Whispers of Equality {Profile Thread}

[SicklyCargo]

Name: Pvt. Nathan McPherson
Nickname: Smiley, Jack Slash
Age: 24
Birthday: Nov. 3
Appearance: Nathan dresses in a black leather duster, well-worn but also well maintained, with a scarf covering his hideous “smile” and a pair of dark glasses to hide the dark bags under his eyes. His hair is nearly shaven on the sides but long on the top and front, hanging into his face. He is slender, and stand at 6’0.
Talents: Nathan spends most of his free time reading anything he can find, and thusly usually has a plethora of absolutely useless knowledge on hand at any given time. That aside, he is an excellent sneak and takes pride in his knife work, be it throwing them or tearing someone’s throat out with them. He's a decent shot, but much prefers stabbing someone.
Fears: Nathan has an overwhelming fear of order.
Occupation: Outlaw, Boogeyman, General Psychopath
View on Mutants: Nathan views mutants with a mixture of wary hatred that has nothing to do with their mutations, and envy. He wouldn’t mind being able to light things on fire with his mind…
Personality: Quick with a dirty joke or retort, but even quicker to gouge your eyes out with a pen. Nathan is psychotic and violent, and only barely manages to function in normal society due to rampant arrogance and general hatred of all living things.
*Background: The Legend of Jack Slash is something that London thugs tell each other to spook the younger kids back into line. They think it’s just a ghost story, but the few who know the truth behind the smiling killer of London do not dare joke about him, lest he return.
Nathan McPherson was born to a wealthy Irish politician and his concubine in a Dublin hospital. His birth ended an already unhappy marriage, but Nathaniel’s father blamed the young boy from day one: he was often starved and neglected, his mother being forced to sell herself to feed him. Nathaniel, not knowing any better, grew to hate his father for the abuse, and when his mother, the only person to ever show him kindness, was removed from the house after a heated debate over her profession, Nathaniel exposed the truth to his father’s political rivals. His father placed him into an orphanage at the age of six as his career tumbled down around him.
Once at the orphanage, life wasn’t much better, but at least he got a square meal each day. Nathan was bullied by most other children for his quiet nature and seclusion, but none were more brutal in their sport than Sarah Cornerly. She despised the small quiet boy with whom she had to share a room, and served as a rallying point for Nathan’s other bullies. Under her influence, they kicked, punched, bit, pushed Nathan. They broke what few toys he had been given by his mother. They left him shivering outside on cold winter nights.
Nathan was one day sitting outside of the orphanage after such an event. His fingers and toes had gone numb by this point, since the children had removed him without much more than his flannels, and he dimly became aware that today, on November the 3rd, he was turning ten. A major step in most children’s lives, but to him just another year. Slowly, he wandered out into the snow and lay in it. He had no more tears to cry for things like this. Besides they would have frozen on his face anyway. Maybe they would find him there in the morning, his body frozen solid, and he woulnd’t hurt anymore. As the snow swirled about his tiny form, a voice came to him.
“Kill her.”
He looked up, expecting to see someone, but he saw nothing. He supposed he was hearing voices in the howling winds.
“Kill her, Nathan.”
No, that time it was clear. He sat up, looking around. Still nothing, but he was certain he was not alone.
“Kill her, Nathan.”
“Make her hurt.”
“Make them pay.”
“Kill.”
“Kill.”
“Kill…” Nathan said, smiling.
That night, Nathan snuck back in through the window of the headmaster’s office. He stole the old man’s golden letter opener and, quiet as a mouse, crept into his old room. He smiled as he approached her. This was going to be fun.
When breakfast came, they found Nathan still laughing as he plunged the knife in and out of her chest, his little eyes wide with glee. Horrified, the headmaster called the authorities. Nathan cheerfully explained his new “game” as the officers prepared to take him to an asylum. The headmaster, a witness to his torture, intervened, and instead of spending an eternity locked in a padded cell, Nathan was sent to a convent in Belfast to learn to “Make peace with God.”
However, Nathan’s deeds preceded him. A nun, aware of the murder, informed the rest fo the clergy, and here too Nathan found himself shunned, though thankfully not bullied. He still heard the voices from time to time, but he generally laughed at what they said and continued about his day. Nathan was unaware that only he could hear these voices, and so was hurt when others called him names and refused to speak to him. All but one.
Jonathan professed no last name, but confessed to a violent altercation with his drunk father that landed him in a convent. The two knew each other all too well, their stories too similar to not be fate. They became brothers to each other, defenders of each other to the end. Here, the voice found a foothold in the mind of Nathan: it directed his vengeful hands towards Jonathan’s enemies. Two more murders Nathan committed, both made to look like accidents: Sam Cleary was found hanging from the ropes in the belfry, and Amanda Carthwell drowned while swimming under mysterious circumstances. The third was no accident. Jonathan had been shaved nearly bald by one of the nuns, and made to stand at the front of the assembly at lunch. Nathan caught wind of the deed, and the voices guided him once again to seek vengeance. While Sister Mary prostrated before the laughing children, Nathan, armed with a hammer, bashed her skull in from behind, and then brutalized her in a blind rage.
Children screamed, adults rushed to restrain Nathan, but were beaten off by his hammer, and Jonathan was in shock. The other nuns retreated, leaving Jonathan and Nathan alone with the bloodied corpse. Nathan sobbed angry tears into Jonathan’s chest, screaming that it wasn’t fair, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Jonathan, knowing what awaited the small child at the asylum he would surely be sent to, knelt down and embraced him as a brother, then stripped out of his winter coat and handed it to the young boy.
“It’s cold, Nathan. You’re going to need this. Now run.” He said, smiling softly. The words were not an order, but neither were they a request.
“Where?” Nathan asked.
