The Untouchables; Windy City Heroes

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Aero Blue

he hears his master's voice
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. One post per week
Online Availability
5-11 EST weekdays, anytime weekends.
Writing Levels
  1. Give-No-Fucks
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Douche
  5. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Superhero, urban fantasy, space opera, crime thriller, supernatural

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A depiction of superheroes in the golden age.
Alternate history, where superpowers have emerged in the wake of World War I. Plays heavily upon the
treatment of superhumans, and follows their lives as we bridge from the Roaring Twenties into the Great Depression. Initially hailed as a beacon of modernity and a new era of humanity, the Great Depression saw superhumans as people that were exploited, scapegoated, or corrupted in the wake of financial disaster.

Organized crime has become an easy way for the empowered (often referred to as ‘Specials’) to make a living. Of particular renown are Johnny Torrio and Al Capone, known Specials who have elevated their Chicago Outfit into America’s foremost crime syndicate.

You - whether you come from pure or unsavory walks of life - are a member of a specially recruited task force under one Eliot Ness, seeking to combat the corrupt and corpulent ways of the Chicago gangsters, who feast on ill-gotten meals while all around them starve.




Prologue 1 (The First Special)

Prologue 1 (The First Special)

Fear was good on the battlefield, someone had said. They had said something or another about the rush of adrenaline, the battle-trance, the out-of-body feeling that allowed a soldier to hold his head up while bullets chased down his comrades left or right. Fear was good, that person had said, because both fight and flight alike tapped into the most basest elements of fear itself. Arnie Hutchinson, at the time, had agreed.

Fear was good, sure.

But alcohol was better. And Arnie Hutchinson, naturally, agreed.

The poison of choice this time around had been sake, ‘borrowed’ from one of the Japanese conscripts. It was cold, he had warned, and liable to taste like shit. Arnie, for as agreeable as his mood was for the day, was inclined to agree. Yet as he emerged from the trench, the taste of sake stained the roof of his mouth, along with what he suspected was his heart leaping out through his throat. He had almost fallen on his first step over the top, his legs quaking beneath him.

Fear was good, alcohol was better, and a little bit of each was to blame, to be certain. Woodrow Wilson, as well. Alcohol did strange things in strange times and in the worst places. As all around him succumbed to a hail of lead, he found his mind gripped in ironies. Inwardly, he thought to himself; “I fucking voted for you, Woodie!” Arnie was a Class II, married, and drafted when all the lonely Class Oners were depleted from of conscripts. Of course, his folks back home were like to geld him if they found out he hadn’t signed up to get blown away crawling from a trench. He was not a patriot. But he was an American.

Fuck.

From his peripherals, he spotted a geyser of flames erupted from the ground, and the intensity of screams rising with it. Someone blown to red mist. Someone immolated. Neither were good for an open casket, although he imagined the former was less painful than the latter. Imagination was a terrible thing. Arnie found himself thinking of sweet Evelyn, in tears as she stood overlooking a wooden box, scraps of meat within like the haul of a butcher. Arnie-meat.

Arnie-meat.

Arnie-meat.

Arnie raised his rifle, and then the maelstrom overtook him. He felt the most uncanny of sensations, like the agony of a muscle cramping, and then tearing, and tearing some more. Grey smoke rose from the ground beneath him, clogging his nose with the charred taste of smog. Through it all, he turned his head to look.

That’s my arm… on the ground. And my guts and… I’m fucking falling apart aren’t I?.

Arnie Hutchinson felt himself shatter.

Hello God, my name is Arnie-Meat. I did have sex before marriage, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me. Now, I think I’ve just been blown to bits, so I hope you can also overlook the time I pissed on Agatha’s cat. My word, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? I don’t think that’s very Catholic of you, sir. Not very catholic indeed. I’ll absolve you if you let me into Heaven, though.

His pieces, disembodied and fragile, flying into the arms of angels.

Evelyn will be disappointed of course. Arnie-Meat’s considerably less handsome than Arnie, if I do say so myself. Much more defined facial features. Or, rather, facial features at all. Did I ever mention that I got blown up? Because I did, you know, I most certainly got blown up.

