WormRP - User contributions [en]

Denver:Wreck

2023-07-15T21:15:37Z

Shadeshadow227:

{{PHO info}}

{{public cape
|rep_notoriety = D
|rep_criminal =

|name = Wreck
|author = Shade
|alignment = Vigilante
|affiliation = None
|status = Active
|location = Denver
|pronouns = She/Her
|image =
|caption =
}}

Wreck is a vigilante with a noticeable anti-establishment and anti-authoritarian focus, frequently showing up to participate in protests against everything from police brutality to poor working conditions or anti-homeless measures, mostly keeping the peace and ensuring that things don't escalate to violence on either side, though she has escalated to the active removal of anti-homeless architecture or physical confrontations with strikebreakers at times, showcasing skill in hand-to-hand combat and a fighting style focused around nonlethal disabling measures. Possesses unknown electrical powers and a form of flight that involves generating wind, with other abilities as-of-yet unconfirmed.

{{clear}}
==PRT Information==
{{PRT info}}

PUT SHIT THE PRT KNOWS HERE

Denver:Wreck

2023-07-15T20:29:45Z

Shadeshadow227:

Simulacrum

2023-06-05T22:01:57Z

Shadeshadow227: Created page with " {{cape |name = Simulacrum |alias = Sinew / Sarah Roslin |civ_name = Dahlia Roslin |pronouns = she/her |author = /u/Shadeshadow227<!-- /u/YOUR_REDDIT_NAME (case sensitive) --..."

{{cape
|name = Simulacrum
|alias = Sinew / Sarah Roslin
|civ_name = Dahlia Roslin
|pronouns = she/her
|author = /u/Shadeshadow227
|alignment = Villain
|affiliation = None
|status = Active
|location = Devilfish


|class = Changer/Brute, Tinker (Trump)
|rep_notoriety = F
|rep_criminal = -


|redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/13p7htr/simulacrum_dahlia_roslin/
|image = 
|caption = 
|birth_date = 2003-11-16
|birth_place = Fargo, North Dakota



|}}

Rumors of a monster have been circulating in certain corners of the city, a horrifying sight scavenging through dumpsters and scaring people, a dozen different retellings sharing a single commonality: a glittering metal skeleton wrapped in flesh, almost human.



== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


When in her civilian identity, Dahlia wears her most humanlike frame, adopting an appearance similar to how she was before triggering (a fairly tall young woman with blue eyes, black hair, and a pale complexion), albeit with certain subtle inconsistencies, like her breathing being on a consistent rhythm regardless of exertion, her teeth occasionally being revealed to be painted metal, or other small differences from the norm.

Simulacrum's appearance in costume can vary wildly owing to her powerset, but at this point she's a malformed human figure swaddled in ill-fitting stained clothing, mouth full of needle-fine keratin teeth, three-inch claws sticking out from hands fused into fists. A form mostly used for intimidation, scaring off potential assailants as she scavenges for materials.

=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level:'' 1

She barely has anything besides the clothes on her back, and even those were something she had to steal.

=== Tinkertech ===
==== Frame: Adam ====

'''Appearance''': A mostly-anatomically-correct human skeleton assembled out of metal parts and wiring, complete with metal teeth set in a hinged jaw and other small details.

'''Abilities''': The most basic frame Simulacrum can create, allowing her to move around as a human. Most of the joints are ball-joints instead of what they would be on a person, allowing her more freedom of rotation. A bit more durable than a normal skeleton, tending to bend where most normal bones would break, but the joints can be disconnected fairly easily if struck. No special parts to build exotic mutations on, but easily replaceable if damaged.

'''Duration''': Permanent unless destroyed, easily rebuildable, effectively requiring as little maintenance as possible due to being so basic.

'''Notes''': Simulacrum can always be assumed to have one of these built, due to how basic it is and how necessary a frame is for her to act, unless deliberately deprived of a frame or the materials to build one.

==== RibCage Grenade ====

'''Appearance''': A compacted cylinder of polished metal parts and wires, small enough to be held in one hand and thrown. A section at the top can be pushed further inwards, serving as a button to activate the device.

'''Abilities''' : On use, expands after a few seconds into a copy of Simulacrum’s Adam frame, without any augmentations, that she can transfer to on contact, best used as an emergency escape tool or second wind in a fight. When thrown the result is more haphazard, metal bars and wiring unfolding out in a tangling mess that can ensnare opponents for a short duration, fairly easy (if annoying) to pull apart and untangle.

'''Duration''': Until used

==== Nailtooth Augment ====

'''Appearance''': A small, polished device made of curved metal pieces, welded and wired together. Has visible input and output ports, the overall construction making it look somewhat like a human heart.

'''Abilities''': When attached to a frame, allows Simulacrum to feed her mass into it and produce small amounts of shaped keratin, in the form of small plates, spikes, and other shapes. Enables her to add solid structures like claws, scales, or teeth (albeit without enamel, substituting it with keratin) to a form, or brace damaged parts of a frame with lengths of the material, though the keratin it produces is noticeably brittle, similar to ceramic or glass, cracking or shattering when damaged.

'''Duration''':Permanent unless destroyed/stolen

'''Notes''': Built using tech scavenged from her creator’s lab, post-trigger.

=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Highly-skilled at assuming roles and acting based on limited information about an individual
* Her creator was partially through getting an engineering degree before dying, programmed that knowledge into her when she was first created and had her keep up studying in order to maintain her persona.

=== Mentality ===
Still recovering from her time under her creator's thumb, her trigger event, and the aftermath, Dahlia is a stressed-out mess of a person, not helped by the remnants of her programming occasionally conflicting with reality (such as her ironclad belief that the Protectorate will capture and dissect her for study if she's discovered, artificially-instilled by her creator to ensure that her tech didn't end up in the hands of the heroes) and a dawning awareness of just how bad her situation was in hindsight.

=== Power ===
After her trigger, Dahlia's power rapidly mutated her to save her life. Passively she exists as a large mass of soft tissues, various organs, muscle, fat, etc., capable of extremely fast regeneration and reconfiguration, dissolving and regrowing various bodyparts and organic compounds as-necessary, manifesting everything from a rainbow of human and animal-derived pigments, to fully-functional eyes, or various organs (largely limited to variations on human bodyparts, though with a lot of flexibility and room for alterations therein, she can bulk up or make more sensitive ears but is incapable of mimicking electric eel parts to shock people, as an example) at the drop of a hat. Because of her unorthodox body structure, she breathes directly through her skin, effectively has no organs unless she creates them, and does not bleed unless she creates a circulatory system or converts part of her mass into blood cells, though she still needs to eat (and due to her ability to manipulate the structures of her body, she can reconstruct her digestive system to handle things a normal person wouldn't be able to obtain nutrients from and digest materials that would typically be harmful) or else she will starve. The maximum amount of mass she can reach is roughly 400lbs, and she can survive when severely reduced in mass, though she can still be killed if fully destroyed (such as being dissolved in acid, incinerated, disintegrated, etc.) and any mass that's separated from her will rapidly lose cohesion, turning into a slurry of cells.

However, she cannot grow bone or similar inflexible structures (she can do cartilage, but the result is so flexible that it's useless for any kind of support except on small scales), requiring her to build and maintain a tinkertech skeleton to affix herself to, providing structure for mutations and allowing her to move around freely. Due to her unique physiology, damage to specific organs or her flesh doesn't impair her at all unless it severely reduces her mass, since she can just replace what was harmed, but her ''skeleton'' is her weakpoint, parts removed or smashed out of alignment equating to malformed limbs and other impairments that need to be fixed out of combat. If she's ever fully removed from a frame she's effectively rendered incapable of movement, only able to slowly drag her mass around, forming weak pseudopods to manipulate objects and interact with her surroundings until she manages to build herself a support structure.

Her tinkering almost solely extends to the production of various scaffolds and support structures, without the potential for exotic elements or even motorized components (in most cases) on her own, quite weak and without much room to expand into other areas, though she can make a variety of frames for a variety of purposes coupled with her altered form, ranging from enabling functional wings to multiple limbs and other potential mutations.

However, when given a sample of another tinker's tech, she can ''universally'' deconstruct it and add it to her own tech in the form of a minor augmentation or trinket, regardless of how close or far it is from her typical creations, even if it's ''biological in nature'' or otherwise exotic. Augmentations created in this way are relatively weak, though they may potentially synergize with various mutations, incorporated into the scaffold she's using or her flesh depending on the result. A pistol from an electricity tinker might be turned into a taser-like implement built into one hand, shocking on contact and working well with forms of enhanced reach; a sample of a vibration tinker's tech might lead to a stunning scream augment wired into a skull, etc. She can have up to two augmentations hooked up to a frame at once (barring specific circumstances and the right tinker assistance, as they're powered by her bioelectricity, which is a limited and fairly weak source of energy, three at once would render them all with insufficient power to function in most situations), as well as swap them to different frames given enough time to uninstall and transfer them.

=== Backstory ===
Dahlia Roslin knew that she had a ''purpose'' in life. Ever since she emerged from the vat of stem cells that supplied her with the blessed form she was painstakingly sculpted into, she heard the voice of her ''creator'', and she ''obeyed''.

She was to assist her in her efforts, act as a second pair of hands, act ''as'' her whenever the situation required it, she was programmed for it all from the very beginning. ''That'' was her purpose, and it was one she performed without question, for it was a necessary task, and a tool that can refuse it's purpose is not a useful tool at all.

