Spring-Heeled Jack

Real Name: Marquis Jaxon
Villain/Renegade Name:Spring-Heeled Jack
Title:Jumpin Jack, Metal-Head, or just Jack
Alignment: Villainous/Renegade.
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hair: Black
Eyes: Dark Brown
Height: 6' 2" (6' 4" in boots)
Weight: 185

Costume Description/Image: If description please be very detailed.

Personality: Self interested, self centered and self aware. Jack is in the Villainy game because it's a good way to make money, and he doesn't really care about the consequences. He's not maniacal or overtly malicious, he can be vindictive if slighted but usually avoids revenge and emotional gratification, sticking mostly to actions that'll make him money. Jack tries his best to be pragmatic, the only thing that really get's in his way is his love of a good laugh, but he can usually reign that in to do what he needs to. He's not callous and cold, but is disinterested other people's issues which is why he's not really into the hero gig. If there's someone right in front of him that's endangered and not an enemy, he'll do what he can to help out if he's got the time, but he's not going out of his way. As far as interactions with others, despite his villainous persuasions, he's actually a pretty friendly and amiable guy, having no problem quipping with enemies, joking, or laughing openly at their jokes, and is usually at least friendly. In a good mood he may even be down right polite (well, as polite as a card carrying villain can be). Though, his humor does tend towards being smart assed and immature (and even a little eccentric), but it's usually good natured. This is all behind the mask, however. In civilian life he's more toned down, and not as likely to have smart comeback prepared or ignore someone in need, but when the mask is on, the gloves are off. At the end of the day, he's got nothing against the good guys and their silly ethics, he just wants his money.

History: Marquis grew up in the Mid-West city of Chicago, the son of a school teacher mother and a mechanical engineer father. It's from his father that he developed a passion for tinkering and science that carried him throughout his scholastic career, earning him accolades and science fair prizes. His whole life his father impressed on him the idea that if it can be done easier, and simpler then it should. Just before graduating High School Marquis' mother was diagnosed with a rare cancer and his father began to go into debt to pay for the treatment (he was already teetering with the over expensive home he'd bought during the housing bubble). Bad followed bad and while working over time Marquis' dad died, crushed by a faulty machine he was repairing at the car plant where he worked. Marq dropped out of his freshman year of college to nurse his mother.

Never deterred, and determined to find a way or make one, Marq used his brain got several pattens in between nursing his mother and working to pay the bills. The first was for a highly powerful miniaturized pneumatic press, and later one for a potent and long ranged cutting torch, and still later the prototype of a cybernetic exoskeletal gauntlets. He brought the ideas before several companies, who ultimately didn't want to buy any of the patents saying that while practical in application, the production costs of each of the devices was too high to justify manufacturing them. In the end, with his ill mother unable to work and the house being foreclosed upon, he turned to crime to get the money he needed. He redesigned the gauntlets, adding two retractable hooked blades to each (for scaling walls), added the pneumatic press to a pair of boots, and the long range cutting torch to a metal mask.

Using these tools he robbed his first bank, hopping up/climbing the walls with his boots and gauntlets, and cutting down into them and then into their vaults with his blow torch mask. He got away with it for a while, and was able to make a dent in the bills, but eventually got caught and institutionalized. While in prison his mother succumbed to disease. He got out early for good behavior, and after being unable to find work (no one wants to hire an ex-con) he turned quickly back to his old M.O., and has been robbing banks and dodging bullets ever since.

Powers:
Hyper-leap: His most notable and oft used ability comes from the thigh high pneumatic powered boots that he wears. They allow him to leap to astounding heights (and of course fall from those heights) and preform acrobatic feats. He also can deliver bone pulverizing kicks to enemies. They are controlled, like all of his equipment, by the cybernetic system in his helmet.

Bladed Gauntlets: These go up to his elbows, and the servos augment his physical strength and lifting capacity a fair bit. The most notable feature is concealed in the forearm of each gauntlet are two blades (that is, two per hand) that jut straight out upon his command. Each of these blades is sharpened and durable stainless-steel (blackened and un-lustrous) and just before the end, bends downward in a 45 degree angle like a harpoon, so that it may be hooked onto or into ledges or hard materials for climbing.