“Anywhere. Just run. Trust no one.”
Nathan was silent for a long moment, then hugged Jonathan one last time before turning and fleeing out of the back, hopping the gate, and disappearing into the cold November air. It was Nathan’s 13th birthday.
What follows are the bloodiest events in the history of the London criminal underworld. Nathan boared a ferry to London and dispatched a pair of police officers with a kitchen knife and dumped their bodies overboard after robbing them. Now armed with a brace of pistols, a small sum of cash, and a ignited hatred for all living creatures, Nathan adopts the name Jack Slash and, in a brutal rampage, slaughters eight civilians of London and another police officer, stalking each victim at the willing of his voice and depriving himself of their deaths until they were truly terrified of him over the course of three years. He started a street gang of like-minded lunatics called “The Raving Ravens”, Accumulating another six kills personally and nearly thirty more by proxy before betraying them in order to escape arrest, burning down the house they were in and killing all witnesses involved. It was at this point Nathan’s hope in humans died as he witnessed the gang-rape of a prostitute by members of a local gang of thugs…while a bribed police officer nearby watched, doing nothing to interfere. Nathan does not remember how many fell before his blades and gun that day, but he does remember the pain he felt for that girl, and how he wept as he granted her a last wish and put her out of her misery. Enraged, the then 18-year old Jack Slash surrendered his will to the voice entirely, and started a new gang, The Cleaners. Nearly twenty murders of criminal heads, all violent, bloody and public, began to occur over the course of the next four years, in addition to a small precincts’ worth of police sergeants and officers. The Cleaners would always leave their mark, but Nathan’s kills were special: a gruesome smile carved into the faces of all of his victims. This mirrors an injury sustained by Nathan after his one and only failed attempt on another human’s life. A rival gang leader slashed his face open, and it was only through self-cauterization that Nathan survived. His next attempt was successful.
The Cleaners, however, were short-lived. Nathan realized that not only was gang becoming far more than he ever wanted it to become, but it was also attracting attention. Wannabe Jack Slashes were killing indiscriminately, and the police were determined to catch the mad-man. Nathan, in the knowledge that Jack Slash had to die, betrayed all seventeen surviving members of his crew by luring them into a police ambush and running as they were gunned down.
Adopting the name Sean Murray, Nathan joined the British Army as a rifleman. To him, it was the best cover story readily available: who would suspect the Irish soldier boy, fresh to the field, would be the infamous Jack Slash, with a mouth of razors and fingers of dancing blades? But such was the case. To Nathaniel’s credit, the ruse was successful for nearly two years, when Nathan joined at the tender age of 22. However, nothing lasts forever.
Nathan faced discrimination by British top brass, and during his two year tenure in the army he was given menial tasks and was often given the worst jobs possible. Never listed for active duty, It was during this period that he forcibly suppressed his voices, knowing that they…he must bide his time before his mission, whatever that was, could resume. Bad memories of his childhood came to the forefront as his squad mates all teased and ostracized him. In a bizarre parallel of childhood, none were so terrible of them than Grant Wells.
Grant Wells was a proud son of a wealthy British politician, and had the gumption to only get so far as his father’s station would get him. He was handsome, well-built, and had the attention of all of the most important people in the military, while Nathan was hideously scarred, skinny and was hated by most. When Wells’ promotion to major from lieutenant occurred, the first person that he bragged to was Sean, who had just been passed up for the promotion.
Nathan’s voices cried for him to slay the major, and Nathan responded with glee. Picking up a wooden chair, he smashed the gloating face that had plagued his dreams and waking hours with it, and kept smashing it until the screams stopped and became agonized gurgles. When his commanding officer entered the room in time to see, Nathan pinned him to the wall with a knife through his throat, then removed his head with a maddened roar. Nobody outside in the training yard was initially aware that Nathan had wandered out, an insane voice commanding him to kill back in full strength and malice and his commander’s severed head in his grip. Nobody noticed him as he raised a revolver and started firing blindly into the crowd of soldiers.
Nathan only managed to kill two men before he was captured. Tried in military court, the evidence against him was incontrovertible. To make matters worse, a clever London detective had pieced together the identity of Jack Slash, pinning Nathan with further reason to hang. Nathan knew he must escape or die, and even them, he must leave London.
Nathan overpowered his captors during transport and set about wiping out evidence. First, he burned down the detective’s home (with him in it), destroying any additional evidence. Second, a quick slashing of the judge’s throat at his manor home ensured that nobody would ever dare take the case again. Lastly, a quick series of arsons at the local police precinct to distract the cops as Nathan, his life’s possessions in his arms, snuck aboard an American steamer bound for New York.
Nathan pondered ling and hard his journey. The voices had gotten him into nothing but trouble, but they had also been instrumental in his survival. Was all of his killing, his blood shed, really his efforts? Had he been a puppet of his voices? Was he still? No, he decided as a breeze ruffled his hair. Slowly, he examined his coat. It had seen a lot of wear and tear since he had first been given it, but hours of patience with a sewing needle had kept it supple and comfortable. Nathan rolled his shoulders, feeling the fit. It was perfect.
Other: Nathan’s voices are surprisingly very helpful in a life-or-death situation. They tend to give him (in addition to a constant homicidal chatter) very enthusiastic advice on how to kill someone or on how to get by unnoticed. Perhaps a mutant ability? He also sleeps so little because of them that hallucinations are a common occurrence.
Theme Song: Smiling like a Killer, Motorhead

