Geno's Test thread, Don't post.

[Genetic Genocide]

Rays of light illuminated the sterile white flooring within the large condo. Automated blinds throughout the building followed the rising sun as the early morning light shined upon the Techniverse. The condo was sparsely decorated adding to the empty aura it so furiously put off. The only signs of life existed within the walls resided in the master bedroom that only contained a single bed in the middle of the floor. As the light crept its way across the floor towards the bed a single red, menacing, figure appeared over the sleeping man beneath the sheets. As if a ghost the figure didn't move, but as the light changed the figure seemed to change as well – obviously a projection, a hologram of a woman. The hologram didn't utter a single word, but simply watched over the body with solemn eyes. As the light reached the bottom of the bed the man stirred, but only slightly. Eyes opened, and pupils adjusted to the amount of light within the room allowing a clearer picture to be formed. Tossing the covers to one side the man stepped from the bed – ignoring the hologram – and made his way towards the windows on the far side of the room, the light passing over his naked body illuminating the torture of his past each defining a different moment of his life. Even heavily scared the man walked with pride in each step, posture impeccable, as if cut from the cloth of royalty itself. The scars that marred the pale body traveled from his feet upwards past his thighs and most of his chest all fatal in apperance; especially the larger ones where his heart would be, and along the inner thighs following the femoral artery. A single crossed scar existed on the right side of his neck across the carotid, but none existed past that, nor past the elbows of his arms with exception of his right arm. Each could tell a story and as if tattooed upon his skin flowing like art. The same – shamefully – could not be said for his right hand, as halfway up the forearm a jagged circular scar made it's way around the entire circumference of his skin marking the spot where his arm was clearly hacked off very crudely. Though the skin that sat upon the fully functioning metal prosthetic seemed real to the touch and even taste it was surely fake as was a good portion of the man's body. Silver crystalline eyes watched the horizon as the sun crept up the sky and shined upon the Tech allowing him to imagine that all it's inhabitants might burn from the heat. The mere thought brought a crooked smile upon the man's face that could only slightly be made out from behind pure white hair. His features could only be described as sharp and menacing, and displayed almost no emotion as he watch the sun slowly move. The red projection appeared once again this time the woman-figure seemed to be sitting upon his shoulder legs crossed ever so dignified. Her lips moved, but a single word audible, but the man nodded his head in a sense of understanding.

'“Humanity. It's like a disease. You've got the beauty on one side, like this white flower in my right hand. Pure and untouched by the sin of the world. But then you have the ugly on another, like this knife. You see the pure metals bent by malicious intent made only to cause others harm. Sure, the knife could be used for other things, but in the end its sharp point will always be turned on another. You... Father, are the ugly. Sadly, I can't say I've escaped your fate.” The man spoke eloquently but his silver eyes were almost empty, as the knife point touched the flesh of his father's neck. Kneeling down and dressed fully in black all that could really be seen from his fathers position – pressed back against one of the lab tables – was that of his sons silver eyes, white hair, and pale skin. As if the reaper himself had come to lay claim to his life. “Xane... Why?” but the older man's question was only met with laughter. “Why you ask, father?” Xane noted making it a point to restate the question slowly before standing and turning his back to the man whom he had just saved from dying of poison only seconds before. “Because you are a horrible man, and I am but a weapon of this world forged by your ignorance and malice...'

Xane stepped away from the widow leaving the light as he moved in to the large walk in closet of the master bedroom. The closet was filled with expensive tailored suits and only a small shelf of normal everyday clothing; along with an assortment of black ties, suspenders, and belts. As he started to dress himself the hologram appeared once again, this time sitting upon one of the shelves within the closet. Though others could see her no one could hear her, unless she wanted them too at least. The color today seemed to be gray as he continued to don a pair of light gray, fitted, suit pants accompanied by a black of pair of suit shoes. A tanned leather belt, white suit shirt, black tie, and matching light gray suit vest came shortly after. Tucking in the white shirt, buckling his belt, and throwing on a leather shoulder harness holding a black karambit knife and three extra heat-sink clips for his weapon was all one smooth practiced motion. Something that had been done day in and day out as if since birth. The last piece of his attire was a fitted light gray coat. Moving into the Bathroom Xane started the final part of his morning ritual, fixing his hair. The one defining factor that set him apart from his father from birth was his hair, and so he always made it a point to keep it long and rebellious. Xane pulled his white locks back into a ponytail revealing the shaven sides and back. A single braided strand on his right side was left hanging as it held a few decorative beads, in an assortment of colors, and his fathers family ring at the bottom that had been passed down from sometime before the great war. Once he was finished Xane took a moment to stare at the mirror, but he still couldn't recognize the man he had become, and so closed his eyes slowly and began to picture the world inside his mind.

'Opening his eyes as slowly as he closed them the world around him had turned black, nothing in sight for miles. “Valkyrie, Report.” Xane ordered in the business-as-usual tone. It wasn't long before Valkyrie appeared – The red hologram from before – clad in white. The feminine figure wore a simple white dress and heels that matched her white hair. Against the black back-drop you could say her darkened tan skin was almost glowing. Pale-red eyes watched Xane as he blankly stared back, not at all started by the sudden appearance. The woman held a remarkable resemblance to his younger sister, but with her own set of personal touches. “Miss Jaeger and Mr. Renvy interrogations are over, It appears Miss Jaeger spent the night at Mr. Jinchu's place. All night.” She noted giving a slight cough before continuing. “Mr. Locklsey has already gone over the reports, and I believe is currently talking with Miss Everrett. His personality seemed to be slightly conflicted though. He would be a valuable asset. Jek hasn't reported in on his side yet. The disturbance from the other night more than likely caused quite the commotion. It'll be a while before we hear from him.” Xane nodded contemplating his next moves. “Alright. Send Jonathan the coordinates to the old lab on the fringes of the Borderlands It's time he gets his hands on some of the truth. Take all the necessary precautions. Get me in a room with Mr. Renvy as soon as possible, no rush. Wake up all the other contacts and get them to clean up the mess down in the underground and report any findings. Warn Kaelyn I'll be down coming down personally later today. We're close, Val. Check.” The AI smiled eerily at the thought. “Mate, sir.” a wolfish grin swept across Xane's face at her words and he closed his eyes once again, allowing the virtual world to disappear.

Xane opened his eyes to be greeted once again by his own visage – the same wolfish smile staring him down – within the mirror before he turned and walked out of the bathroom. As he made his way into the parlor from the bedroom he continued into the living room where the elevator that would take him down to the lobby would soon be waiting for him. Pressing the button upon the side Xane used the spare time to retrieve the silver pocket-watch from atop the stand next to elevator and grasped his cane within his right hand. When the doors opened and he stepped in he turned a full one-eighty upon his heels catching a short glimpse of his condo before the doors closed. As the elevator dropped towards the lobby he thought over what had had been done, and then what must be done; his sister had just spent the night with a rather seditious fellow, all the while her boyfriend was going through interrogation. Oh, how that was going to sting. A encrypted message was sent to Jonathan Locksley that could only be seen by his eyes, any unwanted on-lookers would only see what looked to be spam from one of the various science magazine that scattered his office. Though if the good Mr. Locksley looked upon it he would see coordinates, and should he follow those particular coordinates they would lead straight to the lab where Xane's fathers body rested. The same very lab Xane was born in, and some of the first Superhuman testing had taken place. The message was signed at the very bottom by a man select few in the Techniverse knew existed, The Wolf. Hopefully Kaelyn would be able to get free, and respond to his notice. Then there was Travis, mix feelings welled up inside Xane about Travis. His file had been marked as couple, with his sister, but should he give him a chance to escape? Would he be of use. He would have to decide after having a chat with the young man. The ding of the elevator reached his ears ending the sporadic line of thinking as it meant that he had now arrived in the lobby. “Time to get into character.” He thought to himself as walked forward, this time portraying a limp with his right leg rather perfectly, even using the cane to fully sell the injury to all whom looked upon him. As far as anyone knew he had been injured in a fight shortly after the DASHR break out that left his right leg somewhat useless. “Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. And where am I taking you today?” He smile at the driver kindly before responding as he did every morning. “Well Dave, I think I'll be paying Dr. Locksley a visit this morning, if you will.”

'… That is why father.” When Xane had turned his back his father stood, and reached out for his son in one last attempt to plea for his life, but there was no hesitation upon Xane's lips, nor his hand as his body turned sharply around – knife in hand – aiming perfectly for his fathers throat. Blood stained the near by equipment and walls, but pooled upon the floor in excess once the body had hit the floor with a rather loud 'thud'. It was at that very moment the beast had been awoken, and at the very second it chose to bear it's fangs. World beware.'

[Genetic Genocide]

“ Ⓓｏｎ'ｔ ｒｕｎ. . . ｙｏｕ ｗｉｌｌ ｏｎｌｙ ｄｉｅ ｔｉｒｅｄ. ”
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"C ould ye please pass the salt uncle ?" Solomon asked as he poked at the steak, that was placed in front of him. His uncle, who was sitting on the other side of the long table, was reading the morning paper as usual. With a quick nod and one of his typical grunts, he took the salt shaker and slid it across the table. Solomon caught it just as it was about to fall of the edge. Why they were eating stake for breakfast, Solomon hadn't the slightest idea. But than again he was still to drowsy to question his uncles choice in meal. Unlike his uncle who was wide awake, wearing a red robe and smoking his oak pipe, Solomon was still in his white tank top, blue shorts and messy bed head.

His uncle glanced at him over the upper edge of the newspaper and gave him a rather stern glare. "Damn. Yer a bloody mess boy. " His uncle spoke in his deep voice, to which Solomon quickly retaliated. " And yer bloody old. What of it ? " He said cutting his stake into small, chew sized squares. His uncle chuckled at his remark, the man having a rather strange sense of humor. " Pipe down and eat yer steak. " After that the table became quiet the only sound that could be heard, was the occasional page being turned, meat being chewed or back being scratched. Solomon never was an early morning talker. He preferred to sober up from his drowsiness before he engaged in any sort of conversation.

After his uncle was done reading the real estate section, he folded the newspaper and placed it to the side of the table. He than reached for a rather fancy looking letter with a rather intricate seal keeping it shut. " Oh I almost forgot. You have mail my boy. " He said waving it in the air, before handing it to the butler who set it in front of the lad. Solomon simply looked at it curiously and than looked up to meet his uncles eyes. " Who is it from ? " He asked as he used his table knife as a makeshift letter opener. his uncle simply shrugged, but by the look on his face he clearly knew who it was from. It took him a minute or so to read through the entire message, but after he did he remained silent for a moment. " So...it's time for me to finish what my father had started. " He than stood up from his seat and continued out of the dinning room . " Excuse me uncle. I have some packing to do. "

Tɪᴍᴇ Sᴋɪᴘ :
---------------&

The trip to his designated was a long one, with several layovers in between. Still, his thoughts made it feel like no time at all. All his progress, all of his training led up to this particular moment. It was time for him to make his way up the mafioso ranks. Soon the large building that was the academy was within his view. The car came to a stop and it didn't take him long to step out and look with anticipation. He was quite eager to see, what challenges this experience would bring. And thought the path that the mafia families took was a hard and dangerous one, he was more than confident that he could handle it. After all, he had been preparing for an opportunity such as this one for a long time. His butlers took his things and carried them off to his designated room.