He was one, and all, so many pieces, floating.

Rising again.

Arnie Hutchinson had felt himself shatter. And then Arnie Hutchinson felt himself born again, sinew and flesh looking for one another, re-embracing like the tight embrace of lovers, bone snapping in place with bone. Puss seeping back into unnatural pores that closed off, as his form was re-assembled. Then there he was, naked and whole upon the battlefield. Almost as if by instinct, he retrieved his rifle from the dirt, and continued his charge.

One bullet took off the left part of his head, reducing his vision by half but for a mere moment before the chasm of his skull began to calcify and mend itself. He felt the slime of his eye form into a sphere as he regained his vision, his attention focused upon a gun nest. He laughed and praised the heavens as a machine gun eviscerated him, as his guts wound themselves within his exposed belly like a serpentine mass of pink and held themselves in place, the folds of his body closing in upon itself.

He had a gift from God, he realized, and a bullet for each one of his foes.
Prologue 2 (Inquisition)

“Ness, Eliot. Chief Investigator. You new?”

The man spoke impatiently, staring into a closed gate of monochrome. His trench-coat was too large for him, yet he – the man with the noble nose and the dark hair parted clean down the middle – stood with a powerful confidence. He leered at the chrome door, as if it were a student being put in his place by a particularly haughty schoolteacher. A meek voice emerged from behind the closing.

“Yes, sorry sir. Chief Investigator, sir.”

“Very good. Let me in quickly and I’ll think about saving your castration for next time.” The gate parted, left and right half screeching pneumatically. Eliot Ness strode past the emasculated rookie, eyes looking down the corridor that presented itself. On all four sides he was beset by the grey of steel, no windows, no ventilation. Some said that the corridor created a claustrophobic illusion of sorts, the idea that it was the maw of a metal colossus closing in on its prey. Eliot Ness had no time for this poetic nonsense.

At the end of the corridor was a pane of glass, a pufferfish staring at Eliot from the other side, floating upon nothingness. Its voice was a croak, “Good morning Eliot. Did Bart give you trouble?”

Eliot parted his hair once more and nodded in response, “I’ll never understand the turnover for glorified doormen. Randall was dull and couldn’t remember faces, sure, but he was an amicable enough man. No matter, to the Nexus please.”

“Of course.”

The glass-pane shimmered, its surface pulsing in patterns like a pond, a rock skipped upon the waters. Eliot stepped through it, and emerged in a room of blackness. There was a single desk, with pen and paper, a few notebooks, newspaper clippings, and a large crystal of glowing white. The Investigator took off his trench-coat, wrapping it around a century old oaken chair. He cleared his throat, before prodding the crystal with a delicate finger. “Lot, parameters, if you would.”

An uncanny voice spoke from the crystal, part wasp-like buzz and part siren. “As ever, Eliot Ness, your long term goal is the toppling of the Chicago Outfit.”

“Targets of note?”

“Johnny Torrio is the leader. Known Special, but nature of manifestation shrouded in rumors. Said to be calamitous. Al Capone second in command. Unhinged. Known Special, superhuman physique and size manipulation. Direct conflict inadvisable.”

“My team?”

“Existing operatives either un-compatible or otherwise occupied. Your first objective, assembling a group of qualified individuals, Specials or otherwise.”

Eliot sighed as he leaned back in his chair, “That’s rather vague, Lot, any leads.”

“We have found that orphans that reach maturity have a compatible psychological profile to the tasks at hand.”

“… you don’t say.”



Background
"For these are special times indeed."

The First World War, the Great War, and the War to end all Wars. Tens of millions sacrificed in what was meant to be the last confrontation of man, their lives sapped away and harvested into red mist over four years, three months, and two weeks. Yet in and of itself, the Great War had been a harbinger of worse times to come – industry and technological sophistication had grown exponentially and became weaponized. Perhaps even more despairingly, was the rise of the First Special.