[Music Tenshi1]

Name
Willow Brooks
Nickname
Snow (because of her hair color)
Age
Twenty-Two
Birthday
January 1st
Appearance

Talents
Cooking: Willow has been learning to cook from a young age and excels in it, she is able to make the simplest and cheapest things taste delicious
Singing: Although she doesn't do this as a career Willow is quite a talented singer often singing with her mother as a child before going to sleep.
Gardening: Although it might not necessarily be considered a talent, Willow has a keen eye when it comes to arranging plants.
Fears
Death: although probably very common, Willow fears this more then anything, it is not so much a case of herself dying but watching someone else get killed in front of her
Occupation
Tavern cook
View on Mutants
Willow has always had a rather positive view on mutants as a pose to other people, this is because Willow's mother was a mutant herself and Willow's father taught her to be kind to all regardless of what they could do.
Personality
Kind/Caring: Willow is a kind girl willing to help another if they are in need of it, often giving reassurance to people when they are upset or troubled.
Curious: Willow has always had a curious nature, often asking questions as a child and has a desire to understand the world more and explore different areas.
Independent: Willow is a very capable person, she is able to take care of herself, and others when needed.
Background
Willow was born the daughter of a Human father and a Mutant mother, due to her mother being a mutant the family were considered a lower class family and her father ended up losing his high ranking job for being a 'traitor' as they would say, however he always said he never regretted his decision and that he was blessed to have a lovely wife and a beautiful daughter.