As he approached the courtyard, he noticed many others present. Whether they were friends or competition...well that would be judged by him when the time was appropriate. Solomon seemed like a friendly chap from first glance. He would occasionally take his hat off and would bow in respect ( especially if they were alluring maidens ), his smile along with his Irish charm seemed to be able to attract the shiest individual. Rule number one, never show hostility unless you aim to back it up with skill. Right now he was still easing into his surroundings. And then the moment they had all been waiting for. The headmaster appeared out of nowhere, like shadow. Many of the students applauded, and naturally Solomon did the same. " Decent presentation. I like his style. " He thought to himself.

After the announcement was over, the crowd of gatherers dispersed. Solomon took out a small key from his pocked which, the number on its tag indicated what room he was to stay in. " 301. Hope I have a nice view. " He returned the key to his coat pocket, and made his way towards his new residence. Along the way he whistled a catchy tune and twirled his pocket watch which was attacked to a silver chain. He occasionally bowed his hat to anyone that crossed his path, keeping a calm appearance the entire time. His confidence was as clear as day. He still wanted to become more acquainted with everyone else, but he decided to play it cool for now.




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†




➟[Lᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ]: Walking along a flight of stairs, heading for his room
➟[Wɪᴛʜ]: Himself
➟[Mᴏᴏᴅ]: Eager

[Genetic Genocide]

Rays of light illuminated the sterile white flooring within the large condo. Automated blinds throughout the building followed the rising sun as the early morning light shined upon the Techniverse. The condo was sparsely decorated adding to the empty aura it so furiously put off. The only signs of life existed within the walls resided in the master bedroom that only contained a single bed in the middle of the floor. As the light crept its way across the floor towards the bed a single red, menacing, figure appeared over the sleeping man beneath the sheets. As if a ghost the figure didn't move, but as the light changed the figure seemed to change as well – obviously a projection, a hologram of a woman. The hologram didn't utter a single word, but simply watched over the body with solemn eyes. As the light reached the bottom of the bed the man stirred, but only slightly. Eyes opened, and pupils adjusted to the amount of light within the room allowing a clearer picture to be formed. Tossing the covers to one side the man stepped from the bed – ignoring the hologram – and made his way towards the windows on the far side of the room, the light passing over his naked body illuminating the torture of his past each defining a different moment of his life. Even heavily scared the man walked with pride in each step, posture impeccable, as if cut from the cloth of royalty itself. The scars that marred the pale body traveled from his feet upwards past his thighs and most of his chest all fatal in apperance; especially the larger ones where his heart would be, and along the inner thighs following the femoral artery. A single crossed scar existed on the right side of his neck across the carotid, but none existed past that, nor past the elbows of his arms with exception of his right arm. Each could tell a story and as if tattooed upon his skin flowing like art. The same – shamefully – could not be said for his right hand, as halfway up the forearm a jagged circular scar made it's way around the entire circumference of his skin marking the spot where his arm was clearly hacked off very crudely. Though the skin that sat upon the fully functioning metal prosthetic seemed real to the touch and even taste it was surely fake as was a good portion of the man's body. Silver crystalline eyes watched the horizon as the sun crept up the sky and shined upon the Tech allowing him to imagine that all it's inhabitants might burn from the heat. The mere thought brought a crooked smile upon the man's face that could only slightly be made out from behind pure white hair. His features could only be described as sharp and menacing, and displayed almost no emotion as he watch the sun slowly move. The red projection appeared once again this time the woman-figure seemed to be sitting upon his shoulder legs crossed ever so dignified. Her lips moved, but a single word audible, but the man nodded his head in a sense of understanding.

'“Humanity. It's like a disease. You've got the beauty on one side, like this white flower in my right hand. Pure and untouched by the sin of the world. But then you have the ugly on another, like this knife. You see the pure metals bent by malicious intent made only to cause others harm. Sure, the knife could be used for other things, but in the end its sharp point will always be turned on another. You... Father, are the ugly. Sadly, I can't say I've escaped your fate.” The man spoke eloquently but his silver eyes were almost empty, as the knife point touched the flesh of his father's neck. Kneeling down and dressed fully in black all that could really be seen from his fathers position – pressed back against one of the lab tables – was that of his sons silver eyes, white hair, and pale skin. As if the reaper himself had come to lay claim to his life. “Xane... Why?” but the older man's question was only met with laughter. “Why you ask, father?” Xane noted making it a point to restate the question slowly before standing and turning his back to the man whom he had just saved from dying of poison only seconds before. “Because you are a horrible man, and I am but a weapon of this world forged by your ignorance and malice...'

Xane stepped away from the widow leaving the light as he moved in to the large walk in closet of the master bedroom. The closet was filled with expensive tailored suits and only a small shelf of normal everyday clothing; along with an assortment of black ties, suspenders, and belts. As he started to dress himself the hologram appeared once again, this time sitting upon one of the shelves within the closet. Though others could see her no one could hear her, unless she wanted them too at least. The color today seemed to be gray as he continued to don a pair of light gray, fitted, suit pants accompanied by a black of pair of suit shoes. A tanned leather belt, white suit shirt, black tie, and matching light gray suit vest came shortly after. Tucking in the white shirt, buckling his belt, and throwing on a leather shoulder harness holding a black karambit knife and three extra heat-sink clips for his weapon was all one smooth practiced motion. Something that had been done day in and day out as if since birth. The last piece of his attire was a fitted light gray coat. Moving into the Bathroom Xane started the final part of his morning ritual, fixing his hair. The one defining factor that set him apart from his father from birth was his hair, and so he always made it a point to keep it long and rebellious. Xane pulled his white locks back into a ponytail revealing the shaven sides and back. A single braided strand on his right side was left hanging as it held a few decorative beads, in an assortment of colors, and his fathers family ring at the bottom that had been passed down from sometime before the great war. Once he was finished Xane took a moment to stare at the mirror, but he still couldn't recognize the man he had become, and so closed his eyes slowly and began to picture the world inside his mind.

'Opening his eyes as slowly as he closed them the world around him had turned black, nothing in sight for miles. “Valkyrie, Report.” Xane ordered in the business-as-usual tone. It wasn't long before Valkyrie appeared – The red hologram from before – clad in white. The feminine figure wore a simple white dress and heels that matched her white hair. Against the black back-drop you could say her darkened tan skin was almost glowing. Pale-red eyes watched Xane as he blankly stared back, not at all started by the sudden appearance. The woman held a remarkable resemblance to his younger sister, but with her own set of personal touches. “Miss Jaeger and Mr. Renvy interrogations are over, It appears Miss Jaeger spent the night at Mr. Jinchu's place. All night.” She noted giving a slight cough before continuing. “Mr. Locklsey has already gone over the reports, and I believe is currently talking with Miss Everrett. His personality seemed to be slightly conflicted though. He would be a valuable asset. Jek hasn't reported in on his side yet. The disturbance from the other night more than likely caused quite the commotion. It'll be a while before we hear from him.” Xane nodded contemplating his next moves. “Alright. Send Jonathan the coordinates to the old lab on the fringes of the Borderlands It's time he gets his hands on some of the truth. Take all the necessary precautions. Get me in a room with Mr. Renvy as soon as possible, no rush. Wake up all the other contacts and get them to clean up the mess down in the underground and report any findings. Warn Kaelyn I'll be down coming down personally later today. We're close, Val. Check.” The AI smiled eerily at the thought. “Mate, sir.” a wolfish grin swept across Xane's face at her words and he closed his eyes once again, allowing the virtual world to disappear.

Xane opened his eyes to be greeted once again by his own visage – the same wolfish smile staring him down – within the mirror before he turned and walked out of the bathroom. As he made his way into the parlor from the bedroom he continued into the living room where the elevator that would take him down to the lobby would soon be waiting for him. Pressing the button upon the side Xane used the spare time to retrieve the silver pocket-watch from atop the stand next to elevator and grasped his cane within his right hand. When the doors opened and he stepped in he turned a full one-eighty upon his heels catching a short glimpse of his condo before the doors closed. As the elevator dropped towards the lobby he thought over what had had been done, and then what must be done; his sister had just spent the night with a rather seditious fellow, all the while her boyfriend was going through interrogation. Oh, how that was going to sting. A encrypted message was sent to Jonathan Locksley that could only be seen by his eyes, any unwanted on-lookers would only see what looked to be spam from one of the various science magazine that scattered his office. Though if the good Mr. Locksley looked upon it he would see coordinates, and should he follow those particular coordinates they would lead straight to the lab where Xane's fathers body rested. The same very lab Xane was born in, and some of the first Superhuman testing had taken place. The message was signed at the very bottom by a man select few in the Techniverse knew existed, The Wolf. Hopefully Kaelyn would be able to get free, and respond to his notice. Then there was Travis, mix feelings welled up inside Xane about Travis. His file had been marked as couple, with his sister, but should he give him a chance to escape? Would he be of use. He would have to decide after having a chat with the young man. The ding of the elevator reached his ears ending the sporadic line of thinking as it meant that he had now arrived in the lobby. “Time to get into character.” He thought to himself as walked forward, this time portraying a limp with his right leg rather perfectly, even using the cane to fully sell the injury to all whom looked upon him. As far as anyone knew he had been injured in a fight shortly after the DASHR break out that left his right leg somewhat useless. “Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. And where am I taking you today?” He smile at the driver kindly before responding as he did every morning. “Well Dave, I think I'll be paying Dr. Locksley a visit this morning, if you will.”

'… That is why father.” When Xane had turned his back his father stood, and reached out for his son in one last attempt to plea for his life, but there was no hesitation upon Xane's lips, nor his hand as his body turned sharply around – knife in hand – aiming perfectly for his fathers throat. Blood stained the near by equipment and walls, but pooled upon the floor in excess once the body had hit the floor with a rather loud 'thud'. It was at that very moment the beast had been awoken, and at the very second it chose to bear it's fangs. World beware.'