Arnie Hutchinson of the Associate Power of the United States of America, designated ‘Lazarus’. Reduced to smithereens by mortar-fire, his organs and flesh had regenerated from molecules, and rendered him whole once more. He became an invincible infantryman who could not be stopped by any form of weaponry, ballistic nor chemical, that single-handedly subverted the grueling notions of trench warfare. He had no need to cower and hide. He stood, he charged, and he conquered.

There were tactical limitations to the impact of a singular entity upon the battlefield, but the mere existence of Lazarus demoralized the opposing forces, and raised the morale of their own coalition. Arnie Hutchinson, soon promoted to Captain, was a figure blessed by God himself, a sign that the powers above deigned to crown them victor. The Great War would soon end with the advent of the First Special.

Captain Hutchinson would return to America in the 1920s, having taken a brief excursion in China and Japan. He would come to find that America had entered a period of prosperity, known by many as the ‘Roaring Twenties’. It was a period of social and cultural upheaval, of art, of equality, of automobiles, of telephones, of suffrage, of motion pictures and electricity, and of movie stars. It would also prove to be a time of the Specials – as more and more seemed to appear throughout the globe. This development and the scientific basis behind it stunned scientists, who could not fathom the cause of their manifestations.

Nonetheless, the Roaring Twenties were a period of modernity and acceptance, and the Specials – fearsome though there abilities were – were accepted, and allowed to prosper.

All the same, the Twenties had a darkness to them. Prohibition – the ban of alcoholic beverages – led to a new era of organized crime. It was the Roaring Twenties, a time for all to prosper, and the criminal ranks were no exception. Of particular note were the Chicago Outfit, led by Johnny Torrio and his factotum Al Capone. Both of them were notorious ‘gangsters’ as well as outed Specials. After all, with great power, came the facility to use them for crime. Many did just so.

Prosperity, of course, was not immortal. And eventually the Roaring Twenties died with a whimper. Soon came the Great Depression. The economic strength of the nation collapsed by two-thirds, and rich and poor lost all they had. The Jazz age was over, and music was bleak. Regrettably, as the Jazz age faded, issues that had been brushed aside by the times resurfaced.

The Specials were here, and they had reason to use their powers for ill, for they had lost as much as everyone else had, and to survive, they had to find some way to get it back.

These are perilous times.

These are the times of the Specials.
SETTING and STORY

As a whole, this Roleplay is set in early 1930s America during the onset of the Great Depression. This is an alternate history in which Superhumans (dubbed ‘Specials’) have appeared in monumental numbers since the end of the First World War. Those familiar with the Great Depression will generally be aware that it was… not a fun time. Massive levels of unemployment, homelessness and overall the truest essence of poverty.

The first planned arc is centered in Chicago, the Windy City. Chicago during this time period was strongly associated with mafia and gangster elements, and this alternate history is no different. Crime largely revolved around illicitly providing alcohol to get around the laws of Prohibition, and many of the poor (exponentially increased due to the Depression) turned to crime of this sort to make a living.

The Chicago Outfit is the most prominent of the syndicates, led by Johnny Torrio and Al Capone, who in this history are noted and powerful Specials. Dangerous and - mostly due to Capone’s influence - unpredictable, they are a dangerous element in Chicago.

Eliot Ness, a federal investigator, has been tasked with assembling a group (you lot!) to taking down this crime outfit, which most certainly contains a large number of dangerous Specials.



RULES

- Iwaku rules, obviously, hold water here.
- This isn’t one of the mature sections, so please use ‘fade-to-black’ if you’re going to reference scenes of a sexual nature. Despite that, this will have mature thematics - death, alcoholism, discrimination, crime in general, what have you.
- Posting time: my law is quality over quantity, but you also have to contribute enough to satisfy the rest of your peers. Give or take relationship.
- Be nice!
- Oh, and this last part isn’t so much a rule as it is an important note. The title is ‘the Untouchables’ to reference what Eliot’s group of investigators in real life were often referred to as. Our squad here is not explicitly labelled this.



