Post by Gunslinger on Sept 27, 2006 16:22:57 GMT -5
Name: Roy Nichols
Codename: Gunslinger
Affiliation: Brotherhood
Age: 23
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 194 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Green
Appearance:
Roy Nichols is tall and thin with his muscular frame hidden beneath collared shirts, dark jeans and his regular navy blazer. He keeps his hair slightly long, geling it in the morning and then running his hands through it. His face usually has a slightly mischievous appearance, and the sleeves of his shirts are always rolled up, keeping his wrists open to the air.
Because of the blue color of the thin organs beneath his wrists, the insides of his wrists usually have a bruised appearance. He has a tattoo on the top of each hand just below the knuckles: on his left it says Smith, and on the right it says Wesson. Whenever he does something where he doesn't want to be identified, he wears fingerless gloves to cover these.
Powers and Abilities:
Roy has a specialized subcutaneous organ in each wrist below his palms; this organ causes fission in oxygen molecules that touch the skin above it and then immediately absorbs the energy released, storing it in his body. He can then release the energy through the tips of his fingers in the form of short, destructive bursts; this is usually done through a single finger (usually his pointer on each hand with his thumb held up like the hammer on a revolver), being much more controllable with the accuracy of a pistol, but he can fire from all fingers simultaneously with an erratic, shotgun-like effect. He can also release all of the energy stored in his body in a single radial blast of up to 100 yards wide.
Due to the nature of his mutation, Roy has developed his aim through extensive practice and is an expert marksman with sharp reflexes and quick aiming. He has found that these carry over to regular firearms, but rarely uses guns for the sake of impracticality.
Weaknesses:
While Roy’s release of stored-up energy is mostly voluntary, the storing of it is a constant process, and Roy must release the stored up energy; if the buildup becomes too great, a process usually taking approximately 24 hours, he releases it in one of his radial blasts, effectively destroying everything within a 50-yard radius. Not only does this prove to be extremely painful and impractical, rendering him unconscious, but it is also embarrassing, because while his person is immune to the energy he releases, his clothes are not and he wakes up naked in a crater 100 yards across.
Personality:
Normally jovial and charming, albeit in a caustic and witty way, Roy uses a friendly exterior to mask the fact that he almost never creates ties to anyone. He is self-serving and conniving, and while he normally appears carefree he is almost always intensely focused on his intentions.
In combat situations Roy is a swift thinker and enjoys the rush of battle. He is calm and unflappable, his eyes shining with a cold glee.
History:
Roy Nichols was born to loving parents and into a quiet family environment. Throughout his childhood in Seattle he was quiet, polite and kind.
His entire world changed, though, when his mutation developed. He had been feeling ill so his mother let him stay home from school. With his father, a geneticist studying mutation, away at work, Roy tossed and turned in his bed, the pain in his body increasing, until the energy he had been unknowingly storing up for the previous weeks released.
His room was destroyed. Fortunately for Mrs. Nichols, her son’s still-developing mutation only released a minor blast of which she was at the edge; she only suffered a few broken bones and was knocked unconscious.
When Dr. Nichols returned home he found his wife injured and his 12-year-old son unconscious at the middle of the blast radius. Immediately realizing that his son was a mutant, Dr. Nichols considered Roy to be extremely dangerous and whisked him away to a facility for testing and observation.
It was in this facility that Roy spent the next three years of his life, undergoing experiments, tests, and observation at the hands of his father. He slowly became increasingly embittered, given all the niceties of the outside world without the actual freedom to leave. All throughout his third year, he observed and plotted and finally found his chance. During transport from the lab back to his room, he spun on the scientists and guards walking with him in the hall and shot them all down, having honed his skill for three years in his room. Stealing a passcard from one of the dead scientists, he made his way through the halls and escaped.
Making his way out into the world, Roy has lived on his own, moving across the country and robbing small-town banks when he needed money. He made his way to New York and is living in a rundown apartment in the Bronx, keeping himself busy with target practice on the roof.
Sample RP:
Roy smiled amiably at the man, his white teeth bright in the sunlight streaming through the windows at the front of the building. "No hard feelings, right, pal?"
Of course, the security guard didn't answer; he'd been the first one to go down when Roy had burst into the bank. Nothing fatal, just a grazing shot to the head to knock him out. The first scream had made his blood rush before the man had even hit the floor.
It had been simple from there. While the security guards of the small bank in smalltown, Ohio had been reaching for his guns, he'd already had his weapons primed and ready, his fingers darting around, shooting through feet and palms and rendering anyone who got in his way completely useless. Everyone else had dropped to the ground and were laying there with their hands over their heads.
That meant that one of the tellers had already hit the alarm, and he had about 10 minutes. Plenty of time. It had only taken 5 for the teller to fill up his black backpack with cash, and with that strapped to his back, he was backing towards the exit, fingers pointed at the people on the floor.
That's when the sirens sounded in the distance.
Faster than I expected. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it has been a blast. Thank you very much for your cooperation, and remember to look both ways crossing the street!" Roy darted out the door in a flash, turning the corner of the bank and into a dark alley. He pulled the ski mask off his head and held his left hand up, pointer out, watiting for the sirens to get closer. He needed to keep them occupied.
The sirens got louder, and that meant that they were close. Roy breathed out, spun his shoulder on the corner of the building, left arm stuck straight out; his hand leveled at the first cop car in the line and his face curled into a smirk as the bright bolt left his finger, sailing straight into the engine block of the car.
In the seconds it took for the car to explode, Roy was already hurtling down the alleyway towards the light at the end.
(It's me, Rob. Y'know, the fuzzy blue elf, the red bat-man, and the gray... um... guy.)