[Genetic Genocide]

Rays of light illuminated the sterile white flooring within the large condo. Automated blinds throughout the building followed the rising sun as the early morning light shined upon the Techniverse. The condo was sparsely decorated adding to the empty aura it so furiously put off. The only signs of life existed within the walls resided in the master bedroom that only contained a single bed in the middle of the floor. As the light crept its way across the floor towards the bed a single red, menacing, figure appeared over the sleeping man beneath the sheets. As if a ghost the figure didn't move, but as the light changed the figure seemed to change as well – obviously a projection, a hologram of a woman. The hologram didn't utter a single word, but simply watched over the body with solemn eyes. As the light reached the bottom of the bed the man stirred, but only slightly. Eyes opened, and pupils adjusted to the amount of light within the room allowing a clearer picture to be formed. Tossing the covers to one side the man stepped from the bed – ignoring the hologram – and made his way towards the windows on the far side of the room, the light passing over his naked body illuminating the torture of his past each defining a different moment of his life. Even heavily scared the man walked with pride in each step, posture impeccable, as if cut from the cloth of royalty itself. The scars that marred the pale body traveled from his feet upwards past his thighs and most of his chest all fatal in apperance; especially the larger ones where his heart would be, and along the inner thighs following the femoral artery. A single crossed scar existed on the right side of his neck across the carotid, but none existed past that, nor past the elbows of his arms with exception of his right arm. Each could tell a story and as if tattooed upon his skin flowing like art. The same – shamefully – could not be said for his right hand, as halfway up the forearm a jagged circular scar made it's way around the entire circumference of his skin marking the spot where his arm was clearly hacked off very crudely. Though the skin that sat upon the fully functioning metal prosthetic seemed real to the touch and even taste it was surely fake as was a good portion of the man's body. Silver crystalline eyes watched the horizon as the sun crept up the sky and shined upon the Tech allowing him to imagine that all it's inhabitants might burn from the heat. The mere thought brought a crooked smile upon the man's face that could only slightly be made out from behind pure white hair. His features could only be described as sharp and menacing, and displayed almost no emotion as he watch the sun slowly move. The red projection appeared once again this time the woman-figure seemed to be sitting upon his shoulder legs crossed ever so dignified. Her lips moved, but a single word audible, but the man nodded his head in a sense of understanding.

'“Humanity. It's like a disease. You've got the beauty on one side, like this white flower in my right hand. Pure and untouched by the sin of the world. But then you have the ugly on another, like this knife. You see the pure metals bent by malicious intent made only to cause others harm. Sure, the knife could be used for other things, but in the end its sharp point will always be turned on another. You... Father, are the ugly. Sadly, I can't say I've escaped your fate.” The man spoke eloquently but his silver eyes were almost empty, as the knife point touched the flesh of his father's neck. Kneeling down and dressed fully in black all that could really be seen from his fathers position – pressed back against one of the lab tables – was that of his sons silver eyes, white hair, and pale skin. As if the reaper himself had come to lay claim to his life. “Xane... Why?” but the older man's question was only met with laughter. “Why you ask, father?” Xane noted making it a point to restate the question slowly before standing and turning his back to the man whom he had just saved from dying of poison only seconds before. “Because you are a horrible man, and I am but a weapon of this world forged by your ignorance and malice...'

Xane stepped away from the widow leaving the light as he moved in to the large walk in closet of the master bedroom. The closet was filled with expensive tailored suits and only a small shelf of normal everyday clothing; along with an assortment of black ties, suspenders, and belts. As he started to dress himself the hologram appeared once again, this time sitting upon one of the shelves within the closet. Though others could see her no one could hear her, unless she wanted them too at least. The color today seemed to be gray as he continued to don a pair of light gray, fitted, suit pants accompanied by a black of pair of suit shoes. A tanned leather belt, white suit shirt, black tie, and matching light gray suit vest came shortly after. Tucking in the white shirt, buckling his belt, and throwing on a leather shoulder harness holding a black karambit knife and three extra heat-sink clips for his weapon was all one smooth practiced motion. Something that had been done day in and day out as if since birth. The last piece of his attire was a fitted light gray coat. Moving into the Bathroom Xane started the final part of his morning ritual, fixing his hair. The one defining factor that set him apart from his father from birth was his hair, and so he always made it a point to keep it long and rebellious. Xane pulled his white locks back into a ponytail revealing the shaven sides and back. A single braided strand on his right side was left hanging as it held a few decorative beads, in an assortment of colors, and his fathers family ring at the bottom that had been passed down from sometime before the great war. Once he was finished Xane took a moment to stare at the mirror, but he still couldn't recognize the man he had become, and so closed his eyes slowly and began to picture the world inside his mind.

'Opening his eyes as slowly as he closed them the world around him had turned black, nothing in sight for miles. “Valkyrie, Report.” Xane ordered in the business-as-usual tone. It wasn't long before Valkyrie appeared – The red hologram from before – clad in white. The feminine figure wore a simple white dress and heels that matched her white hair. Against the black back-drop you could say her darkened tan skin was almost glowing. Pale-red eyes watched Xane as he blankly stared back, not at all started by the sudden appearance. The woman held a remarkable resemblance to his younger sister, but with her own set of personal touches. “Miss Jaeger and Mr. Renvy interrogations are over, It appears Miss Jaeger spent the night at Mr. Jinchu's place. All night.” She noted giving a slight cough before continuing. “Mr. Locklsey has already gone over the reports, and I believe is currently talking with Miss Everrett. His personality seemed to be slightly conflicted though. He would be a valuable asset. Jek hasn't reported in on his side yet. The disturbance from the other night more than likely caused quite the commotion. It'll be a while before we hear from him.” Xane nodded contemplating his next moves. “Alright. Send Jonathan the coordinates to the old lab on the fringes of the Borderlands It's time he gets his hands on some of the truth. Take all the necessary precautions. Get me in a room with Mr. Renvy as soon as possible, no rush. Wake up all the other contacts and get them to clean up the mess down in the underground and report any findings. Warn Kaelyn I'll be down coming down personally later today. We're close, Val. Check.” The AI smiled eerily at the thought. “Mate, sir.” a wolfish grin swept across Xane's face at her words and he closed his eyes once again, allowing the virtual world to disappear.

Xane opened his eyes to be greeted once again by his own visage – the same wolfish smile staring him down – within the mirror before he turned and walked out of the bathroom. As he made his way into the parlor from the bedroom he continued into the living room where the elevator that would take him down to the lobby would soon be waiting for him. Pressing the button upon the side Xane used the spare time to retrieve the silver pocket-watch from atop the stand next to elevator and grasped his cane within his right hand. When the doors opened and he stepped in he turned a full one-eighty upon his heels catching a short glimpse of his condo before the doors closed. As the elevator dropped towards the lobby he thought over what had had been done, and then what must be done; his sister had just spent the night with a rather seditious fellow, all the while her boyfriend was going through interrogation. Oh, how that was going to sting. A encrypted message was sent to Jonathan Locksley that could only be seen by his eyes, any unwanted on-lookers would only see what looked to be spam from one of the various science magazine that scattered his office. Though if the good Mr. Locksley looked upon it he would see coordinates, and should he follow those particular coordinates they would lead straight to the lab where Xane's fathers body rested. The same very lab Xane was born in, and some of the first Superhuman testing had taken place. The message was signed at the very bottom by a man select few in the Techniverse knew existed, The Wolf. Hopefully Kaelyn would be able to get free, and respond to his notice. Then there was Travis, mix feelings welled up inside Xane about Travis. His file had been marked as couple, with his sister, but should he give him a chance to escape? Would he be of use. He would have to decide after having a chat with the young man. The ding of the elevator reached his ears ending the sporadic line of thinking as it meant that he had now arrived in the lobby. “Time to get into character.” He thought to himself as walked forward, this time portraying a limp with his right leg rather perfectly, even using the cane to fully sell the injury to all whom looked upon him. As far as anyone knew he had been injured in a fight shortly after the DASHR break out that left his right leg somewhat useless. “Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. And where am I taking you today?” He smile at the driver kindly before responding as he did every morning. “Well Dave, I think I'll be paying Dr. Locksley a visit this morning, if you will.”

'… That is why father.” When Xane had turned his back his father stood, and reached out for his son in one last attempt to plea for his life, but there was no hesitation upon Xane's lips, nor his hand as his body turned sharply around – knife in hand – aiming perfectly for his fathers throat. Blood stained the near by equipment and walls, but pooled upon the floor in excess once the body had hit the floor with a rather loud 'thud'. It was at that very moment the beast had been awoken, and at the very second it chose to bear it's fangs. World beware.'

[Genetic Genocide]

What is life? So full of fear; fear and wonder. Wonder of the world. From the tiniest of creatures to those taller than buildings. Some of them old, very old, and some of them young, oh so very young. That is the universe. Fear, anger, regret, passion. Those are the emotions of life, emotions of life pure and So what then? Prey tell. Is the reason for living?

The sense of urgency shot through the chill of the early Arizona winter wind. The first coat of the winter season had just fallen, leaving the ground a mixture of hard-mush and solid soil. The animals ran in all directions guided only by the moonlight. An old, very old, force driving them into the forest. It was hard to pin-point exactly, but the underlying emotion was most definitely that of fear. Then just out of the corner of an eye, something moved, something inmistakeable; where there was nothing, should be nothing logically. Forcing you not to look. Red eyes watched the forest, scanned for the danger. Moving slowly and cautiously at first. Then faster, ever so faster. Tree after tree, all could be felt in the forest now was fear, but from what? Could that driving force be so strong. What could radiate that much natural fear seemingly encompassing an entire forest. All that was clear was that it was old, so very ancient and powerful. Off in the distance the steam of a man's breath was caught air, and for a moment all of time simply stood still. Fear now locking the owner of the red eyes in place, not letting it move an inch in any direction. WHISSST The point of a sharpened stone knife was the last image burned into the back of the small red eye'd creature's mind. The black-void of death washed over the Hare – Antelope Jackrabbit more like – signaling it's final moments in the world. Pushing back the emptiness of death, a man stepped forward from the point where the knife was thrown. The steam of his breath hanging once again in the air, and for a minute red eyes stared back at the creature. Red eyes that inspired fear, bringing forth that primal feeling that seemed older than time itself. Though only for a moment did these eyes reflect the red, before giving way to the glacier blue that was their natural state; though some might even say they were unnatural as well. Removing a white and mottled brown cloak left the man's scared chest open to the nipping winter wind and revealed the other features that lay hidden underneath. The man was tall, by today’s standards at least, standing a good six foot five. Black-gray hair fell well past his shoulders and down into the small of his back. His skin was dark, tan enough to blend in with those of the Reservation but also light enough to fake other heritages if needed; though as if immune to the chill he continued towards the hare retrieving his knife and then the cloak on his way back out of the forest. The fear was gone, and the man was now heading home, but why had it appeared in the first place? Just who was this man?

The sun had finally risen over the horizon indicating the start of a brand new day and the end of a very long night. The final night for some. What was edible of the hare was now packaged and tucked away in the back of a freezer where it would be stored for the oncoming winter. Of course, the man, a hunter in his own right, could have acquired food more easily, but that would have meant going into the town; something he would obviously rather not do if necessary. The people where nice enough, however fake their niceties maybe, but the less that knew of his existence, the better. At least for now. It was at that moment of time that the sound of a car pulling in front of the house invaded his thoughts, and instinctively the man began to move. As trained the man kicked open the door and let loose the stone knife – Just cleaned from his earlier hunt – towards the now parked car. WHIIST CRACK The knife connected with it's intended target, the driver's side mirror. The driver obviously startled by the sudden attack cowered behind the wheel, but the same couldn't be said about the passenger. The finely dressed woman jumped from the rear passenger door of the stretch limo, gun drawn and trained on the young man, and every intent to shoot after she had found her target. Though as she scanned the front of the cabin the cool steel of a knife touched her throat. “I'd put down your gun. You see I'm not too keen on guns. Never much cared for them.” The woman swallowed quickly, calculating her next move with every passing second. Then with a sigh she dropped her gun in defeat. “There, there. I'm clever. You'll get used to it.” The hunters snipped before returning the double bladed knife back to its sheath just on his forearm, hidden normally by a long sleeved jacket. “I'll be back in a moment.” He said cutting off the nicely dressed woman before she could speak. As he promised, within moments, the hunter returned. This time a black leather jacket – that only fell to about his midsection – was covering his white, zip-up, shirt. The shirt also had a hood that was now pulled up and over the back of the black leather jacket and the top part of a specially designed runners pack that held only one strap. The black-gray hair now pulled up in a loose pony tail that fell across his back Retrieving the stone knife, which was firmly stuck in the driver's side mirror, the hunter eased himself into the back of the stretch limo, finding himself sitting across from the woman he had threatened only moments earlier. “Oh, don't sulk. It doesn't look good on you. I'm Alexander, but everyone just calls me Ark. Don't need yours, we won't know each other long enough for that.” he quipped with a smile. Uncrossing her arms as if in protest but the woman simply sighed and then pressed the intercom button on the edge of her armchair, “We can go now.” She managed to bark before sinking back in her chair begrudgingly. “Could you open the sun roof, your pouting is putting me off.”