CHARACTER SHEET (Include any additional information you want)

NAME:
ALIAS: (If your character previously served as a hero/villain of some sort, there alias can go here. Can also include nicknames. Code names are likely to happen, but will probably be decided through RP).
AGE:
GENDER:
APPEARANCE: (If you want, an image will suffice).
PERSONALITY:

POWERS/ABILITIES:

So. First off, it’s not absolutely necessary to be a Special (have superpowers). For story reasons, it is, however, necessary to have some sort of plausible reason for Eliot to want to recruit you into the squad.

As far as powers go, you are not limited as to the nature of the power (magic, technology, mutation). Any of them are useful for story purposes (maybe you have technology way ahead of the time that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, maybe you’re a persecuted bestial mutation).

I have no need for you to list out specific weaknesses. Do keep in mind not to cross the ‘god threshold’. Simply stated, don’t be broken and overpowered. As far as power levels are concerned; weak to streetlevel to toptier are all welcome.

HISTORY: (This will be absolutely mandatory, but it can be minimalist. I don’t expect a novella. Of note for inclusion are probably an establishment of why you were recruited, and why you decided to accept. There’s no real limitations to background. If you’re a hero maybe you were just asked to join, if you were a villain maybe you were captured and offered a favorable deal if you joined).
 
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Special thanks to BearEnthusiast for the graphics!

THE TEAM

The Amazing Grace: Played by Gands. Telepath/telekinetic.
Dudley St. Dennis (The Leprechaun): Played by AllstarGP. Cloaked hero.
Fang Wenqin (Mistress Wendy): Played by Shizuochan. Kicks things.
William Anthony Roberts (Miles Teller): Played by Bear Enthusiast. Shoots things with the power of jazz.
Nikolai Luzchezke (Red Son): Played by HellHoundWoof. Ze German pyro.
Franchesca Dubois (Camille): Played by Bear Enthusiast. Sultry shapeshifter.
 
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The Amazing Grace

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Name Grace Heathcote Drummond Willoughby

Stage name: Amazing Grace

Age 23

Female

Personality : Sassy, inquisitive, stubborn

Graduate class of 1928 at Bryn Mawr degree in ancient history, her best friend, future actress
Katherine Hepburn.

Grace has developed Mental powers and in fact is trying to become a stage mentalist.

Among her powers:

Psychometry, the ability to read objects

Empath, she can read emotions at a distance

Telepathy. She is a powerful telepath, if she can touch the object of her power on their
head. Far weaker at a distance.

She has a mental danger sense, a form of precognition that she has no control over. It can help her avoid harm, or decrease the amount of harm

She has a weak level of telekinetic ability, about half of her own body's strength level or like
a child of 10 /12

She can remote her vision and hearing through someone she has mentally bonded with.

She can induce Vertigo in others.

She is very intelligent speaking several languages. She has managed a masters degree in
ancient history. A secondary degree in comparative religion. She reads at least two newspapers
every morning, usually from different parts of the world. She likes doing Crosswords and a
variety of other mental puzzles. She plays piano expertly and enjoys mystery books.

She can use firearms, but generally doesn't favor them, not ladylike.

She has developed an excellent slight of hand stage magician act to accompany her mentalist
routine.

She could probably pick a simple lock, she's been trying to learn lock smithing on the side.

A brief history

Grace's father is an English Baron and Earl. Gilbert Heathcote-Drummond-Willoughby
and an American woman, Eloise Lawrence Breese. One of four children, she grew up in luxury,
having no wants and every chance to sate her curiosity of life.

Her father was a soldier and then a politician. She had the chance to travel as a child, seeing
the east coast of America, Egypt, Italy, Greece and India. She was always seeking more
knowledge.

During one trip to India, and a journey into more wild lands, she became separated from
the group she was touring with. She found herself in an ancient temple to a Hindu Goddess
of knowledge. Something happened to her there. Causing her mental abilities to manifest.

She had hidden them as best she could until she came to college. Her best friend during college
was future actress Katherine Hepburn. It was Katherine's sense of showmanship that developed
Grace's future mentalist act.

Once, while in Washington with her family for a summer trip, she showed off at a party.
Attending the party was the director of the bureau of investigation J. Edgar Hoover. She created
a lasting impression with the director that has now come to her being a part of the

Untouchables.