She happily complied with every order she was given, playing the part of Sarah Roslin ''perfectly'', as she'd been designed to, while her creator, the true Sarah, continued her acts as the "villain" Sinew, battling the "heroic" forces of the Protectorate in an effort to protect her creations and expand her capabilities. So what if she needed to collect materials from a few jewelry stores, or acquire funds from a few banks? That's what banks are ''for'', and they should be honored to have witnessed the majesty of her creator.

Life continued on, with her creator's fantastic exploits and her simple role to play, going out in the image of her creator, going to college classes in her place and learning, seeing wondrous sights and doing amazing things before heading back to the lab to await further commands. She even met a member of the ''Protectorate'' on patrol one day, holding in her fear long enough to not compromise her purpose and even getting an ''autograph'' for her creator.

One day, however, things were different. Her creator had to defend her lab from a parahuman-led gang seeking to capture her and steal her tech, knowledge she had gained through an informant in the group. Dahlia was sent to her house, ordered to cover for her and not return until she dealt with the coming threat. And so she went. Her creator would be fine, she was ''unbeatable'', after all.

That night, a segment on the news caught her eye.

''Gang clash turns deadly: Ironspine, Egghead, Sinew confirmed dead, several arrests made in the aftermath. Civilian casualties currently unknown.''

Surely it must have been a trick. Her creator would not have died so easily, she's clearly...''hiding, rebuilding her strength for another offense''. Dahlia rationalized it to herself, faith unbroken.

And yet, in the coming days, Dahlia's standing orders remained in place. Her creator did not arrive to relieve her, there was no activity from her lab.

Days turned to weeks, Dahlia began feeling ill. Still, her creator did not come for her favored creation. Impossibly, her faith began to waver, ever so slightly. ''Surely her creator wouldn't have '''abandoned''' her, right?''

Nausea so severe that she was puking after almost every meal, risking her cover more and more with each passing day. A sensation of weakness, draining the strength from her body. Coughing fits that practically immobilized her when they struck, feeling as if her lungs would shred apart with each hacking breath.

Each day, it all threatened to overwhelm her more than the day before, and her faith shook further. Her orders were absolute, she ''could not falter''...and yet, her steps grew shaky, her purpose becoming harder to fulfill.

One night, after a severe bout of nausea sent her scrambling to the bathroom, hacking up blood and bile, something ''ripped'' in her mouth, with a sound like overripe fruit being stepped on, splashing down into the toilet bowl she was leaning over. Half of her tongue floated atop the muck, slowly dissolving into the mess around it.

''Terror. Agony.''

The commands she was given fell away beneath the weight of what had just happened. She needed to ''find'' her creator, needed to be ''healed''. Something ''terrible'' was happening.

In a daze, she makes her way to the lab where she was given form, ignoring how clumps of her hair were falling out with every step, trying to stem the bleeding from her tongue. She struggled to open the door with stiff, uncooperative fingers...

Only to be met with sparking machinery and the scent of rotten meat. Clearly the lab had fallen into disarray while she was gone...but her creator should have come back, should have ''prevented'' this, long ago.

A traitorous thought wormed into her mind, an unthinkable prospect sitting like a rock in her stomach.

''What if she's never coming back?''

''What if they really did kill her?''

...then there was nobody coming to save her.

The fear of death gripped Dahlia's heart, in that moment. She rushed inside as fast as she could. Surely there was something here to heal her, ''restore'' her. She grabbed bits of malfunctioning tech, her skin squishing against the mechanical parts, frantically trying to remember how her creator had used them in order to try and save herself.

Her attempts were clumsy, the results entirely unusable. Hours passed. She felt her left eye deflate, contents putrefying, and tried to repair it. The result was a tumor stuck to her eyesocket, full of underdeveloped eyes. She still couldn't see. She tried again.

The sun shone through the windows. All of her teeth fell out hours ago, she managed to seal her gums shut, which held for all of five minutes until the inside of her mouth began peeling away. Everything was falling apart faster than she could fix it, if she even could.

Her fingers began to slough, her bones visible. She could barely move, and yet she still needed to ''try''.

Her skin sagged on one side of her face, her jaw began to ''shift'' as the muscles securing it to her skull began to rot. She raised a malfunctioning sealing gun to the injury, trying to secure it back in place--

''Splosh''

The weight of the piece of equipment pulled it through her arm, the sudden movement jarring whatever remained solid enough for it to sink past. It clattered to the ground, covered in rotten bits of bone, dripping with muscle, her hand and half of her forearm pouring down around it.

For a few seconds, she just...stared in utter disbelief, as the extent of what she was doing set in. It had been...maybe five, six hours, fumbling her way through trying to restore herself, fucking it up at every turn. Nothing had been working, she was struggling as hard as she could to survive, and nothing worked as she had hoped.

This is how she was going to die. Unable to stand up from the stool she was half-sitting on, half-melted into. Bereft of purpose, condemned to death by the loss of her creator. Lost and alone, falling apart in more ways than one, scrambling to do *anything at all* in the end.

As the vision in her one functioning eye began to dim, her remaining fingers worn down to the bone, surrounded by the inevitable failure of everything her creator had built, ''her'' failure, she ''triggers''--

-----

''Awareness burns through her body. Nothing feels right, rot and apoptosis and pus across skin and muscle and half-organs--''

Instinctively, she turns inwards, shoveling rot and decay into what she could feel was still alive, digestive juices and endless ripping folds recycling the mass, her cells sing and something clatters into place in her mind, buzzing through partially-melted neural tissue and out through skin, what was once a bicep, fragments of bone, things that could be assembled into organs. A single thought, simple and yet earthshattering.

''I'm alive.''

She's in a puddle on the ground, she feels the concrete beneath her, tastes the air, but it's ''not enough'', she needs to ''see''.

Eyes float to the surface, newfound senses stinging for an instant before she adjusts, because she had eyes before and it's ''good'' to have them again, she can even make more and so she does.

Sparking machinery, bubbling flesh, scraps of what used to be her, fills her vision. She crawls around, ever so slowly, delirious in the thought that she's ''alive'', ''she can feel and move and think and a thousand other things''.

But it's not enough. Her mind thrums with inspiration. She knows she cannot grow some things, so she takes, rips apart, carefully rewires, the thoughts of inspiration growing and changing as she finds the really interesting things her understanding has to ''shift'' to comprehend, mind as fluid as her form.

Eventually, she has hands, arms, ribs, legs, she's almost human, almost ''herself'' again, managing to wire together a machine that beats like a heart, printing keratin (almost bone but not right, ''not quite'', there are a lot of almosts with what she can do but that's better than nothing) she can use to quickly assemble solid parts for herself until she gets the metal right, ''determined'' to restore and improve herself.

This continued for about a week, until one night, she heard vans pull up outside of the lab, people talking. Someone had tipped off the Protectorate to her activities, she needed to ''hide'', ''quickly''.

So she stuffed herself into an empty vat, hiding the skeleton she just managed to finish and expanding to fill the container, smearing herself with the decayed remnants still present on the surface and doing her best to play dead.

Soldiers wearing the PRT insignia opened the door, inspecting everything and taking samples where they could, even ''scooping out a sample of her flesh'' while she was frozen in fear. They began taking everything they could safely remove, loading it all, along with her, onto a vehicle.

Inside of the truck, Dahlia was ''terrified''. She ''knew'' what the Protectorate would do to her, her creator had told her horror stories of how they treat creations like her. She needed to escape as soon as she got the chance.

The truck slowed to a stop and she sprung into action, climbing out of the vat and smashing out the window with one metal arm, managing to squeeze herself out and start ''sprinting'' away as the shouts of the men in the truck echoed behind her. A bullet struck her in the back, the jolt of pain ignored as the wound closed up, a set of eyes forming on the back of her head to watch for more gunfire. She kept running. Another shot deflected off of the rod in her leg, pushing it out of alignment, she reinforced it with a length of keratin from the only augment she managed to create with her creator's tech, something to supply what she could not create herself. She kept running even as her injured leg grew worse, refusing to let herself slow down.

She needed to ''repair herself'', needed to ''disappear''. So she ''ran'' as fast as she could towards the lights in the distance, a city that would have ''food'' and ''shelter'' and ''materials'' and ''safety''.

And so, Dahlia found herself on the streets of Devilfish, Minnesota.

Rebar

2023-03-09T08:03:13Z

Shadeshadow227: Created page with " {{cape |name = Rebar |alias =  |civ_name = Teresa Mason |pronouns = she/her |author = /u/Shadeshadow227 |alignment = Villain<!--..."

Scoria

2022-07-30T18:21:26Z

Shadeshadow227: Resubmitted Scoria to make some changes and clarify some things, couldn't edit the reddit post

{{cape
|name = Scoria
|alias = 
|civ_name = Samantha Dawson
|pronouns = She/Her
|author = /u/Shadeshadow227
|alignment = Hero
|affiliation = None
|status = Active
|location = Devilfish


|class = {{cape/class|Trump}}/{{cape/class|Striker}}
|rep_morality = -1
|rep_notoriety = D
|rep_criminal =


|redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/rt9p7l/scoria/
|image = 
|caption = 
|birth_date = 2006-03-7
|birth_place = Devilfish, USA



|}}

A new hero's on the loose. Drug dealers, and ''only'' drug dealers, found beaten and restrained for the police to find, broken bones and burn scars a fairly common sight, though there haven't been any deaths. Other, rarer scenes that point to this cape's involvement have a noticeably lighter touch, equally-serious criminals merely restrained until the cuffs are brought out, hands sealed together behind them by red-hot ropes or stone casts.