The trip seemed to last days, though it had only been hours. Possibly from the fact that Ark was confined that it seemed to last longer than it did. He didn't feel right in buildings, or cars for that matter, at least. As he watched the buildings and adds pass by the window he noticed the slight slow of the car, and the die of the engine. A crooked smile replaced the grim frown that had previously marred Ark's face. The car was currently parked at a stop light, and that gave him the perfect time to strike. Moving fluidly he leaped up through the sun roof and off the side of the car in one single motion before quickly heading into the crowed, lifting up his hood has he went, projecting the idea of invisibility and blending in. The grin still firmly kept upon his face, as he could hear the woman scrambling to figure out where he had gone. With the escort ditched and undoubtedly a larger more deadly one being sent after him, what was Ark's next move? Well first it was time to figure out where the enemy was taking him in the first place. Following the limo Ark found himself outside the front doors of a library of sorts. For all intensive purposes it was a library, if not heavily fortified with security cameras. Though with a deeper look the facade would eventually crumble, if one was looking in the right places of course. The right place being the high quantity of 'staff-only' doors locked with GHOST Corp security locks. Though not uncommon, GHOST corp was everywhere now a'days, it didn't exactly add up; for a library at least. Quickly picking up the nearest book – ironically being the complete history of the Native American – he sat himself nearest the closest 'staff-only' door and waited. It didn't take long until someone came through, and as quickly as jackrabbit he moved from the seat and too the door before it could close. Slipping through the door Ark, made a note to glance at the map on the wall to the right of the door he had just stepped through. The map detailed the complex that ran quite a few ways down into the ground. Four levels, Research, Testing, Training, and what would appear to be living quarters were outlined on the map, but there was also a fifth level. It wasn't detailed on the map, but he could feel the flow of power beneath him. Curiously he found himself following the stairs all the way down after the source of the power just below his feet.

The stairway went on forever. Just spiraled down into the depths of the earth. Until finally there was an ending, and with the sound of footsteps finally beginning to quicken above, it would appear that they noticed someone poking about in their building. Well maybe it was the note he left. Yes, an actual note. “Come and find me, If you can.” - signed Ark. The thought made him laugh, a short melodic bark. That would keep them occupied for a short time at least. As he reached the giant iron door at the bottom of the stairs Ark's grin once again took on a crooked shape. The door was sealed with several different kinds of locks, both physical, metaphysical, and magical of course. Well, when someone locks something; you just have to unlock it right. Reaching out and touching the cast-iron door the feel of fear, the ancient fear, reached forth once again and the door responded throwing itself open before the both. His eyes lighting a fierce red shortly before dying to their normal glacial blue. Past the initial door there was one more, this time just as simple cast iron door, and with the closing – and resealing – of the first door the second opened. Past the second door, where the power radiated from, a chamber was revealed. Unlike the rest of the of the floors in the building the walls were all rock, and the chamber looked more like an underground cave than a room built by a corporation. The room was dark, way too dark to see normally, besides for a circle of rather tall candelabra. Each holding only one candle, all lit and going strong. In the middle of the circle stood one figure, a woman. Though she appeared young her presence was much, much, older. Cute enough, but the light was still dim. At her feet stood another woman, probably the witch who had placed the seals onto the first door. She would have taken the full brunt of the blow back from his powers. Stepping into the circle it was obvious the girl had noticed him, but perhaps she was suspecting someone? More than likely someone she hadn't seen before. As she neared the center of the circled he looked upon the wall, more of a stone slab, with inscribed writing on it. The writing was neither small, nor incredibly large, but it was clearly ancient in origin. “Shall we get started then?”

The inner workings of the ritual was easy enough to discern. As most magical ones where – no imagination needed. With the ceremonial knife Ark cut his right hand over the goblet before passing it to the woman. His blood, red like that of all humans, poured from the wound and into the goblet. After waiting for the woman to do the same he wrapped his wound with the end part of a white cloth, and again waited for the woman to do the same with the other end of the cloth. After she had finished he looked up as the stone wall, more of a giant stone slab embedded into another stony wall that protruded from that of the actual cave itself splitting the room almost in two. “I call upon the powers of this Eoten, and I hereby give the power of my will over to Those Who Eat” All that was left was for her to finish her line, “I call upon the power of this Human's will, and I hereby give the power of the Eoten over to Those Who Protect” After that their bound hands lifted up the goblet and – Ark first then the woman – drank from the mixture of wine and blood to complete the ritual. As the final drop of mixture was drained form the goblet Ark lurched forward falling to his knees, as if an unseen forced was baring down upon him with the weight of the world. In truth Ark's body had always been vary fragile, which was the reason for his love of ranged weapons, but at that moment the fear that had only shown it's face at times of necessity was replaced by the great inferno of fury and anger, engulfing both that of Ark and the woman he had just been bound too; a bright blue flame that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Then as Ark rose he could feel the power of his will for the first time, a power so immense that shook him to his very core. Unlike the fury that had appeared, it was a calming, but very gentle power that the potential to change into something volatile at the drop of a hat. Twenty-five years of sealed energy was finally starting to meld with his body, strengthening him, and if the woman whom was now bonded to him didn't watch out she might be in the same pain he was. Too much Spiritual Energy could be a very bad thing. As Ark tried to straighten himself out the Witch on the floor started stir as well, and the sound of heavy boots could be heard faintly outside the chamber on the stairs. The crooked smile crept upon Ark's face once more as the thought about what would happen next came into his mind.

[Genetic Genocide]

The night air breeze managed to cool the blood of the shadowed man whom now wandered deep within the forest. The dark cloak of night did well to hide his features as he made his way from tree to tree with the grace that was known only to the Elven people. This forest had been his home for many years now, and when someone decided to infiltrate it, the Forest Spirits had always let him know, but this time they had been completely silent. Why?, he thought to himself silently but he had already known the answer, “Soulbound” He managed to whisper almost breathlessly, his face contorting under the darkness of the trees as if the words left an undesired taste in their wake. Living peacefully meant to stay away from trouble, but this incursion smelled exactly that, Big Trouble. Usually he would find any way to stay as far away as possible, but Chaos always seemed but a heart's beat away from this shadowed man. Making his way towards the bridge his heightened sense of smell caught the smell of ash, and wet dog, before his eyes could pick up what was left of the carnage. The blood of the Hell hounds still lingered in the air, but the fresh scent of human blood redoubled the man's efforts and hurried him along. Icy blue eyes pierced the veil of night spotting the lone hell hound, barely breathing on the other side of the river, but in turn paid no mind to the slowly dying creature as he darted through the tree line and towards the Chevalier Kingdoms Gates.

Reaching the Gates, death filled the air and the man found himself cursing his heightened sense of smell for the first time in a long while as he looked over the bodies of both men. Both laid dead, efficiently slain within mere moments of each other. The shadowed man's white hair stood almost on end as he could feel the power slowly boiling deep within him, anger, just barely touching the surface. He was only a moment too late and being both men died instantly the attack could not be too far ahead. The guards gun and keys both gone. Though every instinct told him to stop everything and hunt down the attacker, he knew that he couldn't just leave the bodies where they were. Not on the night before the ball. Tapping into the vast amount of unused power within him the man touched his left hand to the bullet wound of the second guard allowing the icy blue eyes to turn a feint red before subsiding back to their natural color. Once his hand was removed the wound had closed and the body looked as it did before death. The bullet wound completely healed. The Shadowed Man now stood with the light of the moon illuminating his figure as if drawn to him by some supernatural phenomenon. Standing almost seven foot in height the man towered over most humans and even some Dragons as well, but what really stood out was the flawless pale-white skin that held a glowing undertone that was easily spotted in the night, yet blended in so perfectly when he wanted it too. White hair complemented his skin as it was held back by a single hairband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes. The man's features were sharp, his body toned, the body of an experienced fighter one would probably thing, but not the body of a physician. Marrok Vara, the second to those whom lived within the Kingdom for quite sometime, Healer of The Chevalier Kingdom or The Forest Hermit to wandering travelers looking for medical aid. Since his 'fathers' residency he hadn't lost a single patient to illness. Old age, being something harder to cure than broken bones or the flu, but he made them as comfortable as possible before their passing.

Allowing the metal armor to retract from his hands back into the bracelet that it extended from, Marrok focused his power into his hands allowing his finger nails to become blackened and sharp looking more like talons than nails at that point, while his mouth twisted as his canines grew in length. When that was done he set out ripping the throats of each man with his teeth and using his claws to mark the armor in various places that would match a normal Hellhound attack. Removing the gun that had been left on the shot-guard's belt. He fired four rounds into the trees in quick succession before leaving the pistol in the guards hand so to be discovered later. Before letting go of his power completely he cleaned the blood from his skin and clothing making sure there was no trace of it left on him before allowing his appearance to return back to normal. The metal gauntlets returned back to their rightful place once with a slight flick of the wrist in the right direction. The malleable metal armor was placed in various spots around his body, and then covered in what appeared to be leather padding that was sown into various pieces of clothing with intricate designs on each. The lightweight armor style was old, but still effective in today's world; not to mention easily repaired. He wore leather arm guards and then a leather tunic over his bare chest while the his pants were and off white leather that was surrounded with blackened fur from one of the Forest Deer's main. Lightweight armor leggings covered over the fur from the bottom of his thighs downward. There were no weapons to be seen, except for the chain that was wrapped around his waist and covered with a silk scarf that was tied up like belt. Over the leather chest piece a metal plate was chained in order to provide extra protection to his heart. The armor was both battle worthy and formal at the same time. The intricate designs predating that of the War, but the metal pieces newer and sturdier than anything from that time.