Willow's mother was a kind woman who got along with most of the people in the area (the majority of witch were Mutants) and despite not being a mutant herself, Willow didn't have much trouble when it came to fitting in with the kids in her area, her father got a job as a small time engineer to earn money for the family, while Willow outside of school learned cooking from her parents.

Despite the struggles for money and the prejudice views from most, Willow grew up a fairly happy life feeling blessed that she had two loving parents to take care of her until of course that faithful event that occurred when Willow had just turned sixteen. Uprising had happened before in other towns, but most were small and were settles quickly, never did anyone expect that an event like that would occur here. The mutant friends Willow had made had joined along with their parents, and while she was asked Willow's mother refused not wanting to put her family in harms way. For a while it did seem as though the mutants would win, but then the council took severe action.
By the end of it Willow had seen not only friends get killed but her own parents ended up in the crossfires, being mistaken for members of the uprising group.

After the events that night, Willow left her home town, the council helped her out a small bit giving her a small place to live while she finished school. After finishing school at 18 Willow studied cooking for two years before she moved to Highwater Creek and getting a job as a cook at the local tavern.
Other
Willow's mother was telekinetic meaning she could move objects with her mind should she wish.
Theme Song

[SicklyCargo]

Name: Fredrik Fenrisson
Nickname: Ragnarok
Age: 509 years old
Birthday: December 24
Appearance: Fredrik stands nearly seven feet tall; a living mountain of muscle with a flowing mane of silvery blonde hair and a beard strung with beads to match. Almost always wearing clothes of the simplest and most comfortable variety, Fredrik almost never is seen without his smithy's apron, even when he's eating or sleeping. Fredrik is also dotted with scars and strange tattoos.
Mutant Ability: Immortality. Fredrik is from a different era, a losy relic of an age past. Forever frozen at the age of twenty five, Fredrik does not age, and does not need to eat or sleep, though such he does such things out of habit anyway.
Control Level: His power is innate, as "turning it off" would kill him almost instantly.
Weaknesses: Fredrik's power does not make him immortal. Anything that could kill a man can kill Fredrik, though considering his stature and combat prowess, it's still a tricky proposition.
Talents: Though he hasn't had a chance to do anything truly amazing lately, Fredrik is a blacksmith of the highest skill. Fredrik is also a talented warrior, and is well-versed int he use of many weapons.
Fears: Fredrik fears that he will die a coward's death, a dishonorable death.
Occupation: Fredrik is the resident blacksmith of the town, which has suited him well since most of the townsfolk (In fact, all but one) are ignorant of his mutation and he is very good at his job.
Personality: Fredrik is not a kind man. He growls at anybody who comes too close to his anvil, and typically has a very short temper with almost everyone. He does, however, have a soft spot for children, and greets any who come to see him with a warm, weary smile and a thrilling tale of his ancestor, Wulgar the Red (In actuality, a telling of his own feats.)
*Background: Fredrik was born to Norse warriors who trained him from birth to follow in their footsteps. Fredrik's ferocity as he killed warrior after warrior who dared invade him homeland gave rise to a new fire in him. During the thirteenth century, when christian knights invaded the Norse lands en mass, Fredrik sent his prayer up to Odin and Thor and Tyr and Freya for safe return, and strode to war at the age of twenty five.
Fredrik does not remember the exact details of his battles, but history tells of a legendary warrior who, screaming the names of heathen gods, would lead suicidal charges on enemy encampments, sparing none but the sickly, the elderly, the pregnant women and children too young to stand. The christian invaders, fearful of this monster, came to adopt a Norse term for him: Ragnarok, A term meaning the Norse end of days. Fredrik killed many, but he was still only one man. Christianity marched on, and the Norse people faded from existence under the heel of Christian oppression.
Fredrik's heart filled with bitter rage as the years pressed on, and he swore that he would not rest until all the forces of Ragnarok itself were unleashed on the weak coward's god, Christ. For nearly three hundred years, he rampaged through Europe, until he arrived in the new world and disappeared into the wilderness, waiting for the day someone would show him how to end it all.
Other: Fredrik goes utterly berserk when pushed hard enough, attacking anything and everybody foolish enough to try and stop him.
Theme Song: Nemo, Nightwish