Clearly someone with a grudge choosing to crack down on certain types of crooks, dangerous and seeming to enjoy hurting those who piss her off.



== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


Civ: Samantha's a tired-looking teenage girl, brown hair perpetually in disarray and bags under her brown eyes, usually seen wearing a red hoodie and jeans.

Cape: As Scoria, she wears a black jacket and dark jeans stylized and accentuated with bits of polished metal sewn in and lines of orange spray-paint snaking across her clothing. Her mask is similar, a blank metal one spray-painted black, orange lines radiating out from around the eyeholes and similarly-colored lenses put in.

=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level: 2''

* Terrible phone

* Zip-ties, for restraining more targets than she has available powers

* A couple of clearly handmade knives made using pieces of her stone, not the most well-made, yet effective when she needs to cut something without burning it


=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Can sew and knit

* Used to play volleyball at her high school pre-trigger, left the team after getting powers

* Has experience with brute powers in a general fashion, and knows how to leverage what she can do to seem threatening, despite only recently becoming a cape herself.

=== Mentality ===
Out of costume, Samantha's a fairly cheerful girl, prone to crude language and jokes.

In costume, her identity as Scoria is her outlet. Serious, focused, and prone to anger against those that set her off. A vigilante with a grudge against certain "acceptable" targets.

Utterly despises capes who grant powers or otherwise enhance others, seeing most of them as having some hidden agenda in most circumstances, extending that hatred towards drug dealers and whoever else may cross her path that uses fear or a negative incentive to pressure others.

=== Power ===
Scoria is an Alexandria package with a suite of decently strong abilities:

* Flight, capping out at around 30 miles per hour, with the ability to stop or change direction (not counting continuous movement in a single direction or along a single path, so any actual turning or spinning is unaffected, but she can switch from moving at maximum speed upwards immediately into moving down or to one side without needing to slow down or stop) instantly, though it takes around 12 seconds to accelerate to max speed from a standstil. Due to the power involving sudden massive shifts in momentum and speed, Scoria is effectively immune to the effects of high G-Forces on the human body.
* The ability to encase up to two parts of her body (head, torso, each arm and leg individually, etc.) in a thick layer of lightweight yet durable stone (taking about a second to fully generate, faster to move it to another area, but Scoria's still limited by her ability to react in time to an attack), black and glassy, capable of withstanding small-arms fire (roughly equivalent to IIIA body armor, standing up to a single rifle shot or around a dozen pistol shots, depending on the force behind each shot) and taking around six seconds to restore itself when shattered, though any fragments broken off persist, acting as pieces of normal stone. Typically, this is a single unbroken patch (except for on the head, where there are gaps for the eyes, mouth, etc.) that seals any parts this is used on in place, though she can choose to weaken it around the knees and elbows to allow for some movement in those areas. She can throw a punch with fists of stone, harden herself against harm, but can’t perform anything requiring fine dexterity or movement of her hands, feet, etc. The rock the armor is made of doesn't conduct electricity, has a high melting point and conducts heat well (though manton protections likely make that a moot point in most circumstances), becomes more brittle when frozen (though again, probably a moot point since Scoria has her whip), acting like normal stone under most other circumstances.
* The ability to generate and freely control a whiplike tendril of molten (roughly 300°C) rock, thirty feet long, cutting through flesh and wood, setting flammable objects on fire, and heating up materials like metal or stone. It always originates from one of her limbs (palm of each hand, or the heel of her foot, taking around a second to grow to full length), but she can control how it moves enough to twist it around, tie it in knots, or even safely restrain people and manipulate small objects. The whip itself is fairly durable, but can be cut or torn with enough force as it'd take to cut a normal rope, severed sections rapidly losing cohesion and acting like normal stone would at that temperature, taking around a second to restore itself when damaged. Comes with a general resistance to heat, and complete immunity to the effects of her own weapon.

In addition to all of these abilities, she has one more thing she’s capable of:

Granting these powers to people she touches, losing them in the process but keeping immunity to her own granted abilities, as well as being able to assert control over the powers she gives out at any time. Granted powers also come with the associated Manton protections, resistance to heat for the whip, immunity to intense g-forces for the flight, etc., and Scoria gains a rough proprioception-esque sense of where any materials (or in the case of the flight, the person using it, their position and orientation, etc.) generated by her power are in relation to herself, as well as what position they're in at that distance.

Giving someone her flight and using that to put them through a window, restraining criminals by tying them up in her whip or encasing their bodyparts in stone, etc., are all things she’s capable of.

Granted powers last until taken back, which Scoria can do at-will at any point after giving them out, or until whoever has one leaves a range of roughly a hundred feet around her.

''Trigger type'': Trump/Striker (Brute, Blaster, Mover)

=== Backstory ===
Her family was always an absolute mess.

Almost-always absent father, always working. A mother who insists on doing nothing. A sister, forced to do ''everything''. Two brothers, both too young to realize how fucked up things were.

And then there was her. The one who ran. The one who hid. Never home, always somewhere else. Volleyball, freerunning with friends, after-school clubs and programs, anything that let her be away from home for a few hours or even minutes, work off her nervous energy and come back ready to deal with everything.

This worked well, she was happy…until, one day, her sister vanished. An argument tuened nasty, she stormed out and never came back.

And from there, things got worse.

Samantha was the oldest now. The burden fell on her shoulders to take care of things, now that her sister was out of the picture. She had responsibilities of her own, things she had to do.

Balancing everything was impossible.

Birthdays, holidays, special events, housework, dinner, taking care of her brothers, practice, time with friends…she didn’t have any time for herself, didn’t have the energy to keep up as she had, everyone knew it.

She started lagging behind on the volleyball team, sluggish and tired, sleeping less and less to keep up with it all. Doing poorly in school, forgetting important things, cancelling on her friends time and time again, suffering under the weight of what she was expected to do.

Then, someone approached her at school. A friend of a friend, who noticed her plight and gave her an offer.

He was a cape. One who could enhance other people, make them stronger, faster, ''better''. He could help her, if she helped him.

At first, it was money he asked for, and she obliged. The first few boosts made her feel great, like she was on top of the world. She could handle anything, started doing better at practice and during games, even managing to keep up with her mother’s demands at home. Sure, the crashes sucked, but it was bearable until she could get her next dose.

Until they started getting worse, after about a week. Chills, spasms, nausea. She confronted him, he acted oblivious.

“You must be getting used to it. Haven’t done this much, maybe your body’s accepting this as normal, and that’s why it feels so bad?”

She just grit her teeth, and asked for another dose.

He wouldn’t accept money. She’d get the power, but had to do something afterwards. Nothing too bad, just…put on a mask, threaten some unsavory individuals who had moved in near his home, get them to go away. No need to actually hurt anyone, of course. He’d never make her do that.

Homeless people, squatting in an abandoned building.

She tried bargaining with him. He threatened to cut her off. She agreed, put on the gaudy-looking wrestler mask, walked into the building. Cracked brickwork with her punches, threatened to hurt people, scared them off.

He recorded it all. Blackmail material. People would recognize her voice, he said.

And so, she dug herself deeper, every day. She got the power she needed just to feel ''normal'' now, the withdrawals something that sent her reeling every time she had the nerve to refuse. Things were getting worse.

She hurt someone during practice. Complete accident, spiked a ball into someone’s leg, broke it in three places. Put her in the hospital.

She couldn’t do it anymore. This had to stop.

She confronted him. Threatened him. He tapped her on the arm and sent her to the ground, everything going hazy as she slowed to a crawl, senses blunted and the strength ripped from her body.

Even so, she still refused. Managed to clean herself up, get home, only to collapse in bed and sleep like the dead. Woke up barely functioning, sweating in December, thoughts running like molasses, almost as if she’d been up all night instead of having just slept for ten hours.

She struggled to her feet, and just being upright nearly sent her to the ground again, a wave of dizziness and nausea threatening to have her collapse and empty her stomach on the floor.

She managed to get to the school, get him alone, reduced to ''begging'' for him to give her what she needs, making whatever promises she needs to to have him agree.

The sudden jolt of clarity, of ''strength'', feels like heaven. She feels better than ever, she’s ''okay'' again, like flicking a light-switch…and he could take it away whenever he wanted to, if she disobeyed.

She breaks down crying, sobbing quietly as he tries to comfort her.

“Everything’s all better now, yeah? Don’t do that again. Please don’t make me do that again.”

She wanted to hurt him. It would be so easy. Just reach out, grab his head in one hand, and squeeze, bones cracking like eggshells. She didn’t dare.

And so, life continued. His demands became even riskier, consequences more severe…for her, that is. He got off scot-free, forcing her to take the blame herself, as he threatened and coerced others, with her as his weapon of choice. Acquiesce or get beaten bloody. She couldn’t say no.

And then, he got her a costume. A gaudy thing in black and blue. Finally going out, he told her. To use the powers she was granted, ''earn'' them.

Her first task? See how powerful she really is. Enter a department store, take out the security, make off with as much as she can carry. She met up with him in a nearby alleyway, disbelieving but unable to refuse.

“Don’t hesitate to break some legs, if you have to.”

She hesitated. Threatening people…she didn’t like it, but sure. But this was ''too far''. Hurting people, ''innocent'' people, ''badly'', for money. Not to mention, heroes would undoubtedly show up. She couldn’t fight a fucking ''cape''. He wasn’t serious, right? This was crazy.

She couldn’t move. She had to. Couldn’t get away, couldn’t stay, couldn’t do it. What could she do?

“Useless fucking…''go'', Sam!”