Allowing himself to tap back into the well of power within him he unlocked the gate from the outside, before relaxing and taking in a deep breath in order to complete the next part of his plan. “GUARDS COME QUICK!” He yelled in a frightened tone, one that almost perfectly mimiced fear. A staunch man appeared from the guard house next to the gate rather quickly looking alert and angered by the sudden yelling of the man. Marrok managed to choke down a grin as he continued to spin the lie. “The guards outside.” he paused breathing in heavily as if he had run miles to get here. “Attacked . . . Hellhounds.” At the last word the guard perked up and raced outside the gate only to find the mauled bodies. Marrok causally followed the guard back and managed a cringe at the sight of the bodies secretly admiring his handiwork. “The hellhounds got away. They took the first guards gun, and the keys after I frantically threw after I unlocked the gate.” Marrok's noted his tone returning back to normal. The guard turned, about to speak until he recognized whom exactly was speaking and quickly stiffened throwing out a formal salute of respect. “Oh, don't worry about that. Just take care of these.” he motioned to the mess, and then too the cameras. “They seemed to have been damaged during the attack get them fixed as soon as possible and double the guards.” His tone quickly mimicking something close to authority. The guard didn't seem to mind as he took off without saying a word to gather more guards for the rest of the nights watch. With that done Marrok made his way back up the streets towards the castle annoyed more so that he probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. The metallic taste of blood still clinging to the back of his throat. Reaching the Castle was going to be the easy part, but if he was going to find the intruder he was going to have to find a quite place to sit uninterrupted for a while in order to track the soulbound. With a sigh Marrok let his lips curl up into a grin signaling the start of his hunt.

[Genetic Genocide]

Name: A23 "Nightingale"
Age: Appears in his late twenties.
Race: Abomination(Werewolf)
DOB: Created on, 04/01

History: Summary: Marrok Vara Medical log "A23"; Subject Male. DNA Direwolf/Shifter/Creator. Created in attempt to fuse animal DNA to a human structure in order to further DNA augmentation for future soldiers. The initial test subjects A01-21, were all failures. Subject A22 was spliced with Dragon DNA with addition of Shifter to create a body more suitable for change. The subject died during first forced transition. Subject A23 was given some of my own DNA during the splicing process to hopefully create a more stable body that will hold up during transition. In turn his blood has somehow mutated to adapt to the DNA. A clear new strand of DNA was formed and the Subject seems resistant to degradation unlike the subjects before him. The spread of the altered blood through his body suggest possible contagion, safety measures must be taken when handling subject.
Powers / Technology:

Magical

Magic: Elemental/illusionary/seals.

Blood Magics: Fuels and strengthens Magic with Blood.

Pack Magic: Magic given by the altered blood that flows within the werewolf. It is it's own entity and is commonly referred to as the "Wolf". Pack magic allows werewolves to identify other wolves, or in rare cases even humans, and werewolves as members of their pack. This bond can be used to strengthen a werewolves transformation, calm him, or even restrain him if needed. Pack magic is primarily used for the transformation from human to wolf, but can also be used as a form of communication and call for help when needed.

Physical

Muscle Configuration: Due to the addition of the different DNA his muscles are built more like an animal than human even within his human form. Allowing him to be faster, Stronger, and more agile than a normal human when not transformed.

Werewolf form: This form has two different distinct forms, Beta and Alpha. The Beta form is most commonly used form where only particular features change allowing for a balanced meld between their "Wolf" and human. Alpha Form is when the Werewolf give themselves completely over to their "Wolf" and changes fully. They do not take the full form of a wolf, but takes on a longer nose, wolfish ears, fur, and even claws.

items

Various Magical artifacts and Weapons: Stolen items, found items, and such that hold magical potential or even store magical energy.

Picture: Link
Samples: Link me some samples of your past work.
Activity: How available are you on a regular basis?

[Genetic Genocide]

The night air breeze managed to cool the blood of the shadowed man whom now wandered deep within the forest. The dark cloak of night did well to hide his features as he made his way from tree to tree with the grace that was known only to the Elven people. This forest had been his home for many years now, and when someone decided to infiltrate it, the Forest Spirits had always let him know, but this time they had been completely silent. Why?, he thought to himself silently but he had already known the answer, “Soulbound” He managed to whisper almost breathlessly, his face contorting under the darkness of the trees as if the words left an undesired taste in their wake. Living peacefully meant to stay away from trouble, but this incursion smelled exactly that, Big Trouble. Usually he would find any way to stay as far away as possible, but Chaos always seemed but a heart's beat away from this shadowed man. Making his way towards the bridge his heightened sense of smell caught the smell of ash, and wet dog, before his eyes could pick up what was left of the carnage. The blood of the Hell hounds still lingered in the air, but the fresh scent of human blood redoubled the man's efforts and hurried him along. Icy blue eyes pierced the veil of night spotting the lone hell hound, barely breathing on the other side of the river, but in turn paid no mind to the slowly dying creature as he darted through the tree line and towards the Chevalier Kingdoms Gates.

Reaching the Gates, death filled the air and the man found himself cursing his heightened sense of smell for the first time in a long while as he looked over the bodies of both men. Both laid dead, efficiently slain within mere moments of each other. The shadowed man's white hair stood almost on end as he could feel the power slowly boiling deep within him, anger, just barely touching the surface. He was only a moment too late and being both men died instantly the attack could not be too far ahead. The guards gun and keys both gone. Though every instinct told him to stop everything and hunt down the attacker, he knew that he couldn't just leave the bodies where they were. Not on the night before the ball. Tapping into the vast amount of unused power within him the man touched his left hand to the bullet wound of the second guard allowing the icy blue eyes to turn a feint red before subsiding back to their natural color. Once his hand was removed the wound had closed and the body looked as it did before death. The bullet wound completely healed. The Shadowed Man now stood with the light of the moon illuminating his figure as if drawn to him by some supernatural phenomenon. Standing almost seven foot in height the man towered over most humans and even some Dragons as well, but what really stood out was the flawless pale-white skin that held a glowing undertone that was easily spotted in the night, yet blended in so perfectly when he wanted it too. White hair complemented his skin as it was held back by a single hairband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes. The man's features were sharp, his body toned, the body of an experienced fighter one would probably thing, but not the body of a physician. Marrok Vara, the second to those whom lived within the Kingdom for quite sometime, Healer of The Chevalier Kingdom or The Forest Hermit to wandering travelers looking for medical aid. Since his 'fathers' residency he hadn't lost a single patient to illness. Old age, being something harder to cure than broken bones or the flu, but he made them as comfortable as possible before their passing.

Allowing the metal armor to retract from his hands back into the bracelet that it extended from, Marrok focused his power into his hands allowing his finger nails to become blackened and sharp looking more like talons than nails at that point, while his mouth twisted as his canines grew in length. When that was done he set out ripping the throats of each man with his teeth and using his claws to mark the armor in various places that would match a normal Hellhound attack. Removing the gun that had been left on the shot-guard's belt. He fired four rounds into the trees in quick succession before leaving the pistol in the guards hand so to be discovered later. Before letting go of his power completely he cleaned the blood from his skin and clothing making sure there was no trace of it left on him before allowing his appearance to return back to normal. The metal gauntlets returned back to their rightful place once with a slight flick of the wrist in the right direction. The malleable metal armor was placed in various spots around his body, and then covered in what appeared to be leather padding that was sown into various pieces of clothing with intricate designs on each. The lightweight armor style was old, but still effective in today's world; not to mention easily repaired. He wore leather arm guards and then a leather tunic over his bare chest while the his pants were and off white leather that was surrounded with blackened fur from one of the Forest Deer's main. Lightweight armor leggings covered over the fur from the bottom of his thighs downward. There were no weapons to be seen, except for the chain that was wrapped around his waist and covered with a silk scarf that was tied up like belt. Over the leather chest piece a metal plate was chained in order to provide extra protection to his heart. The armor was both battle worthy and formal at the same time. The intricate designs predating that of the War, but the metal pieces newer and sturdier than anything from that time.

Allowing himself to tap back into the well of power within him he unlocked the gate from the outside, before relaxing and taking in a deep breath in order to complete the next part of his plan. “GUARDS COME QUICK!” He yelled in a frightened tone, one that almost perfectly mimiced fear. A staunch man appeared from the guard house next to the gate rather quickly looking alert and angered by the sudden yelling of the man. Marrok managed to choke down a grin as he continued to spin the lie. “The guards outside.” he paused breathing in heavily as if he had run miles to get here. “Attacked . . . Hellhounds.” At the last word the guard perked up and raced outside the gate only to find the mauled bodies. Marrok causally followed the guard back and managed a cringe at the sight of the bodies secretly admiring his handiwork. “The hellhounds got away. They took the first guards gun, and the keys after I frantically threw after I unlocked the gate.” Marrok's noted his tone returning back to normal. The guard turned, about to speak until he recognized whom exactly was speaking and quickly stiffened throwing out a formal salute of respect. “Oh, don't worry about that. Just take care of these.” he motioned to the mess, and then too the cameras. “They seemed to have been damaged during the attack get them fixed as soon as possible and double the guards.” His tone quickly mimicking something close to authority. The guard didn't seem to mind as he took off without saying a word to gather more guards for the rest of the nights watch. With that done Marrok made his way back up the streets towards the castle annoyed more so that he probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. The metallic taste of blood still clinging to the back of his throat. Reaching the Castle was going to be the easy part, but if he was going to find the intruder he was going to have to find a quite place to sit uninterrupted for a while in order to track the soulbound. With a sigh Marrok let his lips curl up into a grin signaling the start of his hunt.

[Genetic Genocide]

Short Hair guy.

Long Hair guy.

HEY
HEY
HEY

[Genetic Genocide]

The night air breeze managed to cool the blood of the shadowed man whom now wandered deep within the forest. The dark cloak of night did well to hide his features as he made his way from tree to tree with the grace that was known only to the Elven people. This forest had been his home for many years now, and when someone decided to infiltrate it, the Forest Spirits had always let him know, but this time they had been completely silent. Why?, he thought to himself silently but he had already known the answer, “Soulbound” He managed to whisper almost breathlessly, his face contorting under the darkness of the trees as if the words left an undesired taste in their wake. Living peacefully meant to stay away from trouble, but this incursion smelled exactly that, Big Trouble. Usually he would find any way to stay as far away as possible, but Chaos always seemed but a heart's beat away from this shadowed man. Making his way towards the bridge his heightened sense of smell caught the smell of ash, and wet dog, before his eyes could pick up what was left of the carnage. The blood of the Hell hounds still lingered in the air, but the fresh scent of human blood redoubled the man's efforts and hurried him along. Icy blue eyes pierced the veil of night spotting the lone hell hound, barely breathing on the other side of the river, but in turn paid no mind to the slowly dying creature as he darted through the tree line and towards the Chevalier Kingdoms Gates.