@Shizuochan
 
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Will be working on something ASAP. Just a little busy the last few days, plus feeling a little under the weather.
 
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NAME: Dudley St. Dennis
ALIAS: The Leprechaun
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
APPEARANCE: In Costume.

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(Artwork by Alex Ross. Subject is Bruce Willis' character from Unbreakable.)

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Out of Costume.

PERSONALITY: Coming from a life of luxury and privilege you'd expect someone who carries the name of St. Dennis to be snobbish and ignorant to the needs of others and only interested in his own affairs and less respectful of those around him, However under the wealthy facade, Dudley is in reality one of the most generous and hospitable people in the city and would gladly do anything to make it safe. Unlike his parents before him, he is known for being charitable to those less fortunate than himself, particularly when it comes to donating money to institutions such as orphanages and soup kitchens, he also possesses strong, socialist views and is an outspoken democrat as well as a strong critic of Herbert Hoover.

Dudley has a good deal of inner contempt for his fellow upperclassmen who he feels aren't doing enough to help the poor during these difficult, post boom times. In terms of friendships, Dudley, having had few friends as a child, is more than willing to make them as an adult, being grateful for any friendships he can form while also being fearful of losing them.

This line of thinking has also transferred over to his work as The Leprechaun, given his Robin Hood-esc tactics of taking some of his foe's ill gotten wealth and giving it to the poor and destitute.

Despite this good form on his part, Dudley also possesses a great deal of arrogant idealism, believing that with his powers and money, he has the potential to keep Chicago as well as the country from falling apart both in and out of costume with little help. This in turn caused him to flub a couple of missions early into his crime fighting career. In spite of his well meaning overconfidence, he is often very specific in his goals and intentions and rarely goes beyond them unless told to.

While possessing an otherwise strong moral code, Dudley is willing, albeit unhappy, to kill an opponent if the fight escalates to such a point especially where Special's are concerned. He is also rather theatrical in his methods (be it whistling The Irish Washerwoman to frighten and confuse his foes or leaving behind a piece of green paper after every battle as a calling card)
and is not above making jokes at the expense of his enemies either and considers himself witty for doing so. (even if he is the only one who thinks so)

Above all else, though basically a city level special as far as his powers are concerned, Leprechaun is willing and able to go anywhere and brave anything. Half for the service of good and half for the rush and excitement of it all as, although doing what he does for mostly altruistic reasons, his other and only selfish one is for the thrill and peril of adventure, which he has dreamed about ever since childhood.

He is also slightly dishonest in two respects. Firstly when it comes to the nature of his powers that he claims (while disguised) came from a hidden magic spring in Ireland and secondly to the nature of his belief system as while he claims to be a devout catholic like his parents, he is in reality a pagan and has been since his encounter with the leprechaun that gave him his magic cloak. Outside of that, he has a deep disdain for those who use dishonest means to achieve their ends, this having come from revelations surrounding not only his parents but his entire family fortune. Despite his law abiding nature, he deeply detests new laws in the country and longs for the day when prohibition will end. Last of all, while being far from naive and being able to tell when someone is trying to fool him, he does have moments where he lets his guard down, such was the case when being asked to Join Ness' team. His favourite food is scrambled eggs and bacon.

POWERS/ABILITIES:

When Dudley caught a real live Leprechaun who offered him a wish in return for his freedom, Dudley was very sure about what he wanted. the Cloak was one thing but in order to be a legitimate threat to criminals, he needed some special abilities to go with it. Not wanting to be too powerful, lest the power eventually corrupted him in some way, he had some specific things in mind. Ones that Elliot Ness found to be potentially useful when recruiting the amateur vigilante. The powers that his magic cloak gives Dudley are as follows.

Invisibility - Through concentration, Dudley can turn himself invisibly for as long as he pleases, unless his concentration is broken, which it almost inevitably is. This allows him to spy on his opponents, unseen in the open. It also gives him an added fear factor as by fighting and using objects in this state, it gives his foes the impression of being haunted by spirits.