Her strength left her, drawing even more out with it. His patience had finally run dry, having decided to give her an incentive to obey. Going further than ever, since this was important.

Vomit burned her throat on it’s way out. She couldn’t hold herself up, so she collapsed on her side, body heaving as the nausea hit. She could see blood mixed in with the sick.

“You were so willing to do everything before. Why now? Why do you have to be so ''stupid'' '''''now''''', of all times?!”

His boot hit her stomach, she dry-heaved again, clear fluid and blood coming up.

Again.

''Again''.

“Why do you never ''listen''? Why do you make me do this? W-”

Reality skips, like a record-scratch on the face of the planet. She blinks, and everything changes.

-----

She hears screaming, sees her tormentor on the ground, clutching his hand. Two of his fingers lay charred and smoking in the puddle of vomit she had produced earlier.

Light shines from a red-hot outgrowth on her arm, uncoiled and hanging in the air, looking almost like a strand of honey.

She’s too weak to move, so she floats upright, the feeling of flight like being held in a giant’s fist, power settling into her bones and pinning her in midair. Her chest feels heavy, and she looks down to see her own reflection in it, black glass reflecting the light of her whip. It drags along the ground, pavement heating up beneath it.

She looks like shit, feels even worse…but now? Anger burns where the fear once was, and she forces herself to move towards him.

He swears and scrambles back, back against a wall. She can feel something from him. A void? Something? It’s empty.

She reaches out, hand resting on his cheek, and feels the stone slide into place as she makes contact. Both of his legs petrify, as the covering on her torso disappears.

“I, this–this was just, I, uh, ''please, don’t''–”

Her grip tightens, and she slams his head into the bricks behind him, once, twice.

He’s barely conscious, afterwards.

Her mouth tastes like iron, she spits to the side and leans in, coughing on him before managing to speak.

“…please, don’t make me do that again.”

She smiles, spits on him, and flies away.

Black Diamond

2022-03-12T08:20:07Z

Shadeshadow227:

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Black Diamond}}
{{cape
| name = Black Diamond
| alias = 
| civ_name = Stephanie Davis
| author = /u/Shadeshadow227
| alignment = Hero
| affiliation = Wards
| status = Active
| location = Devilfish

| class = {{cape/class|Tinker}} ({{cape/class|Shaker}}), {{cape/class|Changer}} ({{cape/class|Blaster}})
| rep_morality = 3
|rep_notoriety = C
|rep_criminal =
| redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/podloq/stephanie_davis_whiteout/
| image = 
| caption = 
| birth_date = 2007-01-03
| birth_place = Duluth, Minnesota

| height_ft =
| height_in =
| height_cm = |
}}

Black Diamond's a fairly new Ward, not much is known about her, though there are unconfirmed rumors that she's connected to a violent assault on one of the villains of the city.




== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


Civ: Stephanie is a short, 5'0 teenage girl, with black hair, blue eyes, and lightly-tanned skin. Her powers have altered her appearance, giving her vent-slits on various areas of her body, but she can close them with some effort when necessary, leaving near-invisible lines behind, not usually noticeable unless someone's either actively looking for them or using anything that'd let them notice very small details about her appearance.

Cape: In costume, Black Diamond's aesthetic is clearly meant to be snowboarder-esque, an armored winter coat and a helmet making up most of it, goggles over her eyes and various detachable segments letting her plug in tech as necessary, "extreme terrain" symbols marked in key areas such as her torso and either side of her helmet.
=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level'': 4

* Decent cell phone
* A few sets of handcuffs
* Can of pepper spray

=== Tinkertech ===
==== Rustblades ====

* ''Appearance'': Two foot-long connection-plugs of metal pipes and intricate circuitry (almost like giant nails) that are pushed through the vents on both of her hands and into her arms, with a tracery of rusty wires sprouting from the ends that poke out of her palms, wrapping around her arms and hands. When in use, unwinds into a set of claws visibly vibrating as machinery rumbles underneath Black Diamond's skin.
* ''Abilities'': Can corrode most kinds of stone, metal, etc. on contact, not doing enough to destroy them outright, but creating patches of rust and corroded material on surfaces. Objects affected by this piece of tech become brittle, prone to breaking, cracking, or shattering when struck, sending up flakes of rust which can get into eyes, mouths, open wounds, stinging like ''hell'' and making it painful to move as they dig deeper. The Rustblades also function as melee weapons, the thin wires making for fairly sharp cutting tools as well as being able to knot and coil to form clubs. Disables use of her Shaker power through her arms.

==== Contrail Boots Mk.I ====

* ''Appearance'': A set of chunky-looking tinkertech boots made of polished black metal. In hoverboard mode, unfolds and connects into a small snowboard-esque hoverboard, with her boots (and therefore, her feet) firmly attached to it.

* ''Abilities'': Has two modes, boots and hoverboard, both used for mobility but with different methods and purposes. The boots allow her to glide across surfaces on a thin layer of vapor, skating at high speed (capable of moving at roughly 20mph), with the ability to freeze the vapor the boots release into a patch of extremely slick ice that extends out to 30’ of herself, which she can navigate over without issue.

The hoverboard configuration is slower (roughly 2/3 the speed of the skating the boots enable), but allows for fully-maneuverable flight, leaving trails of the same vapor in her wake, which can be frozen using her blasts to coat everything within the trail in a layer of the frozen substance.

In both modes, the vapor acts as a paralytic, more dense with the boots but more spread out with the hoverboard, meant to disorient and disable opponents. Villains slip on the ice, go down, get a mouthful of the gas and are overcome with coughing and respiratory issues as it starts to work on the mouth, throat, and lungs, or alternatively they stumble into a cloud of the stuff, start being less able to move, and less able to resist when the cloud gets frozen into a trapping layer of the frozen paralytic, soaking through clothes and skin to get to the bloodstream.

* ''Notes'': Made from her Filtration Mask and Jetboots, with assistance from Ammonite.

==== Ignition Gun ====

* ''Appearance'': A shoulder-mounted flamethrower that hooks into her back, a large canister of greenish fluid on the back of the weapon being fed by tubing that leads into her vents.

* ''Abilities'': Sprays a temperature-sensitive accelerant with a range of roughly fifty feet, which can either be ignited with the pilot light built into the weapon, or set off with one of her blasts. When ignited, it creates a gout of flame capable of causing severe burns if used on unprotected flesh, as the volatile mix of reactants catches fire. When frozen, it reacts to turn the spray into a chilled, half-frozen slush of ice and foul gunk that tends to soak into whatever’s hit with it, with its horrible stench and awful texture often causing nausea and other related reactions in those nearby.

==== Bio-patch Gauntlet ====

* ''Appearance'': A thin, left-handed gauntlet with sharpened points at the fingertips and a hole in the palm. Has a small hole in the pointer finger which acts as a syringe for introducing new DNA samples into the gauntlet for further fabrication.

* ''Abilities'': Creates and shapes small globs of biomass, effectively benign tumors, to patch up wounds and maintain the functioning of certain bodyparts, loosely programmed with an intended function and requiring a previously-collected DNA sample to synthesize patches for individuals other than Black Diamond herself, which are stable for roughly a day before they start to die and rot, making this a short-term method of healing at best.

==== Thanatoxin ====

* ''Appearance'': Undiluted, it's a mix of different types of sludge, what her other tech filters out concentrated and combined together, colorful and bubbling, greens and reds and purples swirling together. Mixed with water, it disperses into it, tinting it a dark, semi-opaque gray.

* ''Abilities'': Rapidly begins to eat away at the structures of the body upon being exposed to unprotected living matter, breaking apart various soft tissues, attacking the functionality of practically every organ in the body, as well as causing the (comparatively) slow breakdown of the nervous system. Exposure is fatal within minutes, except in the case of some altered biologies or high-tier biokinetic/regenerative powers, on a case by case basis. Can be safely mixed with water in small doses while maintaining its effects, to be used in various devices.

* ''Notes'': Created from the filtered-out byproducts of her tech, typically condensed and collected for disposal, to be used as an absolute last resort against major threats susceptible to it, in situations where her life and the lives of others are at risk. Black Diamond *really* doesn't want to ever need this. Part of her efforts to arm herself in preparation for potential attack by the Reclaimers.

==== Stealth Injectors ====

* ''Appearance'': A series of jointed syringes mounted on a set of gauntlets, containers for various concoctions hidden away within where they connect to the vents in her hands, the entire thing capable of folding up and being stored within her arms.

* ''Abilities'': Doesn't produce any sort of toxins on its own, but is meant to directly inject other concoctions she makes for her tech, intensifying the effects via a direct method of application.

* ''Notes'': Part of her efforts to arm herself in preparation for potential attack by the Reclaimers.

==== Nightfall Armor ====

* ''Appearance'': A mishmash of exhaust pipes, containers, and armor plating, over an agility frame, all of it hidden away in her vents (except for the ones on her hands) when not in use. Trails black smoke when in use.

* ''Abilities'': Allows Black Diamond to create an opaque, dense smog that is solid enough to be almost like a thick gel, compacting together whenever something impacts it. Provides resistance against kinetic force and certain kinds of energy attacks, as the smog flows out from her body and dampens hits. Due to it's density, it could potentially drown people if breathed in, though the flow is low enough that it effectively only surrounds her body and trails behind where she moves, dispersing harmlessly after thirty seconds unless frozen. When hit with one of her blasts, the smog freezes outright at the point of impact, becoming a durable solid material that can be interacted with, which is neutrally-buoyant within the gaseous form of itself.