Reaching the Gates, death filled the air and the man found himself cursing his heightened sense of smell for the first time in a long while as he looked over the bodies of both men. Both laid dead, efficiently slain within mere moments of each other. The shadowed man's white hair stood almost on end as he could feel the power slowly boiling deep within him, anger, just barely touching the surface. He was only a moment too late and being both men died instantly the attack could not be too far ahead. The guards gun and keys both gone. Though every instinct told him to stop everything and hunt down the attacker, he knew that he couldn't just leave the bodies where they were. Not on the night before the ball. Tapping into the vast amount of unused power within him the man touched his left hand to the bullet wound of the second guard allowing the icy blue eyes to turn a feint red before subsiding back to their natural color. Once his hand was removed the wound had closed and the body looked as it did before death. The bullet wound completely healed. The Shadowed Man now stood with the light of the moon illuminating his figure as if drawn to him by some supernatural phenomenon. Standing almost seven foot in height the man towered over most humans and even some Dragons as well, but what really stood out was the flawless pale-white skin that held a glowing undertone that was easily spotted in the night, yet blended in so perfectly when he wanted it too. White hair complemented his skin as it was held back by a single hairband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes. The man's features were sharp, his body toned, the body of an experienced fighter one would probably thing, but not the body of a physician. Marrok Vara, the second to those whom lived within the Kingdom for quite sometime, Healer of The Chevalier Kingdom or The Forest Hermit to wandering travelers looking for medical aid. Since his 'fathers' residency he hadn't lost a single patient to illness. Old age, being something harder to cure than broken bones or the flu, but he made them as comfortable as possible before their passing.

Allowing the metal armor to retract from his hands back into the bracelet that it extended from, Marrok focused his power into his hands allowing his finger nails to become blackened and sharp looking more like talons than nails at that point, while his mouth twisted as his canines grew in length. When that was done he set out ripping the throats of each man with his teeth and using his claws to mark the armor in various places that would match a normal Hellhound attack. Removing the gun that had been left on the shot-guard's belt. He fired four rounds into the trees in quick succession before leaving the pistol in the guards hand so to be discovered later. Before letting go of his power completely he cleaned the blood from his skin and clothing making sure there was no trace of it left on him before allowing his appearance to return back to normal. The metal gauntlets returned back to their rightful place once with a slight flick of the wrist in the right direction. The malleable metal armor was placed in various spots around his body, and then covered in what appeared to be leather padding that was sown into various pieces of clothing with intricate designs on each. The lightweight armor style was old, but still effective in today's world; not to mention easily repaired. He wore leather arm guards and then a leather tunic over his bare chest while the his pants were and off white leather that was surrounded with blackened fur from one of the Forest Deer's main. Lightweight armor leggings covered over the fur from the bottom of his thighs downward. There were no weapons to be seen, except for the chain that was wrapped around his waist and covered with a silk scarf that was tied up like belt. Over the leather chest piece a metal plate was chained in order to provide extra protection to his heart. The armor was both battle worthy and formal at the same time. The intricate designs predating that of the War, but the metal pieces newer and sturdier than anything from that time.

Allowing himself to tap back into the well of power within him he unlocked the gate from the outside, before relaxing and taking in a deep breath in order to complete the next part of his plan. “GUARDS COME QUICK!” He yelled in a frightened tone, one that almost perfectly mimiced fear. A staunch man appeared from the guard house next to the gate rather quickly looking alert and angered by the sudden yelling of the man. Marrok managed to choke down a grin as he continued to spin the lie. “The guards outside.” he paused breathing in heavily as if he had run miles to get here. “Attacked . . . Hellhounds.” At the last word the guard perked up and raced outside the gate only to find the mauled bodies. Marrok causally followed the guard back and managed a cringe at the sight of the bodies secretly admiring his handiwork. “The hellhounds got away. They took the first guards gun, and the keys after I frantically threw after I unlocked the gate.” Marrok's noted his tone returning back to normal. The guard turned, about to speak until he recognized whom exactly was speaking and quickly stiffened throwing out a formal salute of respect. “Oh, don't worry about that. Just take care of these.” he motioned to the mess, and then too the cameras. “They seemed to have been damaged during the attack get them fixed as soon as possible and double the guards.” His tone quickly mimicking something close to authority. The guard didn't seem to mind as he took off without saying a word to gather more guards for the rest of the nights watch. With that done Marrok made his way back up the streets towards the castle annoyed more so that he probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. The metallic taste of blood still clinging to the back of his throat. Reaching the Castle was going to be the easy part, but if he was going to find the intruder he was going to have to find a quite place to sit uninterrupted for a while in order to track the soulbound. With a sigh Marrok let his lips curl up into a grin signaling the start of his hunt.

[Genetic Genocide]

The night air breeze managed to cool the blood of the shadowed man whom now wandered deep within the forest. The dark cloak of night did well to hide his features as he made his way from tree to tree with the grace that was known only to the Elven people. This forest had been his home for many years now, and when someone decided to infiltrate it, the Forest Spirits had always let him know, but this time they had been completely silent. Why?, he thought to himself silently but he had already known the answer, “Soulbound” He managed to whisper almost breathlessly, his face contorting under the darkness of the trees as if the words left an undesired taste in their wake. Living peacefully meant to stay away from trouble, but this incursion smelled exactly that, Big Trouble. Usually he would find any way to stay as far away as possible, but Chaos always seemed but a heart's beat away from this shadowed man. Making his way towards the bridge his heightened sense of smell caught the smell of ash, and wet dog, before his eyes could pick up what was left of the carnage. The blood of the Hell hounds still lingered in the air, but the fresh scent of human blood redoubled the man's efforts and hurried him along. Icy blue eyes pierced the veil of night spotting the lone hell hound, barely breathing on the other side of the river, but in turn paid no mind to the slowly dying creature as he darted through the tree line and towards the Chevalier Kingdoms Gates.

Reaching the Gates, death filled the air and the man found himself cursing his heightened sense of smell for the first time in a long while as he looked over the bodies of both men. Both laid dead, efficiently slain within mere moments of each other. The shadowed man's white hair stood almost on end as he could feel the power slowly boiling deep within him, anger, just barely touching the surface. He was only a moment too late and being both men died instantly the attack could not be too far ahead. The guards gun and keys both gone. Though every instinct told him to stop everything and hunt down the attacker, he knew that he couldn't just leave the bodies where they were. Not on the night before the ball. Tapping into the vast amount of unused power within him the man touched his left hand to the bullet wound of the second guard allowing the icy blue eyes to turn a feint red before subsiding back to their natural color. Once his hand was removed the wound had closed and the body looked as it did before death. The bullet wound completely healed. The Shadowed Man now stood with the light of the moon illuminating his figure as if drawn to him by some supernatural phenomenon. Standing almost seven foot in height the man towered over most humans and even some Dragons as well, but what really stood out was the flawless pale-white skin that held a glowing undertone that was easily spotted in the night, yet blended in so perfectly when he wanted it too. White hair complemented his skin as it was held back by a single hairband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes. The man's features were sharp, his body toned, the body of an experienced fighter one would probably thing, but not the body of a physician. Marrok Vara, the second to those whom lived within the Kingdom for quite sometime, Healer of The Chevalier Kingdom or The Forest Hermit to wandering travelers looking for medical aid. Since his 'fathers' residency he hadn't lost a single patient to illness. Old age, being something harder to cure than broken bones or the flu, but he made them as comfortable as possible before their passing.

Allowing the metal armor to retract from his hands back into the bracelet that it extended from, Marrok focused his power into his hands allowing his finger nails to become blackened and sharp looking more like talons than nails at that point, while his mouth twisted as his canines grew in length. When that was done he set out ripping the throats of each man with his teeth and using his claws to mark the armor in various places that would match a normal Hellhound attack. Removing the gun that had been left on the shot-guard's belt. He fired four rounds into the trees in quick succession before leaving the pistol in the guards hand so to be discovered later. Before letting go of his power completely he cleaned the blood from his skin and clothing making sure there was no trace of it left on him before allowing his appearance to return back to normal. The metal gauntlets returned back to their rightful place once with a slight flick of the wrist in the right direction. The malleable metal armor was placed in various spots around his body, and then covered in what appeared to be leather padding that was sown into various pieces of clothing with intricate designs on each. The lightweight armor style was old, but still effective in today's world; not to mention easily repaired. He wore leather arm guards and then a leather tunic over his bare chest while the his pants were and off white leather that was surrounded with blackened fur from one of the Forest Deer's main. Lightweight armor leggings covered over the fur from the bottom of his thighs downward. There were no weapons to be seen, except for the chain that was wrapped around his waist and covered with a silk scarf that was tied up like belt. Over the leather chest piece a metal plate was chained in order to provide extra protection to his heart. The armor was both battle worthy and formal at the same time. The intricate designs predating that of the War, but the metal pieces newer and sturdier than anything from that time.

Allowing himself to tap back into the well of power within him he unlocked the gate from the outside, before relaxing and taking in a deep breath in order to complete the next part of his plan. “GUARDS COME QUICK!” He yelled in a frightened tone, one that almost perfectly mimiced fear. A staunch man appeared from the guard house next to the gate rather quickly looking alert and angered by the sudden yelling of the man. Marrok managed to choke down a grin as he continued to spin the lie. “The guards outside.” he paused breathing in heavily as if he had run miles to get here. “Attacked . . . Hellhounds.” At the last word the guard perked up and raced outside the gate only to find the mauled bodies. Marrok causally followed the guard back and managed a cringe at the sight of the bodies secretly admiring his handiwork. “The hellhounds got away. They took the first guards gun, and the keys after I frantically threw after I unlocked the gate.” Marrok's noted his tone returning back to normal. The guard turned, about to speak until he recognized whom exactly was speaking and quickly stiffened throwing out a formal salute of respect. “Oh, don't worry about that. Just take care of these.” he motioned to the mess, and then too the cameras. “They seemed to have been damaged during the attack get them fixed as soon as possible and double the guards.” His tone quickly mimicking something close to authority. The guard didn't seem to mind as he took off without saying a word to gather more guards for the rest of the nights watch. With that done Marrok made his way back up the streets towards the castle annoyed more so that he probably wasn't going to get much sleep tonight. The metallic taste of blood still clinging to the back of his throat. Reaching the Castle was going to be the easy part, but if he was going to find the intruder he was going to have to find a quite place to sit uninterrupted for a while in order to track the soulbound. With a sigh Marrok let his lips curl up into a grin signaling the start of his hunt.