Phasing through walls - By the same means as before, The Leprechaun also has the ability to break the laws of physics by phasing through solid matter. By merely phasing through a wall or a ceiling into the next room, he can throw his enemies off guard quite easily. This power further comes in handy when needing to retrieve loot from safes or boxes prior to distributing them both to the original owner as well as the poor. The major downside of the power is that while nobody can touch him, he can't touch anything or anyone either.

Flight - By means of concentration yet again, Dudley is also capable of self propulsion. (In other words flight.) This requires the most effort as Dudley must think of a specific location or target in order to fly to where he wants to be. But even if he doesn't have a metal image of the place in question, as long as it's somewhere on earth, he can reach it. His usual speed whilst in flight is usually 120 MPH unless he truly pushes himself to the limit, giving him a top speed of 140 MPH.

Naturally, none of this would be worth anything if Dudley didn't know how to fight and thanks to his time in Ireland, he does. Dudley is more of a brawler than a sophisticated fighter, having learned all he knows from participation in bar room brawls. He is very skilled in bare knuckle boxing as well as defending himself with his arms and legs, but he main speciality is using the room and any and all objects around him as weapons as well as shields. Whats more, since The Leprechaun's powers are concentration based, it makes it easy for his enemies to get some shots in. Plus if Dudley is, for example, tired or hungry, it tends to put the cloak's powers in a state of flux as he has more trouble concentrating while in such states.

HISTORY: Dudley St. Dennis. Born in 1902 to Claude and Beatrix St. Dennis in 1901 on The Near North Side of Chicago, Illinois. Being born into one of the Wealthiest and most notorious of the Windy City's families, young Dudley found himself between two worlds while never getting to fully experience either fully. Dudley loved his parents and all that they gave him, but saw himself as the target for ridicule and bullying at public school simply for being their son. While the truth about his parents was kept from the boy, it was public knowledge within the city and the Near North Side in particular that Claude St. Dennis' grandfather had amassed the family's wealth through years of blackmail, tax cheating and gambling. This in turn gave his descendants a terrible reputation, not only amongst common working class folk, but also when it came to the few honest families of the Chicago elite. As a result, only those in said elite with equally bad standing in the city would associate themselves with them.

Claude and Beatrix were no angels themselves, having connections to a few of the various organised crime gangs and at least one crime family within the city. The only person they truly seemed to care for besides themselves whom they showered with love and gifts, creating not only a happy home life for him, but also creating, for themselves, the one person in their lives who would never walk out on them. All the same, they were not above using their son for their benefit and only taught him the proverbial "golden Rule" in order to restore and heal their "good name." Dudley remained friendly and polite throughout his childhood but no matter how hard he tried, he was only able to gain and hold onto a few friends and many of his efforts to try and be good to others were often scorned by those he tried to help because of his lineage. It was only when one of his closest friends explained the situation to Dudley, following an emotional breakdown, that he began to see his family in a different light. He became hardened towards them as a result of hearing the truth about them and would remain in such a state until their deaths.

Eventually, Dudley's parents found out about their son's new found knowledge and suddenly, their warmth and love turned into coldness and discipline. Pulling their son from public school and putting him in a private institute once he turned 14, they began to attempt to hammer their true philosophy into his mind. Things like taking whatever you want regardless of how it effects others, how to maintain one's own social and financial standing even if it means "rubbing someone out." Dudley however, was no fool. He saw right through his parent's deception and continued to build upon the better ideals that he had once naively though that his parents truly believed in.

Shortly after his 18th birthday, when Dudley was sent to the principle's office one day at school, he was less than surprised to learn that his parents had been gunned down by a street gang whom they had failed to pay. He dropped out of school soon afterwards, choosing not to pursue higher education. In a press conference shortly after the murders, he publicly denounced his parents and, though he wisely said nothing about it, cut all ties to the gangs and mobs his parents had been in league with. Dudley was now mostly alone, save for the family butler Dai. (A welsh immigrant who had worked for the St. Dennis' since he was a young man.)