* ''Notes'': Part of her efforts to arm herself in preparation for potential attack by the Reclaimers.

=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Beautiful singing voice, as much as she hates to admit it.

* Skilled at identifying escape routes and other things she can use to disengage from a situation.

=== Mentality ===
Generally nervous and somewhat afraid of physical confrontation, but her own tech and the power it gives her has left her a little overconfident, so she's able to be a lot brighter and happy in costume, and she would happily talk shop with another Tinker for hours on end. Prone to panic attacks, especially when in situations that mirror her trigger event and the events surrounding it. Despite her hesitance and fear, she has an intense temper when genuinely angered, flipping from calm to shouting whenever something sets her off.

=== Power ===
Black Diamond's powerset is twofold. Firstly, she possesses vents in certain parts of her body (on her cheeks, down her back, on the palms of her hands, on her calves, and down her front starting from over her stomach), that can produce powerful gusts of freezing wind and stinging snow with a range of roughly 30 feet at maximum power, strong enough to toss people back, slow things down, extinguish flames, etc. Generally tends to hurt a fair bit more than it really should, despite not causing much actual damage by itself, and her vents usually passively remain active on a lower intensity unless she deliberately closes them, surrounding her with cold air, the intensity ramping up if she gets stressed. Comes with a general resistance to the cold.

Secondly, Black Diamond is a Magi Tinker with a specialty in pollution, creating pieces of personal tech that plug into and draw power from the vents in her body, weakening or outright eliminating her ability to use her Shaker power if she uses enough at once as it’s all siphoned away to power it, general dieselpunk vibe with the mess and smog turned way up. Jet-boots that produce thick clouds of exhaust, guns mounted on her back that fire metal slugs dripping with toxic oil, a hose that spews streams of disgusting sludge, etc., generally revolving around using or generating deleterious effects she can then manipulate.

''Trigger type'': Natural single trigger, can second-trigger. Tinker (Shaker), Changer (Blaster).

=== Backstory ===
Piano lessons at six years old. Two to four, every day. Cookies and smiles, as she showed her mother what she learned. Frowning at every wrong note.

Third-grade, star of the choir, solos and showers of praise from teachers, from family, from her mom. She had a stutter in the beginning, forced to practice until she could pronounce her words effectively, better than her peers. ''“No dinner until you can ask for it clearly, Stephanie.”''

Nine years old, her first recital. Eyes glued to the keys, her mother’s gaze burning right through her, searching for mistakes. She had to be perfect, and so she was.

Ten years old, staying out with friends, losing track of time and coming home to screaming, half an hour late. Her mother called the cops, called her father, called ''everyone'' in a panic, shouting at Stephanie as she was dragged into the house. A mumbled excuse gets her slapped, and she falls to the floor. Sent to bed, without getting to eat. Her cheek stings, as she seethes under the covers. She sneaks out again a week later.

Middle school. Classes, private lessons, home, practice, bed. Day after day. No time for friends, she made them anyway. Minutes between classes, venting and joking, wishing school could last forever so that she wouldn’t have to go home. No time for hobbies, she had a recital coming up, advanced classes to study for, starring role in her school’s musical she needs to practice for, day after day. She has her first panic attack at eleven, sitting on her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Too many to count after that, over the years.

Her most recent one, the first on-stage, happens at fourteen, falling to pieces with a microphone in her hand during a local talent competition, months of practicing down the drain as she mis-speaks during the song she decided to sing. She’s frozen as her performance comes to a screeching halt halfway through, brain thrown into chaos as she tries to correct herself. A single mistake cascades into a breakdown, cameras cutting away as she’s led offstage, terrified of how her mother will react.

The ride home is eerily silent, she barely breathes. Once they’re home, her mother explodes. ''How could she '''fuck up like that'''? After all that she’s done for her, after every lesson she paid for and everything she’s sacrificed to prepare her child for success, '''that’s''' what she got back?''

She angrily responds, screaming that she wants to ''live her life'', and gets locked in her room for the night for the trouble.

The next morning, she comes down to see her mom on the couch, textbooks on the coffee table and a phone in her hand.

She’s no longer enrolled at her school. Too many bad influences, and home-schooling is more effective anyways. She already has tutors ready who will teach her, so she can keep a closer eye on her daughter. So something like ''yesterday'' doesn’t happen again. She protests. Fights against the idea. What about her ''friends''? What about her ''life'' outside of what her mother wants?

An argument sparks up, insults tossed about. She ''hates'' music, hates her life, wishes she could have gone to live with her father.

Accusations of faking the breakdown for attention, to spite her mother, and any number of other reasons, are tossed her way in response, back and forth.

She doesn’t remember what finally pushed things too far, just the aftermath. Her nose breaks under her mother’s fist, sending her stumbling back from the hit and crashing into the china cabinet, shards of glass stinging her skin as something shatters against her head. The world turns to a mess of noise and color, as the concussion hits her.

Her mother stands over her, red-faced, words muddied and muffled as she shouts at her to stand up, words sloshing together into a roar of indistinguishable noise boring its way into her brain, somehow every insult, every stupid thing she’s ever been forced to do, every single time she broke under the pressure. Always the same, shouting and violence. She can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s always been too much. Always a failure. Always more mistakes, always less freedom. Stop. ''Stop. Please. Stop. STO-''

Something inside of her ''finally'' '''''snaps''''' as she triggers, and a burst of air throws her mom fifteen feet back. Her skin itches and her head swims as she staggers to her feet, making a beeline for the front door. So many ideas, so much she can do. But right now, she needs to ''get away''.

She collapses on her dad’s doorstep in the city of Devilfish three hours later, a half-finished, half-melted set of prototype jet-boots smoking and sparking on her feet.

Scoria

2022-01-29T20:54:26Z

Black Diamond

2021-12-13T00:48:20Z

Shadeshadow227:

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Black Diamond}}
{{cape
| name = Black Diamond
| alias = 
| civ_name = Stephanie Davis
| author = /u/Shadeshadow227
| alignment = Hero
| affiliation = Wards
| status = Active
| location = Devilfish

| class = {{cape/class|Tinker}} ({{cape/class|Shaker}}), {{cape/class|Changer}} ({{cape/class|Blaster}})
| rep_morality = 3
| rep_notoriety = D
| rep_criminal = 
| redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/podloq/stephanie_davis_whiteout/
| image = 
| caption = 
| birth_date = 2007-01-03
| birth_place = Duluth, Minnesota

| height_ft =
| height_in =
| height_cm = |
}}

Black Diamond's a fairly new Ward, not much is known about her, though there are unconfirmed rumors that she's connected to a violent assault on one of the villains of the city.




== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


Civ: Stephanie is a short, 5'0 teenage girl, with black hair, blue eyes, and lightly-tanned skin. Her powers have altered her appearance, giving her vent-slits on various areas of her body, but she can close them with some effort when necessary, leaving near-invisible lines behind, not usually noticeable unless someone's either actively looking for them or using anything that'd let them notice very small details about her appearance.

Cape: In costume, Black Diamond's aesthetic is clearly meant to be snowboarder-esque, an armored winter coat and a helmet making up most of it, goggles over her eyes and various detachable segments letting her plug in tech as necessary, "extreme terrain" symbols marked in key areas such as her torso and either side of her helmet.
=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level'': 4

* Decent cell phone
* A few sets of handcuffs
* Can of pepper spray

=== Tinkertech ===
==== Rustblades ====

* ''Appearance'': Two foot-long connection-plugs of metal pipes and intricate circuitry (almost like giant nails) that are pushed through the vents on both of her hands and into her arms, with a tracery of rusty wires sprouting from the ends that poke out of her palms, wrapping around her arms and hands. When in use, unwinds into a set of claws visibly vibrating as machinery rumbles underneath Black Diamond's skin.
* ''Abilities'': Can corrode most kinds of stone, metal, etc. on contact, not doing enough to destroy them outright, but creating patches of rust and corroded material on surfaces. Objects affected by this piece of tech become brittle, prone to breaking, cracking, or shattering when struck, sending up flakes of rust which can get into eyes, mouths, open wounds, stinging like ''hell'' and making it painful to move as they dig deeper. The Rustblades also function as melee weapons, the thin wires making for fairly sharp cutting tools as well as being able to knot and coil to form clubs. Disables use of her Shaker power through her arms.

==== Contrail Boots Mk.I ====

* ''Appearance'': A set of chunky-looking tinkertech boots made of polished black metal. In hoverboard mode, unfolds and connects into a small snowboard-esque hoverboard, with her boots (and therefore, her feet) firmly attached to it.

* ''Abilities'': Has two modes, boots and hoverboard, both used for mobility but with different methods and purposes. The boots allow her to glide across surfaces on a thin layer of vapor, skating at high speed (capable of moving at roughly 20mph), with the ability to freeze the vapor the boots release into a patch of extremely slick ice that extends out to 30’ of herself, which she can navigate over without issue.

The hoverboard configuration is slower (roughly 2/3 the speed of the skating the boots enable), but allows for fully-maneuverable flight, leaving trails of the same vapor in her wake, which can be frozen using her blasts to coat everything within the trail in a layer of the frozen substance.

In both modes, the vapor acts as a paralytic, more dense with the boots but more spread out with the hoverboard, meant to disorient and disable opponents. Villains slip on the ice, go down, get a mouthful of the gas and are overcome with coughing and respiratory issues as it starts to work on the mouth, throat, and lungs, or alternatively they stumble into a cloud of the stuff, start being less able to move, and less able to resist when the cloud gets frozen into a trapping layer of the frozen paralytic, soaking through clothes and skin to get to the bloodstream.