» Health: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ » Over Shield: ██████████ » location: Town of Beginnings » party: Loxley » inventory: here

[Genetic Genocide]

The attackers had the square locked off. Innocent bystanders at all sides surrounding the fight as if it was a spectator sport; to them, at least, it might just be. Xane eyed each enemy with eagle like perception that his stigma empowered him with. It was easy to discern the attack pattern at that point. Glancing towards the girl it seemed that two had broken off to continue the chase, but the rest had Xane locked in their sights. “I don't suppose you guys will just take your friend here and leave?” Frustration seeped from his voice, 'At this rate, I'll never get my afternoon nap.' his head hung slightly lower at the horrible thought. Xane's sulking came to an abrupt halt as the rest of the attackers began to move. The first attacker came head on, broadsword at the ready to cut Xane clean down the middle, a simple side step back and to the right avoided the attack rather cleanly with the added benefit of leaving the attacker off balance. Quickly, in a low broad swing, Xane used his still sheathed katana to slam against the back of the attackers knee causing him to fall face first in the middle of the bazaar. “You should really watch where you step, you could break something.” He quipped before launching a swift kick to the man's temple with his left boot. His body moved as a foreign object entered the bio-electricity field that surrounded his body; a knife was sent to strike him. Stepping back he used the, sheathed, katana to block the knife from continuing on towards the crowd and sending up in the air. His right hand moved almost in a blur grasping the handle of the thrown knife before it moved out of his range. When the attackers thought Xane was distracted by the knife they moved. Two at once; moving in almost in perfect synchronous they swerved back and forth in front and behind each other each with a medium blade in the opposite hands. Xane eye'd the attacked with amusement before allowing his shoulder tattoo to glow. The tattoo glowed red and Xane slammed the butt of his sheath into the ground planting the katana firmly in the earth before he disappeared from sight only to reappear once again behind the second attacker. The attackers, an obvious psychic-linked pair, turned at the sudden disturbance, but Xane ducked the first back hand knife strike by the second attacker and used the thrown knife to pin the enemy's right foot into the ground. The first attacker didn't hesitate as he executed the same attack that his friend has made only on the opposite side but simply stepping more outwards and aiming lower with the knife as to miss his friend and strike Xane in the face. Side stepping to the right and spinning out Xane dodged the strike and effectively moved out of range of the second attacker. Taking the spin a full three-sixty he swiftly kicked the first attackers knife hand causing the blade to become firmly planted into the second attacker's thigh. The downside to being linked psychically is that the two would share everything, even pain. A swift left hook to the second attacker's jaw effectively pushing the pair past their thresh hold of shared pain and knocking both of them out. That only left two more. The last two attackers were the most skilled of the group; every large ambush had at least two skilled members with the most experience that stayed in the back to adapt and develop a stratagem, only joining the fray if the plan had failed. In this case the plan had been obliterated before it was ever allowed to reach fruition. Xane had taken note of each attacker's weapons, and physical abilities while on the roof and noted that only the thief and assassin where left. More than likely hidden in the crowed again.

Xane took the moment to observe the predicament that his charge had gotten herself into. She had both assailants caught in a glass leg trap. This would have been a good time to assess her actual power, but it seemed that all the reports he received were correct. She was hesitant to inflict harm on others; in this regard she seemed to still hold the mindset of a child. Xane didn't have the time to make any disapproving remarks as it seemed the assassin made himself known. The arrow was launched from within crowd on the opposite side of Xane; there was no time to reach the man before the arrow was fired, and this time Xane was not in the cross hairs. There was a feint flash of red before Xane vanished from sight. If slowed down it would seem all one fluid motion, two simple steps. The first to grab the hilt of his katana pulling the sheath from the earth, and the second second bending down to wrap his left arm around the girls waist. “Hold your breath.” He waited for a few seconds to allow her to heed his warning before the world would seemed to simply bend around them. The universe itself would look as if it was held still as they moved, everything only flashes, images, of what they really were. What would normally take hours, only took seconds.

Then it all came to an abrupt stop in the meadows outside the city. If she had held her breath the lurching feeling from coming to the abrupt halt wouldn't be as bad, but usually those whom are new to the experience, hurled. Xane let go of her waist and stumbled forward discarding his weapon before propping himself up against the large oak tree in the middle of the meadow. As his body slowly slid towards the ground satin stained the oak's bark above him leaving an eerie blood trail down the the tree. Besides from the dark onyx shaft the arrow itself was pretty plain, and would be easily removed. The real problem wasn't the arrow but the the poison that laced the tip had made it into his blood stream already; the poison was hand crafted by a master and would have killed any lesser man within seconds. It moved through his veins causing them to contract and rub together as if they were sandpaper. The pain, almost unbearable. The arrow has penetrated through the shoulder blade and out the front just below his collar bone indicating that the bow that was used was quite powerful. He winced slightly as he shifted trying to find a comfortable position before speaking. “What a lousy shot. Assassin's these days.” He noted stifling a chuckle before it caused more pain. Carefully and with a sense of urgency Xane removed the red Gi that covered his chest and discarded it off to the side. His eyes slowly closed and his body limp. Within seconds the a deep crimson glow erupted from the black ink covering most of his upper body. The ferocity in which it glowed, waning every few seconds in the midday sun, almost made it seem as if the power that dwelled inside of him was alive; in a sense it wouldn't be wrong. The large scars that riddled his chest were now visible. Thousands of marks marred his chest some seemingly small non-leathal wounds while others, such as the large scar that ran down the left side of his breast where his heart would be seemed rather deadly. This obviously not being his first brush with death. His body became warm to the touch as his metabolism sped up to in order to remove the toxin from his system at an accelerated rate. Though it would still take a few hours for it to be totally expelled from his system, but anything life-threatening had now been adverted. Once the toxin had been expelled he could focus his energy into recovery easy enough but until then he would be best not exerting himself.

The meadow was on a slight hill that over looked the merchant city, only about a two hour walk. Xane opened his eyes revealing the change in color that had taken place as the first seal of his power broke. The once crimson eyes now silver in color. Along with the change in color of his eyes his features grew slightly sharper, but his hair much long. Along with everything years seemed to drop from his face as if somehow younger. The power he had taken back in Onna had finally served it's purpose. Sealing away power was the easy part, but in order to release it greater power is needed; so Xane cannibalized the power in order to jump start his own. The Bleeding from his wound had already been stopped, but until the poison was gone from his system the arrow would have to stay.

[Dead Mans Bell]

Rays of light illuminated the sterile white flooring within the large condo. Automated blinds throughout the building followed the rising sun as the early morning light shined upon the Techniverse. The condo was sparsely decorated adding to the empty aura it so furiously put off. The only signs of life existed within the walls resided in the master bedroom that only contained a single bed in the middle of the floor. As the light crept its way across the floor towards the bed a single red, menacing, figure appeared over the sleeping man beneath the sheets. As if a ghost the figure didn't move, but as the light changed the figure seemed to change as well – obviously a projection, a hologram of a woman. The hologram didn't utter a single word, but simply watched over the body with solemn eyes. As the light reached the bottom of the bed the man stirred, but only slightly. Eyes opened, and pupils adjusted to the amount of light within the room allowing a clearer picture to be formed. Tossing the covers to one side the man stepped from the bed – ignoring the hologram – and made his way towards the windows on the far side of the room, the light passing over his naked body illuminating the torture of his past each defining a different moment of his life. Even heavily scared the man walked with pride in each step, posture impeccable, as if cut from the cloth of royalty itself. The scars that marred the pale body traveled from his feet upwards past his thighs and most of his chest all fatal in apperance; especially the larger ones where his heart would be, and along the inner thighs following the femoral artery. A single crossed scar existed on the right side of his neck across the carotid, but none existed past that, nor past the elbows of his arms with exception of his right arm. Each could tell a story and as if tattooed upon his skin flowing like art. The same – shamefully – could not be said for his right hand, as halfway up the forearm a jagged circular scar made it's way around the entire circumference of his skin marking the spot where his arm was clearly hacked off very crudely. Though the skin that sat upon the fully functioning metal prosthetic seemed real to the touch and even taste it was surely fake as was a good portion of the man's body. Silver crystalline eyes watched the horizon as the sun crept up the sky and shined upon the Tech allowing him to imagine that all it's inhabitants might burn from the heat. The mere thought brought a crooked smile upon the man's face that could only slightly be made out from behind pure white hair. His features could only be described as sharp and menacing, and displayed almost no emotion as he watch the sun slowly move. The red projection appeared once again this time the woman-figure seemed to be sitting upon his shoulder legs crossed ever so dignified. Her lips moved, but a single word audible, but the man nodded his head in a sense of understanding.

'“Humanity. It's like a disease. You've got the beauty on one side, like this white flower in my right hand. Pure and untouched by the sin of the world. But then you have the ugly on another, like this knife. You see the pure metals bent by malicious intent made only to cause others harm. Sure, the knife could be used for other things, but in the end its sharp point will always be turned on another. You... Father, are the ugly. Sadly, I can't say I've escaped your fate.” The man spoke eloquently but his silver eyes were almost empty, as the knife point touched the flesh of his father's neck. Kneeling down and dressed fully in black all that could really be seen from his fathers position – pressed back against one of the lab tables – was that of his sons silver eyes, white hair, and pale skin. As if the reaper himself had come to lay claim to his life. “Xane... Why?” but the older man's question was only met with laughter. “Why you ask, father?” Xane noted making it a point to restate the question slowly before standing and turning his back to the man whom he had just saved from dying of poison only seconds before. “Because you are a horrible man, and I am but a weapon of this world forged by your ignorance and malice...'

Xane stepped away from the widow leaving the light as he moved in to the large walk in closet of the master bedroom. The closet was filled with expensive tailored suits and only a small shelf of normal everyday clothing; along with an assortment of black ties, suspenders, and belts. As he started to dress himself the hologram appeared once again, this time sitting upon one of the shelves within the closet. Though others could see her no one could hear her, unless she wanted them too at least. The color today seemed to be gray as he continued to don a pair of light gray, fitted, suit pants accompanied by a black of pair of suit shoes. A tanned leather belt, white suit shirt, black tie, and matching light gray suit vest came shortly after. Tucking in the white shirt, buckling his belt, and throwing on a leather shoulder harness holding a black karambit knife and three extra heat-sink clips for his weapon was all one smooth practiced motion. Something that had been done day in and day out as if since birth. The last piece of his attire was a fitted light gray coat. Moving into the Bathroom Xane started the final part of his morning ritual, fixing his hair. The one defining factor that set him apart from his father from birth was his hair, and so he always made it a point to keep it long and rebellious. Xane pulled his white locks back into a ponytail revealing the shaven sides and back. A single braided strand on his right side was left hanging as it held a few decorative beads, in an assortment of colors, and his fathers family ring at the bottom that had been passed down from sometime before the great war. Once he was finished Xane took a moment to stare at the mirror, but he still couldn't recognize the man he had become, and so closed his eyes slowly and began to picture the world inside his mind.

'Opening his eyes as slowly as he closed them the world around him had turned black, nothing in sight for miles. “Valkyrie, Report.” Xane ordered in the business-as-usual tone. It wasn't long before Valkyrie appeared – The red hologram from before – clad in white. The feminine figure wore a simple white dress and heels that matched her white hair. Against the black back-drop you could say her darkened tan skin was almost glowing. Pale-red eyes watched Xane as he blankly stared back, not at all started by the sudden appearance. The woman held a remarkable resemblance to his younger sister, but with her own set of personal touches. “Miss Jaeger and Mr. Renvy interrogations are over, It appears Miss Jaeger spent the night at Mr. Jinchu's place. All night.” She noted giving a slight cough before continuing. “Mr. Locklsey has already gone over the reports, and I believe is currently talking with Miss Everrett. His personality seemed to be slightly conflicted though. He would be a valuable asset. Jek hasn't reported in on his side yet. The disturbance from the other night more than likely caused quite the commotion. It'll be a while before we hear from him.” Xane nodded contemplating his next moves. “Alright. Send Jonathan the coordinates to the old lab on the fringes of the Borderlands It's time he gets his hands on some of the truth. Take all the necessary precautions. Get me in a room with Mr. Renvy as soon as possible, no rush. Wake up all the other contacts and get them to clean up the mess down in the underground and report any findings. Warn Kaelyn I'll be down coming down personally later today. We're close, Val. Check.” The AI smiled eerily at the thought. “Mate, sir.” a wolfish grin swept across Xane's face at her words and he closed his eyes once again, allowing the virtual world to disappear.