Despite his denouncement healing his own reputation in the city somewhat, Dudley became thoughtful as his 22nd birthday rolled around. While it was true that none of the criminal organisations he had severed ties with had gone after him, there was a sense of paranoia in his mind that one day they would come to collect. What's more, although others were beginning to think well of him, there were those, especially in the press, who continued to see him as a "wolf in sheep's clothing." It was these things and more that made him decide to do some soul searching and so, leaving St. Dennis hall, his home, to the care of Dai, he went to the docks and boarded the first passenger ship headed to his ancestral home. Ireland.

For the next four years, Dudley continued to advance himself as both a person as well as a fighter while at the same time, getting back in touch with his roots. He travelled all across Ireland, learning all he could about being a better person from those he met. From time to time, he he would stop off at an inn or a tavern in the various towns and villages he visited and on occasions, he would be witness to a barroom brawl or two. It was in his attempts to break up these fights that Dudley learned the finer points of this seemingly sloppy form of combat and it in turn further advanced him in terms of personality. Sometimes however, Dudley would see things that in his heart, he knew he would never escape from, no matter where he went in the world. Crime, needless violence, hatred. And one night, he vowed that he would find a way to combat these forces, if only he had the power to do so.

One day, while walking through a field outside of Belfast, Dudley stopped and sat down on a nearby stone to catch his breath. As he observed his surroundings, he thought he could hear the sounds of high pitched breathing and running coming from the left of him. Turning his head in that direction, he was amazed to see what appeared to be a man with bright, red hair, no bigger than a human thumb and clad entirely in green, scampering through the grass looking around as if he was being followed. It didn't take Dudley too long to realise that this man was in fact one of the famed little people of Ireland. A leprechaun. Drawn to this strange and wonderful sight, as if in a trance, Dudley stood up, walked over to the leprechaun and picked him up before he could escape. At once the leprechaun began pleading for his freedom but Dudley, out of curiosity, asked what he would get in return. In answer, his tiny captive promised him anything his heart desired in exchange for him being set free. It was then, that Dudley suddenly remembered his own vow and being a man of somewhat strong imagination, asked for a green cloak of great power, one that he could use to fight evil, detailing the specific abilities he wanted the shroud to give him.

Moved by this story, the leprechaun granted Dudley his wish before being let go of. Now possessing the means to help people on such a large scale, Dudley bid Ireland farewell and returned home to Chicago. Upon returning St. Dennis Hall, he decided to test out the cloak and soon learned of the great powers it bestowed upon him. He could walk through walls and reach through solid objects, turn himself totally invisible and even glide through the air as fast as some designs of fighter planes. Sometime later, he fashioned for himself a domino mask made of hard leather, which he stuck to his face with spirit gum.

That was the start of Dudley's career as the masked vigilante special, known only as The Leprechaun. Throughout the rest of 1928, he would become a terror to the Chicago underworld, from street gangs, to bootleggers of poorly made alcohol to even some of the bigger names in the city. Being a big fan of theatrics, he would often install fear into his opponents by whistling the tune of the "Irish Washerwoman" while invisible, after every successful battle, he would leave a piece of green card in the shape of a four leaf clover for the police to find as a calling card. He gained somewhat of a bad reputation among more wealthy victims of crime as he would often repossess part of their stolen valuables to those in need. The police had little love for him either, but to the poor and oppressed of the Windy City, he was nothing short of a hero.

It wasn't until after the coming of the great depression that The Leprechaun found himself somewhat outclassed when in battle. Specials who had lost everything from the Wall Street crash, quickly turned to a life of crime using their powers to commit their deeds. Dudley often found himself at odds with these rogue super humans, but even though he managed to get in a few victories against them, more powerful ones proved to be too much for him. Mocked by the press and disheartened by his failures, Dudley considered retirement. That was until, while out of his nightly patrol, he was found and confronted by one Elliot Ness, who offered him the chance to do something truly important. Let Chicago's criminals beware. They have not seen the last of The Leprechaun!
 