[lizardman ((mummyman3))]

Name: Jacob Daniel Klaise (Klace)
Nickname: Jack, Jake, Dan, Danny, Klauss (humor me lol)
Age: 20
Birthday: 10/19
Appearance: JAcob Daniel Klaise
Mutant Ability: Frost Control (Ability to control ice and freeze water)
Control Level: His control over his ability is not well placed, sometimes when he gets scared his power alone takes over, sometimes people get hurt. Though with sturdy training everyday he is slowly, and i mean slowly, learning to control it.
Weaknesses: Fire, or any ability to melt ice, weather conditions do not affect him.
Talents: He is a writer, and a painter, and a trumpeter
Fears: Drowning, burning alive, spiders, rats, snakes, being shot at, weaponry in general.
Occupation: Painter, paints buildings and murals, or people on paper
Personality: Kind, Caring, Random, Sporadic, and Creative
*Background: Jacob had never known about his mutation, and neither did the family, mostly because it hereditary from a gene that was forgotten in his bloodline. For years he lived as a normal human being, unlike the so many that had the gene, but then on his eighteenth birthday his gift from God appeared in one instant. So many had been frozen solid, and it was all because his girlfriend broke up with him, he felt guilty and hurt, and he hated her at that point. His emotions became a frozen reality as the young man died inside, and then he died inside forever, his whole family was gone and it was his fault. He normally distracts himself by writing, but has taken up other hobbies as well, such as painting and his continuation of his instrumental brass instrument the trumpet. Other times he is random as he wanders off and does other things at random intervals of time each day or once a week. He never knows what the day will hold when he sits there and paints on his easel or at work painting buildings, it was an on call thing the best he could get since he controlled ice from a distance. He usually practiced making small things he was not good at other items such as weaponry, but he is learning to make things with his hands. Each day is a new prospect of hope and prosperity, even for those who hide and stay out of the way.
Other: nope
Theme Song: N/A

[QuizzicalQuarks]