Fire breath: The long range and compact cutting blow torch Marq created has been placed into the Spring-Heeled Jack's mask mouthpiece. The can be focused to a blast of differing widths, ranges and effects. At it's narrowest the blast is a blue-white blast of cutting flame, capable of cutting into most metals, and incinerating most other materials at a distance with little time. Jack can widen it into a less focused flame thrower type function which is just good at setting a few targets close together and relatively near to him on fire. Wider still and it's range is shortened but it's good for catching several things right in front of him on fire, like a line of close enemies. He can also set it to flash, creating a blinding blast of light (but no heat) that can blind or stun those caught unawares. The flame is always blue or bluish-white.

Night Vision: Exactly what it says. Marq put some infrared goggles into the helmet so he can see in near perfect darkness, comes in handy when sneaking around in the dark.

Power Grid:
STR:4 (boots/gloves)
SPD:4 (boots)
END:4 (boots/gloves)
INT:6
EP:0
FS:4

Power Grid colors: Green/Purple

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

The mask is metallic black, the eyes glow red. There are hardly noticeable nozzles in between the "teeth" that eject the fuel for the flamethrower/torch [You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]


Like this except the mask mentioned above, the cape is a hood at the top and not just collared. The black is dark purple, the red dark green. In place of the boots shown are black metal ones that cover from toe to the lower thigh, just above the knee, which is encased with a strength enhancing servo (think discs on the out side and inside of the hinge joint). The top of the boots are harnessed across the pelvis to the belt. From the front they look very slick, from the back you can sort of see some of the mechanics, like the lines of mini-pneumatic pumps that occasionally eject compressed air when used, in a steam punk like fashion. [You must be registered and logged in to see this image.]

Roleplay Sample: "Well....This is awkward for one of us." Jack said looking over his shoulder. He slowly turned around to face the young night watchman, pointing a gun and a flash light at him from down the empty cold corridor of the bank. After hours it was cool and cold and dark, and usually quiet, but not anymore. The rookie shouted his command once again.

"I said, put your hands in the AIR!" Springheel was impressed with the guys resolve, almost enough to do what he said. But, not really. Cause bank robbing was really his thing and experience and intuition told him that dropping the money was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Oh, yeah. Okay. Lemme just...drop these sacks of cash I stole here and..." He paused. "C'mon! I drew giant dollar signs on the sides with green marker and everything!" Jack jerked the bag in his left hand up and out towards the guard making him flinch. "No? I get no laughs? Not a chuckle? A chortle? Can I get a smirk?" The sides of the young man's mouth turned up in a capitulating smirk. "Ah! That's what I like to see. What's your name dude?"

"Brian. Now put your god damned hands in the god damned air!" The guard returned to his humorless attitude.

"Whoa! Chill out there Brian, don't get all Samuel L. on me buddy. Look, how bout, I skip kicking your ass, and you can just tell everybody I kicked your ass. Look-" He reached into one of the bags while Brian resteadied his aim "calm down." Springheel tossed over a banded was of bills "There ya go. Now you can go, get yourself a nice girl, take her out to...I don't know, Krispy Kreme or wherever the hell-And the best part is, NO ONE has to KNOW! Right?" Brian seemed to consider the offer.

"No. You move one more time and I get say my on my first weapons discharge report that I shot a supervillain. Now drop that bag. And you put your goddamned hands in the air!! You tripped the alarm, back up is on it's way to take you in." Jack released a deep sigh, shook his head a bit and released a quiet monosyllabic laugh with a short shoulder shrug. Lights and sirens became noticeable in the background almost as if on cue.

"Brian. I tried to cooperate. I really did man." A bright flash emitted from the mouth piece of Jack's skully mask and the guard winced in ocular pain. He fired shots, but Springheel was already closing the distance, zig zagging down the hallway, bounding from wall to wall. He pounced onto the disoriented Brian's chest and off in about as much time. The officer heaved out a breath of air and grunted in pain. Springheel bounded for the glass certain the guy wouldn't be much of a hassle anymore. The glass shattered around him. Springheel's feet hit the pavement, just as squad cars made the scene. This would be his narrowest escape yet. Officers stepped out of their cars and took shots at the young heistmaster as he bounded out of their lines of fire.

At a brick wall of a several story building. For many it would be a dead end, but for Springheel it was a near perfect get away. The momentum from each leap carried him upward enough to give him a chance to make the next one, and he took the building in a few not-so-short jumps. "If only I had a mustache to twirl, everything would be beautiful." He muttered to himself, bounding from rooftop to rooftop as the ineffectual police below took potshots at his evasive form.

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