Subject 12
Super Hero Name: Charade
Title: Nameless
Alignment: Superhero
Age: Physical age of a mid-20s male, though his creation was less than a year ago.
Gender: Male
Race: Genetically engineered Human
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Height: 6"2'
Weight: 210 lbs

Costume Description/Image: (Minus the Helmet)

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Personality: Mostly serious, but with a wide sarcastic streak. Very devoted to his duty, and is more focused on getting a job done than looking good doing it.

History: Subject 12 was created inside a secret government facility, the location of which is unknown. He was created in an attempt to form the ultimate superhero, being created from strands of DNA taken from heros of all different powers. However, like the 11 Subjects which preceded him, 12's testing was considered a failure, at least compared to what the stated goal was. Unlike the other 11, though, 12 managed to survive his testing period, and was deemed worthy of life after several debates among generals. As a result, 12 was released upon the world, with the majority of his memories wiped, in hope that he could go on to live a normal life among regular humans. However, 12's call for duty and justice seemed to be imbedded into his DNA, as he soon discovered his abilities while preventing a mugging. He has since begun traveling, and helping out whoever he meets along the way.

Powers: He has strength, speed and reflexes that are a large step above the common human. He is also capable of imitating the abilities of any other superpowered individual his skin comes into contact with, though only for the measly period of 10 seconds, and only at 1 EP Strength, part of the reason he was considered a failure.

Power Grid: (You have 22 points to spend on your Power Grid unless you can fly, in which case you have 20. Each stat can start at 6, not 7. 7 must be earned.)
STR: 4
SPD: 4
END: 4
INT: 4
EP: 1
FS: 5

Power Grid colours: Red and Black

Character Image/Description: [You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]

Roleplay Sample:

Voices. All 12 could hear were the voices of the people that surrounded him, that looked over him as though they were the Gods who sat upon Mount Olympus themselves. He couldn't see a thing, though at this point in his life he had not yet formed his eyes, and therefore had no concept of "sight", or felt any remorse or loss through his lack of it. In fact, he couldn't feel anything either, as his nerve center had not yet been activated either. No, all 12 could hear were the voices.

"Doctor Reis? We need to talk about this project."

A soft, feminine voice. Delicate, like it could be crushed at any moment.

"For the last time, I'm not giving up now! Too much funding has gone into this for us to fail!"

A gruffer, more masculine voice. This one was aggressive, yes, but it was also determined. He must be the creator.

"But Doctor, don't you think it's unwise to keep using up our funding on what is clearly a lost cause?"

"This is no lost cause! It just... needs a little more improvements. I promise you, this subject WILL work. It has to work..."

"But Doctor-"

"That's enough from you! Get out of my site, and leave alone with the subject!"

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The amount of time that had passed between then and now is, and likely always will be, unclear to 12... or as he has taken it upon himself to be called, Charade. Charade, the travelling helper to all those in need... the good samaritan who can be found throughout the country... the hero who doesn't even so much as know his own name, if he has one. The mysterious vigilante who is shrouded in mystery, while his alter ego's base of operations is any soup kitchen that would have him. No secret cave, no Moon base... just an almost instinct need to help people.

Charade found himself flipping the one nickel he had earned that day to determine whether this was a gift or a curse. The coin landed on heads, meaning "gift"... as it always did. And, as always, Charade took it as a sign... whether than sign was that his existence was a gift, or he was very crummy at tossing coins, he didn't know. All he knew was that the air was cold, and he could practically feel the frost forming a natural cocoon of ice around him.

"What I would give to have some heat forming powers right now," he said to himself, "even if it is only for about 10 seconds. Better than what I have now, that's for sure."

He continued to walk the pale white minnesotan streets at a leisurely pace, though he certainly wouldn't describe his current condition as "Leisurely." He considered many times to just take the money for himself whenever he would foil a bank robbery, but it seemed as though something was built into him to prevent him in doing so. Either that, or he just had a very strong conscience. Same thing, he supposed as he chuckled quietly to himself, no doubt gathering several stares from passersby.

"No matter," he said to himself once again, "I'm sure that eventually my good deeds will warrant me a government grant... or a Nobel Peace Prize... or, at the very least, to be invited into the home of some exotic millionaire for dinner... then I could marry his daughter."

His spiralling train of thought was quickly brought to a halt as he heard the scream of a woman further down the street. Charade followed the sound, as he came across exactly what he expected it to be. Some thug was attempting to take money from an innocent middle aged woman, in a great breach in the laws of justice... or something poetic like that. He confidently approached the mugger with a stride, and announced his presence with a casual, "I doubt you'd like her purse. The colour really doesn't suit you."

The Mugger, in a blind panic, launched himself at Charade, blade in hand, as he furiously jabbed it forward, aiming for Charades chest. Charade, however, was quick to react, and threw his body weight to the right, manoeuvring away from the knife of the thug, as he grabbed the degenerate's arm with both his hands, and with little effort, snapped it, causing the mugger to drop his weapon and howl in pain. Charade tossed the mugger over his shoulder and onto the ground, dusting his hands off like it was all in a days work, and returning the purse to the woman.

"I believe this is yours. No need to thank me," he said, as he walked away from the scene, practically avoiding any conversation with the woman he had just aided. After all, it was all in a days work, for him at least.