Name: Victor *censored* Vector
Nickname: Mister Mash/Mish-Mash
Age: Early twenties
Birthday: 7th November
Appearance: His eyes are useless, though he can sense objects around him via the sensations they emit. He has gruesome scarring on his back, which always seems to be fresh. His tongue is pointed, and he usually wears gloves or some description. Often surgical gloves. He always has a cane with him; he frequently needs it, too.
Mutant Ability: Absorption/expulsion.
He is, essentially, a vector. He can transport physical and mental sensations from person to person. Discovered thus far is his ability to transport pain, sickness, vitality, emotions, memories and wounds from creature to creature. He also seems capable of siphoning a portion of another's ability, though this person must be willing or unconscious.
He can also sense the associations people make with the objects they have touched recently. This gives him rather excellent tracking abilities, as the sensations they leave behind are usually rather specific to the individual who leaves them. He can smell these associations to an extent, and can sense them when in close proximity to himself. This helps him not walk into walls.
He also has empathy in the sense that, once he has made eye contact/skin contact with someone, he can see what it is that he can absorb from them, before he does so. Those with particularly strong sensations leave traces of this sensation in a radius around them.
His saliva has healing properties. It can seal flesh-wounds.
Control Level:
Vector-to-host: 98%
Host-to-vector: 65%
Both vary based on the status of the host. An unconscious host ensures a 99% controlled transferal. The stronger the sensation, the harder it is to control. It has been known for the host to take almost complete control of the transferal, if they have a strong mind and powerful sensations.
Weaknesses:
*He is influenced by whatever he is carrying: years of exposure to extreme emotion, pain and illness has made him more resilient than most, but he most certainly can feel the effects.
* Direct skin contact or mutual eye-contact is necessary for the transferal to be made. Transferal is not instant: it is cumulative, over time. Transportation is faster with a larger area of skin contact. Removing the very last trace of a sensation of exceptionally difficult, with an unwilling, conscious host, therefore Victor is usually left with the remnants. Thus, he is almost always sickly.
* One with a strong mind can force sensations upon him: even unintentionally.
* Sensations must be taken from somewhere. He cannot synthise them in the transferal process. Thus, every damage he does to an opponent must be something he has suffered himself.
* He is blind. Pretty big weakness, there.
* Physically, he is pretty frail. Constantly being ill, and having one's back mutilated fortnightly can do that to a guy. He has fairly little stamina. When he isn't allowed to take someone else's.
* Oh: and if you damage his back, this will upset the fresh scarring, and will cause him intense pain. Make sure he can't channel it to you, though.
Talents: * An excellent knowledge of anatomy and the use of small blades. Using these abilities in conjunction is a further ability of his. Especially whilst keeping the lucky person in question alive.
* Tolerating extreme pain without passing out or discarding his sensibility.
* Self-restraint. This is very necessary when extracting extreme emotion.
* Being a quiet little smart-arse.
* Moving very quietly and quickly. Generally being stealthy.
* Tracking people
* Plotting
* Poetry,would you believe it.
* Leaving no trace.
Fears:* Over-stimulation. Ability-wise, having a lot of people brush up against him or touch him simultaneously. The likelyhood of him temporarily being overwhelmed and losing his sense of self is fairly high.
* Anyone with a mental illness or a seriously messed up past constantly on their mind. Him inadvertently being forced to live through that in their mind is very real, and exceptionally terrifying for the poor guy.
* Losing his position. He's seen far too many memories of most mutants. He never wants to go there.
Occupation: Enforcer. He is the leading assassination and torture specialist, and would be for the whole precedent, if it wasn't for the discrimination. Single jobs only, though: please and thankyou. When the officials want to take him down a peg, they give him stamina work. He also takes jobs on the side, for whoever can give him a hefty enough reason, and can be subtle enough about it.
Personality: Calculating if quiet, just as transporting illnesses has ravaged his body, transporting emotions, memories and mental illnesses has had a profound impact on his mind. He is very cunning, if paranoid, though he tries to conceal this. He is a survivalist, and has absolutely no qualms with running from a fight, and will back-stab if necessary to preserve his own life. He is also extremely bitter regarding just about everything that has occurred in his life thus far. As an enforcer, he is nothing if not efficient. He relishes power, though he tries not to indulge this infatuation. Behind his exceptional restraint and general resentment, he does have morals, as well as a very profound set of thoughts and values, still in their infancy.
*Background: Victor's earliest memory of one of white, intense, pain. He was born with four pairs of wings, you see. They were torn off. Presumably, his parents must have been part of the force, themselves, or surely they would not have favoured him with such 'correctional' treatment. Victor doesn't know. He does know, however, that those same wings grew back. Again, and again. Every time, they were removed. They simply wouldn't quit. To this day.
It was in one of these earlier sessions that his ability was discovered. One of the surgeons had managed to tear his glove on a sprig of bone, and the momentary contact with Victor sent him sprawling on the ground, crying out in the pain he had previously been inflicting. For better or worse, such an unusual ability caught the attention of some of the officials.Perhaps one of his parents really had been in the force: mutants had been killed for less. Like a dog with an extra pair of eyes, they trained him. Lucky.
Due to his unknown heritage or not, he was a favorite. Not favored enough for them to prevent any of the security from beating him when they had suffered through a bad day, or enough for them to cease trying to cut off his wings, but ultimately, at the age of 13, he was crowned as an enforcer. He has been doing his faceless mother proud ever since as the leading assassination and torture specialist. Perhaps it is because of his brilliance in these areas that the humans in the force give him such a ridiculously hard time.
Other: He never knew his true last name. He had given it up so as to not shame his family.
Like being a mutant wasn't enough, the fact that he cannot see has pegged him as a brilliant source of entertainment for the humans in the force. Victor is on his last legs. One gets the impression that some of those officers are going to fall ill rather soon.