* ''Notes'': Made from her Filtration Mask and Jetboots, with assistance from Ammonite.

==== Ignition Gun ====

* ''Appearance'': A shoulder-mounted flamethrower that hooks into her back, a large canister of greenish fluid on the back of the weapon being fed by tubing that leads into her vents.

* ''Abilities'': Sprays a temperature-sensitive accelerant with a range of roughly fifty feet, which can either be ignited with the pilot light built into the weapon, or set off with one of her blasts. When ignited, it creates a gout of flame capable of causing severe burns if used on unprotected flesh, as the volatile mix of reactants catches fire. When frozen, it reacts to turn the spray into a chilled, half-frozen slush of ice and foul gunk that tends to soak into whatever’s hit with it, with its horrible stench and awful texture often causing nausea and other related reactions in those nearby.

==== Bio-patch Gauntlet ====

* ''Appearance'': A thin, left-handed gauntlet with sharpened points at the fingertips and a hole in the palm. Has a small hole in the pointer finger which acts as a syringe for introducing new DNA samples into the gauntlet for further fabrication.

* ''Abilities'': Creates and shapes small globs of biomass, effectively benign tumors, to patch up wounds and maintain the functioning of certain bodyparts, loosely programmed with an intended function and requiring a previously-collected DNA sample to synthesize patches for individuals other than Black Diamond herself, which are stable for roughly a day before they start to die and rot, making this a short-term method of healing at best.

=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Beautiful singing voice, as much as she hates to admit it.

* Skilled at identifying escape routes and other things she can use to disengage from a situation.

=== Mentality ===
Generally nervous and somewhat afraid of physical confrontation, but her own tech and the power it gives her has left her a little overconfident, so she's able to be a lot brighter and happy in costume, and she would happily talk shop with another Tinker for hours on end. Prone to panic attacks, especially when in situations that mirror her trigger event and the events surrounding it. Despite her hesitance and fear, she has an intense temper when genuinely angered, flipping from calm to shouting whenever something sets her off.

=== Power ===
Black Diamond's powerset is twofold. Firstly, she possesses vents in certain parts of her body (on her cheeks, down her back, on the palms of her hands, on her calves, and down her front starting from over her stomach), that can produce powerful gusts of freezing wind and stinging snow with a range of roughly 30 feet at maximum power, strong enough to toss people back, slow things down, extinguish flames, etc. Generally tends to hurt a fair bit more than it really should, despite not causing much actual damage by itself, and her vents usually passively remain active on a lower intensity unless she deliberately closes them, surrounding her with cold air, the intensity ramping up if she gets stressed. Comes with a general resistance to the cold.

Secondly, Black Diamond is a Magi Tinker with a specialty in pollution, creating pieces of personal tech that plug into and draw power from the vents in her body, weakening or outright eliminating her ability to use her Shaker power if she uses enough at once as it’s all siphoned away to power it, general dieselpunk vibe with the mess and smog turned way up. Jet-boots that produce thick clouds of exhaust, guns mounted on her back that fire metal slugs dripping with toxic oil, a hose that spews streams of disgusting sludge, etc., generally revolving around using or generating deleterious effects she can then manipulate.

''Trigger type'': Natural single trigger, can second-trigger. Tinker (Shaker), Changer (Blaster).

=== Backstory ===
Piano lessons at six years old. Two to four, every day. Cookies and smiles, as she showed her mother what she learned. Frowning at every wrong note.

Third-grade, star of the choir, solos and showers of praise from teachers, from family, from her mom. She had a stutter in the beginning, forced to practice until she could pronounce her words effectively, better than her peers. ''“No dinner until you can ask for it clearly, Stephanie.”''

Nine years old, her first recital. Eyes glued to the keys, her mother’s gaze burning right through her, searching for mistakes. She had to be perfect, and so she was.

Ten years old, staying out with friends, losing track of time and coming home to screaming, half an hour late. Her mother called the cops, called her father, called ''everyone'' in a panic, shouting at Stephanie as she was dragged into the house. A mumbled excuse gets her slapped, and she falls to the floor. Sent to bed, without getting to eat. Her cheek stings, as she seethes under the covers. She sneaks out again a week later.

Middle school. Classes, private lessons, home, practice, bed. Day after day. No time for friends, she made them anyway. Minutes between classes, venting and joking, wishing school could last forever so that she wouldn’t have to go home. No time for hobbies, she had a recital coming up, advanced classes to study for, starring role in her school’s musical she needs to practice for, day after day. She has her first panic attack at eleven, sitting on her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Too many to count after that, over the years.

Her most recent one, the first on-stage, happens at fourteen, falling to pieces with a microphone in her hand during a local talent competition, months of practicing down the drain as she mis-speaks during the song she decided to sing. She’s frozen as her performance comes to a screeching halt halfway through, brain thrown into chaos as she tries to correct herself. A single mistake cascades into a breakdown, cameras cutting away as she’s led offstage, terrified of how her mother will react.

The ride home is eerily silent, she barely breathes. Once they’re home, her mother explodes. ''How could she '''fuck up like that'''? After all that she’s done for her, after every lesson she paid for and everything she’s sacrificed to prepare her child for success, '''that’s''' what she got back?''

She angrily responds, screaming that she wants to ''live her life'', and gets locked in her room for the night for the trouble.

The next morning, she comes down to see her mom on the couch, textbooks on the coffee table and a phone in her hand.

She’s no longer enrolled at her school. Too many bad influences, and home-schooling is more effective anyways. She already has tutors ready who will teach her, so she can keep a closer eye on her daughter. So something like ''yesterday'' doesn’t happen again. She protests. Fights against the idea. What about her ''friends''? What about her ''life'' outside of what her mother wants?

An argument sparks up, insults tossed about. She ''hates'' music, hates her life, wishes she could have gone to live with her father.

Accusations of faking the breakdown for attention, to spite her mother, and any number of other reasons, are tossed her way in response, back and forth.

She doesn’t remember what finally pushed things too far, just the aftermath. Her nose breaks under her mother’s fist, sending her stumbling back from the hit and crashing into the china cabinet, shards of glass stinging her skin as something shatters against her head. The world turns to a mess of noise and color, as the concussion hits her.

Her mother stands over her, red-faced, words muddied and muffled as she shouts at her to stand up, words sloshing together into a roar of indistinguishable noise boring its way into her brain, somehow every insult, every stupid thing she’s ever been forced to do, every single time she broke under the pressure. Always the same, shouting and violence. She can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s always been too much. Always a failure. Always more mistakes, always less freedom. Stop. ''Stop. Please. Stop. STO-''

Something inside of her ''finally'' '''''snaps''''' as she triggers, and a burst of air throws her mom fifteen feet back. Her skin itches and her head swims as she staggers to her feet, making a beeline for the front door. So many ideas, so much she can do. But right now, she needs to ''get away''.

She collapses on her dad’s doorstep in the city of Devilfish three hours later, a half-finished, half-melted set of prototype jet-boots smoking and sparking on her feet.

Whiteout

2021-12-12T22:10:10Z

Shadeshadow227: Shadeshadow227 moved page Whiteout to Black Diamond: changed things to reflect the new name

#REDIRECT [[Black Diamond]]

Black Diamond

2021-12-12T22:10:09Z

Shadeshadow227: Shadeshadow227 moved page Whiteout to Black Diamond: changed things to reflect the new name

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Black Diamond}}
{{cape
| name = Black Diamond
| alias = 
| civ_name = Stephanie Davis
| author = /u/Shadeshadow227
| alignment = Hero
| affiliation = Wards
| status = Active
| location = Devilfish

| class = {{cape/class|Tinker}} ({{cape/class|Shaker}}), {{cape/class|Changer}} ({{cape/class|Blaster}})
| rep_morality = 3
| rep_notoriety = D
| rep_criminal = 
| redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/podloq/stephanie_davis_whiteout/
| image = 
| caption = 
| birth_date = 2007-01-03
| birth_place = Duluth, Minnesota

| height_ft =
| height_in =
| height_cm = |
}}

Black Diamond's a fairly new Ward, not much is known about her, though there are unconfirmed rumors that she's connected to a violent assault on one of the villains of the city.




== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


Civ: Stephanie is a short, 5'0 teenage girl, with black hair, blue eyes, and lightly-tanned skin. Her powers have altered her appearance, giving her vent-slits on various areas of her body, but she can close them with some effort when necessary, leaving near-invisible lines behind, not usually noticeable unless someone's either actively looking for them or using anything that'd let them notice very small details about her appearance.

Cape: In costume, Black Diamond's aesthetic is clearly meant to be snowboarder-esque, an armored winter coat and a helmet making up most of it, goggles over her eyes and various detachable segments letting her plug in tech as necessary, "extreme terrain" symbols marked in key areas such as her torso and either side of her helmet.
=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level'': 4

* Decent cell phone
* A few sets of handcuffs
* Can of pepper spray

=== Tinkertech ===
==== Ooze Cannon ====

* ''Appearance'': A large, prehensile hose connected to a pack strapped to her back, several feet of tubing running from it through the vents on her stomach and in her back, retracted back into itself when inactive.
* ''Abilities'': Heavily restricts her ability to use her blasts while active (limiting her range and output to a weak kind of burst of air, more a kinda-painful shove than anything else), instead processing the snow and wind into torrents of a foul sludge that take time to build up, sprayed out and manipulated using the hose itself or what little power she has left to freeze and shove it around, each discharge covering roughly ten feet around the impact site, with a maximum range of around thirty feet from Black Diamond. The sludge is ''vile'', thick and heavy almost like honey, putrid and hot, the kind of stink that takes a few showers to get out, 100% the kind of thing you never want getting in your mouth or nose.