Codename: Gunslinger
Affiliation: Brotherhood
Age: 23
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 194 lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Green
Appearance:
Roy Nichols is tall and thin with his muscular frame hidden beneath collared shirts, dark jeans and his regular navy blazer. He keeps his hair slightly long, geling it in the morning and then running his hands through it. His face usually has a slightly mischievous appearance, and the sleeves of his shirts are always rolled up, keeping his wrists open to the air.
Because of the blue color of the thin organs beneath his wrists, the insides of his wrists usually have a bruised appearance. He has a tattoo on the top of each hand just below the knuckles: on his left it says Smith, and on the right it says Wesson. Whenever he does something where he doesn't want to be identified, he wears fingerless gloves to cover these.
Powers and Abilities:
Roy has a specialized subcutaneous organ in each wrist below his palms; this organ causes fission in oxygen molecules that touch the skin above it and then immediately absorbs the energy released, storing it in his body. He can then release the energy through the tips of his fingers in the form of short, destructive bursts; this is usually done through a single finger (usually his pointer on each hand with his thumb held up like the hammer on a revolver), being much more controllable with the accuracy of a pistol, but he can fire from all fingers simultaneously with an erratic, shotgun-like effect. He can also release all of the energy stored in his body in a single radial blast of up to 100 yards wide.
Due to the nature of his mutation, Roy has developed his aim through extensive practice and is an expert marksman with sharp reflexes and quick aiming. He has found that these carry over to regular firearms, but rarely uses guns for the sake of impracticality.
Weaknesses:
While Roy’s release of stored-up energy is mostly voluntary, the storing of it is a constant process, and Roy must release the stored up energy; if the buildup becomes too great, a process usually taking approximately 24 hours, he releases it in one of his radial blasts, effectively destroying everything within a 50-yard radius. Not only does this prove to be extremely painful and impractical, rendering him unconscious, but it is also embarrassing, because while his person is immune to the energy he releases, his clothes are not and he wakes up naked in a crater 100 yards across.
Personality:
Normally jovial and charming, albeit in a caustic and witty way, Roy uses a friendly exterior to mask the fact that he almost never creates ties to anyone. He is self-serving and conniving, and while he normally appears carefree he is almost always intensely focused on his intentions.
In combat situations Roy is a swift thinker and enjoys the rush of battle. He is calm and unflappable, his eyes shining with a cold glee.
History:
Roy Nichols was born to loving parents and into a quiet family environment. Throughout his childhood in Seattle he was quiet, polite and kind.
His entire world changed, though, when his mutation developed. He had been feeling ill so his mother let him stay home from school. With his father, a geneticist studying mutation, away at work, Roy tossed and turned in his bed, the pain in his body increasing, until the energy he had been unknowingly storing up for the previous weeks released.
His room was destroyed. Fortunately for Mrs. Nichols, her son’s still-developing mutation only released a minor blast of which she was at the edge; she only suffered a few broken bones and was knocked unconscious.
When Dr. Nichols returned home he found his wife injured and his 12-year-old son unconscious at the middle of the blast radius. Immediately realizing that his son was a mutant, Dr. Nichols considered Roy to be extremely dangerous and whisked him away to a facility for testing and observation.
It was in this facility that Roy spent the next three years of his life, undergoing experiments, tests, and observation at the hands of his father. He slowly became increasingly embittered, given all the niceties of the outside world without the actual freedom to leave. All throughout his third year, he observed and plotted and finally found his chance. During transport from the lab back to his room, he spun on the scientists and guards walking with him in the hall and shot them all down, having honed his skill for three years in his room. Stealing a passcard from one of the dead scientists, he made his way through the halls and escaped.
Making his way out into the world, Roy has lived on his own, moving across the country and robbing small-town banks when he needed money. He made his way to New York and is living in a rundown apartment in the Bronx, keeping himself busy with target practice on the roof.
Sample RP:
Roy smiled amiably at the man, his white teeth bright in the sunlight streaming through the windows at the front of the building. "No hard feelings, right, pal?"
Of course, the security guard didn't answer; he'd been the first one to go down when Roy had burst into the bank. Nothing fatal, just a grazing shot to the head to knock him out. The first scream had made his blood rush before the man had even hit the floor.
It had been simple from there. While the security guards of the small bank in smalltown, Ohio had been reaching for his guns, he'd already had his weapons primed and ready, his fingers darting around, shooting through feet and palms and rendering anyone who got in his way completely useless. Everyone else had dropped to the ground and were laying there with their hands over their heads.
That meant that one of the tellers had already hit the alarm, and he had about 10 minutes. Plenty of time. It had only taken 5 for the teller to fill up his black backpack with cash, and with that strapped to his back, he was backing towards the exit, fingers pointed at the people on the floor.
That's when the sirens sounded in the distance.
Faster than I expected. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it has been a blast. Thank you very much for your cooperation, and remember to look both ways crossing the street!" Roy darted out the door in a flash, turning the corner of the bank and into a dark alley. He pulled the ski mask off his head and held his left hand up, pointer out, watiting for the sirens to get closer. He needed to keep them occupied.
The sirens got louder, and that meant that they were close. Roy breathed out, spun his shoulder on the corner of the building, left arm stuck straight out; his hand leveled at the first cop car in the line and his face curled into a smirk as the bright bolt left his finger, sailing straight into the engine block of the car.
In the seconds it took for the car to explode, Roy was already hurtling down the alleyway towards the light at the end.
(It's me, Rob. Y'know, the fuzzy blue elf, the red bat-man, and the gray... um... guy.)