Victor's life is not exactly a bundle of sunshine and lollipops. Actually, his first experience with a lollipop involved his close acquaintance with the end of a hack-saw and a golf-club via his spinal vertebrae. So all in all, he is not a very happy chappy: and holding this all in around the humans is not the easiest thing in the world. So sometimes he has to let off a little steam. On the only group of individuals he has any power over: the mutants. If one has any requests regarding this minority, expect Victor to be very thorough, indeed. Aside from the occasional bloody murder or pulpy flesh-heap, Victor thinks most mutants to be inferior beasts: if a very useful supply of negative thoughts and pain. There are rumors of him keeping a 'stockpile' of individuals rife with disease in hidden parts of the town; should the need arise for them.
Theme Song:

[AngelinARosebed]

.: Name :.
Preston Carter

.: Nickname :.
Preston to those on equal footing at him or to those he deems as 'friends'. 'Sir' or 'Mr. Carter' or simply 'Carter' to those who work for him or who he otherwise deems beneath him.

.: Age :.
32

.: Birthday :.
October 9th

.: Appearance :.
(Picture pending. For now, have a description.)
Preston is fairly tall, standing a little over six feet tall. He has slightly broad shoulders accompanied by a fit but not overly muscular body. His skin is fairly pale, likely from the long hours he spends indoors. His hair is blond and falls down to just past his shoulders. It is well kept and almost always tied back in a loose ponytail. His eyes are an icy blue, almost gray in color and often reflect his cold demeanor.

.: Views on Mutants :.
They're a blight on the world, if you ask him. Certainly not deserving of equal social status to humans.

.: Talents :.
Manipulation. Preston is highly perceptive and uses that to his advantage to find ways of manipulating people.

Tactical thinking. Preston is an excellent tactician. He's always trying to think two or more steps ahead of everyone else. It also goes hand in hand with his skills in manipulation, he's always forming plans to find ways to manipulate people under his control.

Logical thinking - Goes hand in hand with his tactical prowess. He has the skill and capability to think in a logical manner - though his sense of logic is based on cold hard facts and rarely takes morality into consideration.

Acting - Preston is a master at masking his thoughts and feelings. He is also a very skilled liar and can play just about any part that is required of him. Not that he often does. Very rarely will he stray from his cold, hard demeanor, unless utterly necessary to achieve what he wants. Hey, that's what he has people who work for him for, right?

Shooting - When it boils down to it, he's actually not a bad shot. Not the world's best shot either, but he does have fairly decent aim.

.: Fears :.
Failure, especially failure to restrain the mutant population. Death.

.: Occupation :.
Town Governor

.: Personality :.
To put it quite bluntly, Preston tends to carry himself with a very cold and hard demeanor. Very serious, no-nonsense, cold and distant sort of man. He doesn't make friends - he sees people only as 'useful' or 'not useful'. Those that are useful are the lucky ones - those that have ceased to be useful are disposable or else easily dismissed or ignored.

He rarely smiles, the best you might get is a smirk at times. Not that he walks around frowning all the time. Typically he has three main facial expressions. Indifference, a cold glare or a small smirk.

He can be smug when he wants to be - although it is typically only when he is absolutely certain that victory is his. After all, he's not the type to count his eggs before they've hatched. Victory is something to be celebrated only after it's already been acquired.


.: Background :.
Preston was born to the well-established and prestigious Carter family. His father was a politician, his mother a lovely young debutante from an aristocratic family. He grew up with the luxury of having the best education and private tutors money could buy. Neither did he lack any of basic necessities to live - expensive clothing and the kind of food the average person could only dream of eating.

That isn't, however, to say that his life was perfect. His father was a very strict, cold and emotionally distant man. His mother was far too caught up in her own social circles to ever pay him much mind. Being the only son, it was also made fairly clear from an early age that he would be carrying on the family name and title. Because of this, his father took great care in raising and teaching his son exactly what it meant to be a Carter.

At the age of twelve, his sister was brought into the world. The pregnancy was an especially difficult one, and unfortunately his mother was lost in childbirth. It was discovered shortly after her birth that his sister was tainted with the dreaded mutant gene. Their father, already deeply prejudiced against the mutant kind, blamed the poor girl for his wife's death, claiming her mutation was what strained the woman's body so.