==== Jet-Boots Mk.III ====

* ''Appearance'': A pair of bulky tinkertech boots mostly made out of scrap and twisted metal pipes, machinery clunky and large, absolutely roars on takeoff.
* ''Abilities'': Plugs into the vents in her legs, allowing for quick bursts of movement in any direction covering about 20 feet each, venting trails of thick black smog behind her as she zips around, which can be blown around using her blasts or other things that would interact with the smoke, shoving around parts of the smog. The trails of smoke are somewhat hazardous to breathe in, sending people into coughing fits as it coats their tongue, the inside of their mouth and nose, something in their lungs violently protesting the presence of the foreign substance. Disables use of her Shaker power through her legs.

==== Rustblades ====

* ''Appearance'': Two foot-long connection-plugs of metal pipes and intricate circuitry (almost like giant nails) that are pushed through the vents on both of her hands and into her arms, with a tracery of rusty wires sprouting from the ends that poke out of her palms, wrapping around her arms and hands. When in use, unwinds into a set of claws visibly vibrating as machinery rumbles underneath Black Diamond's skin.
* ''Abilities'': Can corrode most kinds of stone, metal, etc. on contact, not doing enough to destroy them outright, but creating patches of rust and corroded material on surfaces. Objects affected by this piece of tech become brittle, prone to breaking, cracking, or shattering when struck, sending up flakes of rust which can get into eyes, mouths, open wounds, stinging like ''hell'' and making it painful to move as they dig deeper. The Rustblades also function as melee weapons, the thin wires making for fairly sharp cutting tools as well as being able to knot and coil to form clubs. Disables use of her Shaker power through her arms.

==== Filtration Mask ====

* ''Appearance'': A large, bulky helmet made of scrap metal enclosing her whole head, machinery rumbling and groaning as Black Diamond breathes. Pipes fan out at the sides, leading to two central ones connected to what looks like a speaker at the front of the helmet.
* ''Abilities'': Allows Black Diamond to fire a burst of oil from the mouthpiece of the helmet, coating surfaces in a roughly 15' cone with a substance that makes it difficult to move without sliding around, people's momentum carrying them right over the oil slicks this lets her place down unless they're careful about how they move or have any effects to bypass it, and Black Diamond herself can use the oil to skate around freely in areas covered with it provided she has a method of propulsion available. Disables use of her Shaker power through the vents on her face as well as blocking her from speaking while generating oil.




=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Beautiful singing voice, as much as she hates to admit it.

* Skilled at identifying escape routes and other things she can use to disengage from a situation.

=== Mentality ===
Generally nervous and somewhat afraid of physical confrontation, but her own tech and the power it gives her has left her a little overconfident, so she's able to be a lot brighter and happy in costume, and she would happily talk shop with another Tinker for hours on end. Prone to panic attacks, especially when in situations that mirror her trigger event and the events surrounding it. Despite her hesitance and fear, she has an intense temper when genuinely angered, flipping from calm to shouting whenever something sets her off.

=== Power ===
Black Diamond's powerset is twofold. Firstly, she possesses vents in certain parts of her body (on her cheeks, down her back, on the palms of her hands, on her calves, and down her front starting from over her stomach), that can produce powerful gusts of freezing wind and stinging snow with a range of roughly 30 feet at maximum power, strong enough to toss people back, slow things down, extinguish flames, etc. Generally tends to hurt a fair bit more than it really should, despite not causing much actual damage by itself, and her vents usually passively remain active on a lower intensity unless she deliberately closes them, surrounding her with cold air, the intensity ramping up if she gets stressed. Comes with a general resistance to the cold.

Secondly, Black Diamond is a Magi Tinker with a specialty in pollution, creating pieces of personal tech that plug into and draw power from the vents in her body, weakening or outright eliminating her ability to use her Shaker power if she uses enough at once as it’s all siphoned away to power it, general dieselpunk vibe with the mess and smog turned way up. Jet-boots that produce thick clouds of exhaust, guns mounted on her back that fire metal slugs dripping with toxic oil, a hose that spews streams of disgusting sludge, etc., generally revolving around using or generating deleterious effects she can then manipulate.

''Trigger type'': Natural single trigger, can second-trigger. Tinker (Shaker), Changer (Blaster).

=== Backstory ===
Piano lessons at six years old. Two to four, every day. Cookies and smiles, as she showed her mother what she learned. Frowning at every wrong note.

Third-grade, star of the choir, solos and showers of praise from teachers, from family, from her mom. She had a stutter in the beginning, forced to practice until she could pronounce her words effectively, better than her peers. ''“No dinner until you can ask for it clearly, Stephanie.”''

Nine years old, her first recital. Eyes glued to the keys, her mother’s gaze burning right through her, searching for mistakes. She had to be perfect, and so she was.

Ten years old, staying out with friends, losing track of time and coming home to screaming, half an hour late. Her mother called the cops, called her father, called ''everyone'' in a panic, shouting at Stephanie as she was dragged into the house. A mumbled excuse gets her slapped, and she falls to the floor. Sent to bed, without getting to eat. Her cheek stings, as she seethes under the covers. She sneaks out again a week later.

Middle school. Classes, private lessons, home, practice, bed. Day after day. No time for friends, she made them anyway. Minutes between classes, venting and joking, wishing school could last forever so that she wouldn’t have to go home. No time for hobbies, she had a recital coming up, advanced classes to study for, starring role in her school’s musical she needs to practice for, day after day. She has her first panic attack at eleven, sitting on her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Too many to count after that, over the years.

Her most recent one, the first on-stage, happens at fourteen, falling to pieces with a microphone in her hand during a local talent competition, months of practicing down the drain as she mis-speaks during the song she decided to sing. She’s frozen as her performance comes to a screeching halt halfway through, brain thrown into chaos as she tries to correct herself. A single mistake cascades into a breakdown, cameras cutting away as she’s led offstage, terrified of how her mother will react.

The ride home is eerily silent, she barely breathes. Once they’re home, her mother explodes. ''How could she '''fuck up like that'''? After all that she’s done for her, after every lesson she paid for and everything she’s sacrificed to prepare her child for success, '''that’s''' what she got back?''

She angrily responds, screaming that she wants to ''live her life'', and gets locked in her room for the night for the trouble.

The next morning, she comes down to see her mom on the couch, textbooks on the coffee table and a phone in her hand.

She’s no longer enrolled at her school. Too many bad influences, and home-schooling is more effective anyways. She already has tutors ready who will teach her, so she can keep a closer eye on her daughter. So something like ''yesterday'' doesn’t happen again. She protests. Fights against the idea. What about her ''friends''? What about her ''life'' outside of what her mother wants?

An argument sparks up, insults tossed about. She ''hates'' music, hates her life, wishes she could have gone to live with her father.

Accusations of faking the breakdown for attention, to spite her mother, and any number of other reasons, are tossed her way in response, back and forth.

She doesn’t remember what finally pushed things too far, just the aftermath. Her nose breaks under her mother’s fist, sending her stumbling back from the hit and crashing into the china cabinet, shards of glass stinging her skin as something shatters against her head. The world turns to a mess of noise and color, as the concussion hits her.

Her mother stands over her, red-faced, words muddied and muffled as she shouts at her to stand up, words sloshing together into a roar of indistinguishable noise boring its way into her brain, somehow every insult, every stupid thing she’s ever been forced to do, every single time she broke under the pressure. Always the same, shouting and violence. She can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s always been too much. Always a failure. Always more mistakes, always less freedom. Stop. ''Stop. Please. Stop. STO-''

Something inside of her ''finally'' '''''snaps''''' as she triggers, and a burst of air throws her mom fifteen feet back. Her skin itches and her head swims as she staggers to her feet, making a beeline for the front door. So many ideas, so much she can do. But right now, she needs to ''get away''.

She collapses on her dad’s doorstep in the city of Devilfish three hours later, a half-finished, half-melted set of prototype jet-boots smoking and sparking on her feet.

Black Diamond

2021-12-12T22:05:49Z

Shadeshadow227: Changed things to fir the rename/costume change that came with joining the wards

{{DISPLAYTITLE:Black Diamond}}
{{cape
| name = Black Diamond
| alias = 
| civ_name = Stephanie Davis
| author = /u/Shadeshadow227
| alignment = Hero
| affiliation = Wards
| status = Active
| location = Devilfish

| class = {{cape/class|Tinker}} ({{cape/class|Shaker}}), {{cape/class|Changer}} ({{cape/class|Blaster}})
| rep_morality = 3
| rep_notoriety = D
| rep_criminal = 
| redditlink = https://www.reddit.com/r/wormrp/comments/podloq/stephanie_davis_whiteout/
| image = 
| caption = 
| birth_date = 2007-01-03
| birth_place = Duluth, Minnesota

| height_ft =
| height_in =
| height_cm = |
}}

Black Diamond's a fairly new Ward, not much is known about her, though there are unconfirmed rumors that she's connected to a violent assault on one of the villains of the city.




== Character Sheet ==
=== Appearance ===


Civ: Stephanie is a short, 5'0 teenage girl, with black hair, blue eyes, and lightly-tanned skin. Her powers have altered her appearance, giving her vent-slits on various areas of her body, but she can close them with some effort when necessary, leaving near-invisible lines behind, not usually noticeable unless someone's either actively looking for them or using anything that'd let them notice very small details about her appearance.

