Chicane
| Chicane | |
|---|---|
| Author | /u/Shimme |
| Pronouns | She/Her |
| Civilian name | Saoirse “Suzy” Blake |
| Alignment | Hero |
| Affiliation | Rockstars Groupies (Devilfish) |
| PRT Classification | Blaster.Shaker, Thinker, |
| Status | Noncanon |
Character Sheet
Appearance
Left side of head has a tattoo rose that turns into brass knuckles, keeps her hair flipped leaning off to the left. Died bright pink.
Sits tall, works out, and mostly on the “pretty muscles.” Loves her tank tops and gym shorts. Bit of a gym rat. Pale skin, naturally bright red hair, freckled, brilliant green eyes.
Cape appearance:
A bit slapdash, black leotard that fully covers her wrists and ankles with purple-pink leather gloves boots and belt with a white-in-blue emblem of a coin flipped mid-air, and a black “early daredevil s1” bandanna wrapped around her head.
Equipment and Resources
A lot of money she cheated from Vegas before fucking off. Several pounds of mostly low grade narcotics. The keys to a 97 Corolla she forgot where she parked. The numbers of three different women.
Skills and Specializations
Operating farm equipment, Cheating at cards, con-artistry, fist-fighting, improvised weapons, administering ceremonial drug use, became a front-woman for local extreme heavy metal groups in the LA area. Wrote several short stories and creepy-pastas about sci-fi horror. Led the opening ceremony at a Burner. Shot machine guns at a touristy thing in Vegas. Kind of a Gym Rat.
Mentality
She thinks of herself as something like an accessory to a war crime, someone who did unimaginable horrors because it was easy, or safe. There’s a desire to move beyond, to escape old definitional boundaries and create a new identity for herself. She’s spent the last few years drifting between outsider cultures, the people that take in the lost and the directionless. Can’t let go of a kernel of vindictiveness, or righteousness, whatever the fuck it might be.A
Power
1- Creates a metallic gel that she can throw like a ball, which is extremely sticky. She can touch it without getting stuck. Starts off at a few ounces, once it’s touching something that’s not her it adheres and keeps growing in size and mass. After a minute weighs roughly 40 pounds. Porous, allows air through. Can be slowly dismissed at will. Subsumes other power generated materials (EG Force Fields, blaster fires) and turns it into more gel.
2 - Thinker power that calculates what it takes to break something, how much force would need to be brought to bear and if an action would break it. This force is easy to access but can be made hard to be brought to bear if faced with overwhelming stimulus.
3 - Can observe and mildly interact with alternative universes. This takes the form of finding alternative positions that objects can exist within, even in unusual states (EG, a door that is normally left locked is unlocked.)
This can work instantly on touch as long as it’s part of an object she’s currently handling (EG, can fix the tires of a car while she’s driving it.) When she can’t directly touch an object in visual range, she can take a moment to concentrate and make it shift into the state it’s alternate dimensional version exists in. For example, an external fire escape could be forced to drop down when it otherwise wasn’t in position. A firearm could be made to fire when it shouldn’t have been triggered, or ‘actually’ be empty.
This leads to a state where she seems to interact with things and constantly find ‘lucky breaks’. She pulls the lever on the gambling machine that makes her money. There’s a hiding spot where the cops don’t check for illegal substances. The wheels on a car that looked like they hit a spike strip are actually just fine!
This can only work on objects. Generally speaking, the more complicated a thing is the easier it is for Chicane to fuck with it.
Backstory
When it was all over, most of the others talked about a “rebirth” on group chats when they were over the initial shock of being disconnected from breathing tubes, muscles pressing against ground and all that shit.
You remembered. You remembered the pain, and the inhumanity, and the cruelty. When you’d been in it, you’d thought about the “meaning” of it while you’d struggled over robot parents, circumstances that were imaginary, suffering you’d made that didn’t have to happened. Others justified the spiral to monstrosity, to sadism, but you never believed it had to happen.
But you still fucking did it.
You gave out the beatings. Took a gun to someone's knee, and worse. Way fucking worse.
Well, now you were out of that decaying, dying world, And free. Whatever that meant. Free to make her own path, to choose. She thought of the people she’d crushed. Stamped beneath her feet, took a fucking knife to, and much worse. As she looks around her, at the mass of people, muttering, planning, dressed only in emergency foil blankets while a guy in body armor tries to shout information and instructions, you wonder if this will just be another, more elaborate prison.