The girl grew up tormented and abused by her father. Any minor infraction of a rule resulted in punishment, more often than not harsh in nature. Preston was forced to watch, as his father often used his sister as a means to teach him how the mutant kind were to be dealt with.

His father's 'lessons' worked, too. Preston grew up despising mutants, considering them to be less than human and non-deserving of basic human rights. Unfortunately, his father's cold treatment of the boy also backfired in a sense, as Preston also does not care for the company of other humans. His relationships with people tend to be categorized as people he despises, and people he despises slightly less than others.

When his sister finally snapped and murdered their father, Preston didn't bat an eye. Nor did he bat an eye when his sister was taken away by the authorities. Whether she lived or was killed he doesn't really know - nor does he care to. He took hold of the family fortune and found his way to Highwater Creek. Two years after moving there, at the age of twenty, he began working his way up the ladder of town officials, until he eventually landed himself the role of town governor. He now works tirelessly to keep the place in order and make certain the mutant population stays in their place.

.: Other :.
His penmanship is exquisite.

He spends far too much time at work, filling out paperwork and whatever else needs to be done.

.: Theme Song :.
I Own You - Shinedown

[taxidermy jesus]

Name: Coleman François Cooper

Age: 35

Birthday: April 2nd

Appearance: A thin black man, with narrow shoulders and sleepy face.

Talents:

• Quick Draw: While not a precision shooter, he's almost always gets in the first shot.
  
• Medical Proficiency: He can stitch up a wound, set bandages, and is acquainted with herbal medicine.
  
• Piano: While not an expert player, he can plunk out the occasional tune. He mostly knows religious hymns.

Fears: Failing to protect others, becoming morally bankrupt

Occupation: Deputy

View on Mutants: "With love for mankind and hatred of sins." Cooper believes that mutations are a form of temptation. While all mutants are cursed to some degree, he has no quarrel with the repressed individual. But to succumb to the powers is to sin, and should be justly punished. He is uncomfortable with the use of Enforcers, but understands the necessity of fighting fire with fire.

Personality: Cooper is a first and foremost, a man of order. Everything in the world has a proper place, and to go against the natural order is to invite chaos. A society requires rules and regulation to function, and should be followed, even at great personal cost. Although he has a difficult time empathising with others, he generally cares for people. He holds them to high expectations because he only wants the best for them. He's more inclined to think with his heart than his head, and has a strong sense of intuition.

Background: Cooper was born to free family in North Carolina. From a young age, his family encouraged him to become a doctor, knowing it would guarantee him a place in society. He had little time for leisure, and spent the bulk of his time studying, or working in the family bar. After the death of his father, during his late teens, he abandoned his schooling to take over the family business.

In his mid-twenties, he fell in love with a young Chinese laundress. Although they engaged fairly quickly, the two could not afford to marry. Leaving the bar in the care of his younger brother, Cooper traveled south in search of better work. His fiance stayed behind, but kept regular contact through the post. It was a trying time in his life. While he was able to find employment, it often temporary and low-paying. He was poor, homesick, and missed his girl.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. His pride would not allow him to return home empty-handed. Against his greater conscience, he joined a band of outlaws, rustling cattle and stealing horses. But his career in crime was short-lived. A looming guilt weighed heavy on his soul, and he sold out his partners in exchange for a bounty, before turning back to legitimate work. He found solid employment on a cattle drive, using his past experience as a thief to defend against potential ones. Just as things were beginning to look up for Cooper, a letter arrived. His wife had died in a fire.

It could only be divine punishment for his past transgressions. Cooper took to his work with a religious conviction. He could not change his past, but he could cut down others that made the same mistakes. It was not long he transformed from a simple cowpoke to a full-fledged bounty hunter. He abandoned his job to chase thieves, murderers, and mutants across America. Eventually he landed himself in Highwater Creek. When the town' deputy was shot down in a robbery, Cooper made sure the man found justice, and in doing so, found himself a new job.

Theme Songs:

God' Gonna Cut You Down
Wayfaring Stranger