Xane opened his eyes to be greeted once again by his own visage – the same wolfish smile staring him down – within the mirror before he turned and walked out of the bathroom. As he made his way into the parlor from the bedroom he continued into the living room where the elevator that would take him down to the lobby would soon be waiting for him. Pressing the button upon the side Xane used the spare time to retrieve the silver pocket-watch from atop the stand next to elevator and grasped his cane within his right hand. When the doors opened and he stepped in he turned a full one-eighty upon his heels catching a short glimpse of his condo before the doors closed. As the elevator dropped towards the lobby he thought over what had had been done, and then what must be done; his sister had just spent the night with a rather seditious fellow, all the while her boyfriend was going through interrogation. Oh, how that was going to sting. A encrypted message was sent to Jonathan Locksley that could only be seen by his eyes, any unwanted on-lookers would only see what looked to be spam from one of the various science magazine that scattered his office. Though if the good Mr. Locksley looked upon it he would see coordinates, and should he follow those particular coordinates they would lead straight to the lab where Xane's fathers body rested. The same very lab Xane was born in, and some of the first Superhuman testing had taken place. The message was signed at the very bottom by a man select few in the Techniverse knew existed, The Wolf. Hopefully Kaelyn would be able to get free, and respond to his notice. Then there was Travis, mix feelings welled up inside Xane about Travis. His file had been marked as couple, with his sister, but should he give him a chance to escape? Would he be of use. He would have to decide after having a chat with the young man. The ding of the elevator reached his ears ending the sporadic line of thinking as it meant that he had now arrived in the lobby. “Time to get into character.” He thought to himself as walked forward, this time portraying a limp with his right leg rather perfectly, even using the cane to fully sell the injury to all whom looked upon him. As far as anyone knew he had been injured in a fight shortly after the DASHR break out that left his right leg somewhat useless. “Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. And where am I taking you today?” He smile at the driver kindly before responding as he did every morning. “Well Dave, I think I'll be paying Dr. Locksley a visit this morning, if you will.”

'… That is why father.” When Xane had turned his back his father stood, and reached out for his son in one last attempt to plea for his life, but there was no hesitation upon Xane's lips, nor his hand as his body turned sharply around – knife in hand – aiming perfectly for his fathers throat. Blood stained the near by equipment and walls, but pooled upon the floor in excess once the body had hit the floor with a rather loud 'thud'. It was at that very moment the beast had been awoken, and at the very second it chose to bear it's fangs. World beware.'

[Genetic Genocide]

Rays of light illuminated the sterile white flooring within the large condo. Automated blinds throughout the building followed the rising sun as the early morning light shined upon the Techniverse. The condo was sparsely decorated adding to the empty aura it so furiously put off. The only signs of life existed within the walls resided in the master bedroom that only contained a single bed in the middle of the floor. As the light crept its way across the floor towards the bed a single red, menacing, figure appeared over the sleeping man beneath the sheets. As if a ghost the figure didn't move, but as the light changed the figure seemed to change as well – obviously a projection, a hologram of a woman. The hologram didn't utter a single word, but simply watched over the body with solemn eyes. As the light reached the bottom of the bed the man stirred, but only slightly. Eyes opened, and pupils adjusted to the amount of light within the room allowing a clearer picture to be formed. Tossing the covers to one side the man stepped from the bed – ignoring the hologram – and made his way towards the windows on the far side of the room, the light passing over his naked body illuminating the torture of his past each defining a different moment of his life. Even heavily scared the man walked with pride in each step, posture impeccable, as if cut from the cloth of royalty itself. The scars that marred the pale body traveled from his feet upwards past his thighs and most of his chest all fatal in apperance; especially the larger ones where his heart would be, and along the inner thighs following the femoral artery. A single crossed scar existed on the right side of his neck across the carotid, but none existed past that, nor past the elbows of his arms with exception of his right arm. Each could tell a story and as if tattooed upon his skin flowing like art. The same – shamefully – could not be said for his right hand, as halfway up the forearm a jagged circular scar made it's way around the entire circumference of his skin marking the spot where his arm was clearly hacked off very crudely. Though the skin that sat upon the fully functioning metal prosthetic seemed real to the touch and even taste it was surely fake as was a good portion of the man's body. Silver crystalline eyes watched the horizon as the sun crept up the sky and shined upon the Tech allowing him to imagine that all it's inhabitants might burn from the heat. The mere thought brought a crooked smile upon the man's face that could only slightly be made out from behind pure white hair. His features could only be described as sharp and menacing, and displayed almost no emotion as he watch the sun slowly move. The red projection appeared once again this time the woman-figure seemed to be sitting upon his shoulder legs crossed ever so dignified. Her lips moved, but a single word audible, but the man nodded his head in a sense of understanding.

'“Humanity. It's like a disease. You've got the beauty on one side, like this white flower in my right hand. Pure and untouched by the sin of the world. But then you have the ugly on another, like this knife. You see the pure metals bent by malicious intent made only to cause others harm. Sure, the knife could be used for other things, but in the end its sharp point will always be turned on another. You... Father, are the ugly. Sadly, I can't say I've escaped your fate.” The man spoke eloquently but his silver eyes were almost empty, as the knife point touched the flesh of his father's neck. Kneeling down and dressed fully in black all that could really be seen from his fathers position – pressed back against one of the lab tables – was that of his sons silver eyes, white hair, and pale skin. As if the reaper himself had come to lay claim to his life. “Xane... Why?” but the older man's question was only met with laughter. “Why you ask, father?” Xane noted making it a point to restate the question slowly before standing and turning his back to the man whom he had just saved from dying of poison only seconds before. “Because you are a horrible man, and I am but a weapon of this world forged by your ignorance and malice...'

Xane stepped away from the widow leaving the light as he moved in to the large walk in closet of the master bedroom. The closet was filled with expensive tailored suits and only a small shelf of normal everyday clothing; along with an assortment of black ties, suspenders, and belts. As he started to dress himself the hologram appeared once again, this time sitting upon one of the shelves within the closet. Though others could see her no one could hear her, unless she wanted them too at least. The color today seemed to be gray as he continued to don a pair of light gray, fitted, suit pants accompanied by a black of pair of suit shoes. A tanned leather belt, white suit shirt, black tie, and matching light gray suit vest came shortly after. Tucking in the white shirt, buckling his belt, and throwing on a leather shoulder harness holding a black karambit knife and three extra heat-sink clips for his weapon was all one smooth practiced motion. Something that had been done day in and day out as if since birth. The last piece of his attire was a fitted light gray coat. Moving into the Bathroom Xane started the final part of his morning ritual, fixing his hair. The one defining factor that set him apart from his father from birth was his hair, and so he always made it a point to keep it long and rebellious. Xane pulled his white locks back into a ponytail revealing the shaven sides and back. A single braided strand on his right side was left hanging as it held a few decorative beads, in an assortment of colors, and his fathers family ring at the bottom that had been passed down from sometime before the great war. Once he was finished Xane took a moment to stare at the mirror, but he still couldn't recognize the man he had become, and so closed his eyes slowly and began to picture the world inside his mind.

'Opening his eyes as slowly as he closed them the world around him had turned black, nothing in sight for miles. “Valkyrie, Report.” Xane ordered in the business-as-usual tone. It wasn't long before Valkyrie appeared – The red hologram from before – clad in white. The feminine figure wore a simple white dress and heels that matched her white hair. Against the black back-drop you could say her darkened tan skin was almost glowing. Pale-red eyes watched Xane as he blankly stared back, not at all started by the sudden appearance. The woman held a remarkable resemblance to his younger sister, but with her own set of personal touches. “Miss Jaeger and Mr. Renvy interrogations are over, It appears Miss Jaeger spent the night at Mr. Jinchu's place. All night.” She noted giving a slight cough before continuing. “Mr. Locklsey has already gone over the reports, and I believe is currently talking with Miss Everrett. His personality seemed to be slightly conflicted though. He would be a valuable asset. Jek hasn't reported in on his side yet. The disturbance from the other night more than likely caused quite the commotion. It'll be a while before we hear from him.” Xane nodded contemplating his next moves. “Alright. Send Jonathan the coordinates to the old lab on the fringes of the Borderlands It's time he gets his hands on some of the truth. Take all the necessary precautions. Get me in a room with Mr. Renvy as soon as possible, no rush. Wake up all the other contacts and get them to clean up the mess down in the underground and report any findings. Warn Kaelyn I'll be down coming down personally later today. We're close, Val. Check.” The AI smiled eerily at the thought. “Mate, sir.” a wolfish grin swept across Xane's face at her words and he closed his eyes once again, allowing the virtual world to disappear.

Xane opened his eyes to be greeted once again by his own visage – the same wolfish smile staring him down – within the mirror before he turned and walked out of the bathroom. As he made his way into the parlor from the bedroom he continued into the living room where the elevator that would take him down to the lobby would soon be waiting for him. Pressing the button upon the side Xane used the spare time to retrieve the silver pocket-watch from atop the stand next to elevator and grasped his cane within his right hand. When the doors opened and he stepped in he turned a full one-eighty upon his heels catching a short glimpse of his condo before the doors closed. As the elevator dropped towards the lobby he thought over what had had been done, and then what must be done; his sister had just spent the night with a rather seditious fellow, all the while her boyfriend was going through interrogation. Oh, how that was going to sting. A encrypted message was sent to Jonathan Locksley that could only be seen by his eyes, any unwanted on-lookers would only see what looked to be spam from one of the various science magazine that scattered his office. Though if the good Mr. Locksley looked upon it he would see coordinates, and should he follow those particular coordinates they would lead straight to the lab where Xane's fathers body rested. The same very lab Xane was born in, and some of the first Superhuman testing had taken place. The message was signed at the very bottom by a man select few in the Techniverse knew existed, The Wolf. Hopefully Kaelyn would be able to get free, and respond to his notice. Then there was Travis, mix feelings welled up inside Xane about Travis. His file had been marked as couple, with his sister, but should he give him a chance to escape? Would he be of use. He would have to decide after having a chat with the young man. The ding of the elevator reached his ears ending the sporadic line of thinking as it meant that he had now arrived in the lobby. “Time to get into character.” He thought to himself as walked forward, this time portraying a limp with his right leg rather perfectly, even using the cane to fully sell the injury to all whom looked upon him. As far as anyone knew he had been injured in a fight shortly after the DASHR break out that left his right leg somewhat useless. “Good morning, Mr. Jaeger. And where am I taking you today?” He smile at the driver kindly before responding as he did every morning. “Well Dave, I think I'll be paying Dr. Locksley a visit this morning, if you will.”

'… That is why father.” When Xane had turned his back his father stood, and reached out for his son in one last attempt to plea for his life, but there was no hesitation upon Xane's lips, nor his hand as his body turned sharply around – knife in hand – aiming perfectly for his fathers throat. Blood stained the near by equipment and walls, but pooled upon the floor in excess once the body had hit the floor with a rather loud 'thud'. It was at that very moment the beast had been awoken, and at the very second it chose to bear it's fangs. World beware.'