Cape: In costume, Black Diamond's aesthetic is clearly meant to be snowboarder-esque, an armored winter coat and a helmet making up most of it, goggles over her eyes and various detachable segments letting her plug in tech as necessary, "extreme terrain" symbols marked in key areas such as her torso and either side of her helmet.
=== Equipment and Resources ===
''Wealth Level'': 4

* Decent cell phone
* A few sets of handcuffs
* Can of pepper spray

=== Tinkertech ===
==== Ooze Cannon ====

* ''Appearance'': A large, prehensile hose connected to a pack strapped to her back, several feet of tubing running from it through the vents on her stomach and in her back, retracted back into itself when inactive.
* ''Abilities'': Heavily restricts her ability to use her blasts while active (limiting her range and output to a weak kind of burst of air, more a kinda-painful shove than anything else), instead processing the snow and wind into torrents of a foul sludge that take time to build up, sprayed out and manipulated using the hose itself or what little power she has left to freeze and shove it around, each discharge covering roughly ten feet around the impact site, with a maximum range of around thirty feet from Black Diamond. The sludge is ''vile'', thick and heavy almost like honey, putrid and hot, the kind of stink that takes a few showers to get out, 100% the kind of thing you never want getting in your mouth or nose.

==== Jet-Boots Mk.III ====

* ''Appearance'': A pair of bulky tinkertech boots mostly made out of scrap and twisted metal pipes, machinery clunky and large, absolutely roars on takeoff.
* ''Abilities'': Plugs into the vents in her legs, allowing for quick bursts of movement in any direction covering about 20 feet each, venting trails of thick black smog behind her as she zips around, which can be blown around using her blasts or other things that would interact with the smoke, shoving around parts of the smog. The trails of smoke are somewhat hazardous to breathe in, sending people into coughing fits as it coats their tongue, the inside of their mouth and nose, something in their lungs violently protesting the presence of the foreign substance. Disables use of her Shaker power through her legs.

==== Rustblades ====

* ''Appearance'': Two foot-long connection-plugs of metal pipes and intricate circuitry (almost like giant nails) that are pushed through the vents on both of her hands and into her arms, with a tracery of rusty wires sprouting from the ends that poke out of her palms, wrapping around her arms and hands. When in use, unwinds into a set of claws visibly vibrating as machinery rumbles underneath Black Diamond's skin.
* ''Abilities'': Can corrode most kinds of stone, metal, etc. on contact, not doing enough to destroy them outright, but creating patches of rust and corroded material on surfaces. Objects affected by this piece of tech become brittle, prone to breaking, cracking, or shattering when struck, sending up flakes of rust which can get into eyes, mouths, open wounds, stinging like ''hell'' and making it painful to move as they dig deeper. The Rustblades also function as melee weapons, the thin wires making for fairly sharp cutting tools as well as being able to knot and coil to form clubs. Disables use of her Shaker power through her arms.

==== Filtration Mask ====

* ''Appearance'': A large, bulky helmet made of scrap metal enclosing her whole head, machinery rumbling and groaning as Black Diamond breathes. Pipes fan out at the sides, leading to two central ones connected to what looks like a speaker at the front of the helmet.
* ''Abilities'': Allows Black Diamond to fire a burst of oil from the mouthpiece of the helmet, coating surfaces in a roughly 15' cone with a substance that makes it difficult to move without sliding around, people's momentum carrying them right over the oil slicks this lets her place down unless they're careful about how they move or have any effects to bypass it, and Black Diamond herself can use the oil to skate around freely in areas covered with it provided she has a method of propulsion available. Disables use of her Shaker power through the vents on her face as well as blocking her from speaking while generating oil.




=== Skills and Specializations ===
* Beautiful singing voice, as much as she hates to admit it.

* Skilled at identifying escape routes and other things she can use to disengage from a situation.

=== Mentality ===
Generally nervous and somewhat afraid of physical confrontation, but her own tech and the power it gives her has left her a little overconfident, so she's able to be a lot brighter and happy in costume, and she would happily talk shop with another Tinker for hours on end. Prone to panic attacks, especially when in situations that mirror her trigger event and the events surrounding it. Despite her hesitance and fear, she has an intense temper when genuinely angered, flipping from calm to shouting whenever something sets her off.

=== Power ===
Black Diamond's powerset is twofold. Firstly, she possesses vents in certain parts of her body (on her cheeks, down her back, on the palms of her hands, on her calves, and down her front starting from over her stomach), that can produce powerful gusts of freezing wind and stinging snow with a range of roughly 30 feet at maximum power, strong enough to toss people back, slow things down, extinguish flames, etc. Generally tends to hurt a fair bit more than it really should, despite not causing much actual damage by itself, and her vents usually passively remain active on a lower intensity unless she deliberately closes them, surrounding her with cold air, the intensity ramping up if she gets stressed. Comes with a general resistance to the cold.

Secondly, Black Diamond is a Magi Tinker with a specialty in pollution, creating pieces of personal tech that plug into and draw power from the vents in her body, weakening or outright eliminating her ability to use her Shaker power if she uses enough at once as it’s all siphoned away to power it, general dieselpunk vibe with the mess and smog turned way up. Jet-boots that produce thick clouds of exhaust, guns mounted on her back that fire metal slugs dripping with toxic oil, a hose that spews streams of disgusting sludge, etc., generally revolving around using or generating deleterious effects she can then manipulate.

''Trigger type'': Natural single trigger, can second-trigger. Tinker (Shaker), Changer (Blaster).

=== Backstory ===
Piano lessons at six years old. Two to four, every day. Cookies and smiles, as she showed her mother what she learned. Frowning at every wrong note.

Third-grade, star of the choir, solos and showers of praise from teachers, from family, from her mom. She had a stutter in the beginning, forced to practice until she could pronounce her words effectively, better than her peers. ''“No dinner until you can ask for it clearly, Stephanie.”''

Nine years old, her first recital. Eyes glued to the keys, her mother’s gaze burning right through her, searching for mistakes. She had to be perfect, and so she was.

Ten years old, staying out with friends, losing track of time and coming home to screaming, half an hour late. Her mother called the cops, called her father, called ''everyone'' in a panic, shouting at Stephanie as she was dragged into the house. A mumbled excuse gets her slapped, and she falls to the floor. Sent to bed, without getting to eat. Her cheek stings, as she seethes under the covers. She sneaks out again a week later.

Middle school. Classes, private lessons, home, practice, bed. Day after day. No time for friends, she made them anyway. Minutes between classes, venting and joking, wishing school could last forever so that she wouldn’t have to go home. No time for hobbies, she had a recital coming up, advanced classes to study for, starring role in her school’s musical she needs to practice for, day after day. She has her first panic attack at eleven, sitting on her bed with her knees tucked into her chest. Too many to count after that, over the years.

Her most recent one, the first on-stage, happens at fourteen, falling to pieces with a microphone in her hand during a local talent competition, months of practicing down the drain as she mis-speaks during the song she decided to sing. She’s frozen as her performance comes to a screeching halt halfway through, brain thrown into chaos as she tries to correct herself. A single mistake cascades into a breakdown, cameras cutting away as she’s led offstage, terrified of how her mother will react.

The ride home is eerily silent, she barely breathes. Once they’re home, her mother explodes. ''How could she '''fuck up like that'''? After all that she’s done for her, after every lesson she paid for and everything she’s sacrificed to prepare her child for success, '''that’s''' what she got back?''

She angrily responds, screaming that she wants to ''live her life'', and gets locked in her room for the night for the trouble.

The next morning, she comes down to see her mom on the couch, textbooks on the coffee table and a phone in her hand.

She’s no longer enrolled at her school. Too many bad influences, and home-schooling is more effective anyways. She already has tutors ready who will teach her, so she can keep a closer eye on her daughter. So something like ''yesterday'' doesn’t happen again. She protests. Fights against the idea. What about her ''friends''? What about her ''life'' outside of what her mother wants?

An argument sparks up, insults tossed about. She ''hates'' music, hates her life, wishes she could have gone to live with her father.

Accusations of faking the breakdown for attention, to spite her mother, and any number of other reasons, are tossed her way in response, back and forth.

She doesn’t remember what finally pushed things too far, just the aftermath. Her nose breaks under her mother’s fist, sending her stumbling back from the hit and crashing into the china cabinet, shards of glass stinging her skin as something shatters against her head. The world turns to a mess of noise and color, as the concussion hits her.

Her mother stands over her, red-faced, words muddied and muffled as she shouts at her to stand up, words sloshing together into a roar of indistinguishable noise boring its way into her brain, somehow every insult, every stupid thing she’s ever been forced to do, every single time she broke under the pressure. Always the same, shouting and violence. She can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s always been too much. Always a failure. Always more mistakes, always less freedom. Stop. ''Stop. Please. Stop. STO-''

Something inside of her ''finally'' '''''snaps''''' as she triggers, and a burst of air throws her mom fifteen feet back. Her skin itches and her head swims as she staggers to her feet, making a beeline for the front door. So many ideas, so much she can do. But right now, she needs to ''get away''.

She collapses on her dad’s doorstep in the city of Devilfish three hours later, a half-finished, half-melted set of prototype jet-boots smoking and sparking on her feet.

Warlock

2021-11-16T04:51:27Z

Black Diamond

2021-09-18T04:29:01Z

Shatterpoint

2021-09-10T05:58:52Z

Shadeshadow227:

Shatterpoint

2021-09-10T05:28:00Z