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@Huntress, take your time!
@AllStarGP @Gands thank you! Haven't inspected fully, but a cursory scan doesn't reveal anything problematic :>

Anyways, going to drop a Player Character down below. I'm not quite sure how clunky it'll feel, having a PC and also serving as GM. If it feels too clunky, I'll likely just drop the PC. But, here goes.


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NAME: Fang Wenqin
ALIAS: Mistress Wendy
AGE: 22
GENDER: Female
PERSONALITY: The unfortunate stereotype of the ‘Dragon Lady’ is oft associated with Fang, for she is equal parts domineering and full of petty low cunning. Thoroughly unpleasant to be around, her ire for those she considers beneath her (which is most anybody) is scathing, captured in brief but bitter quips and sharp glares. Despite her overall unpleasant nature and tendency to resort to the underhanded to accomplish her goals, she is honorable in her own way. She has the utmost respect for the determined, those who will stop at nothing to accomplish their goals. Fang considers herself much the same, willing to die to carve out her place in America.

What she desires from her place? Wealth. Fortune. She is materialistic to the extreme, believing that wealth defines the people.

POWERS/ABILITIES: Mistress Wendy has got quite the set of legs. More specifically, their musculature functions at superhuman rates. The muscles are able to contract and expand at explosive levels, enabling her to kick hard enough to decapitate rhinos, leap tall buildings, and cross distances at blistering pace.

This power works as a ‘burst’ as opposed to a consistent application; therefore, she is able to achieve brief instances of superspeed and strength through her legs, not constant maintenance. Upon a single application, she requires time to recharge before she is able to do so once more.


Her most prominent application is combining her potential strength with the pointed edge of her heels, the force effectively rendering her footwear into blades. An intensely powerful kick delivered in this manner is capable of fully bisecting a man.

Aside from that, possesses the skillset of the prototypical femme fatale; a competent martial artist and seductress.

HISTORY:

Fang Wenqin was descended from Chinese immigrants that came to America during the Great Gold Rush. She often heard the stories of her people’s treatment. At first, when the gold was plentiful, the Chinese were well-received. When it dwindled, however, they simply received a well of vitriol. Years of having these tales pounded into her mind left her with one overriding worldview; materials and commodities are everything.

And so, as she grew older she became – like so many others like her – a prostitute for the sake of material wealth. It was acceptable to her. Wealth was everything, and wealth only came easy to the strong. The weak had to beg, grovel, and degrade themselves for even a portion of it.

Then, something wondrous happened.

She manifested. She became strong. With strength, came entitlement. Wealth would come easy to her, or she would take it. So she took. She took the brothel, and made sure that the girls would be paid more. The white men would give more to the girls, and the girls would give more than her. Those who took issue with the cycle found their rebuttal in the form of raw, unbridled strength, in lethal dosage.

Fang’s error, however, was assuming that she was not only Strong, but the Strongest. One of her unfortunate victims was part of Chicago’s police forces. While the late officer’s presence at such an establishment was kept mull, Mistress Wendy – as she was now known to the public – could not escape unpunished. Her establishment was subsequently raided, with the aim being to apprehend her.

She was strong yes, but she was but one.

She found herself coming to in shackles, face to face with Eliot Ness, who made the Mistress an offer she could not refuse.
 
Just as a heads up I'm thinking of going with a physical hero that is capable of immense feats of strength, with some durability and regenerative capabilities. I'm debating if her abilities will be based on her own body or on some sort of energy source that she would require to absorb / consume.

If there are too many female characters by the time I get a CS done, I'll consider turning my character into a male.
 
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@Huntress

When you're making that consideration, don't have to factor in the PC I posted. She's ultimately secondary to me.
 
I have a character in mind and will be working on the sheet later tonight.

An advocate for keeping jazz alive first and foremost in his mind but he'll be a talented enough Special to warrant being recruited I think.
 
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@BearEnthusiast


Sounds like a perfect sort of character for the time period in question. I can only suspect what his powers might be. Can't wait to see him.
 
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CHARACTER SHEET
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NAME: William Anthony Roberts
STAGE NAME: Miles Teller
AGE: 26
GENDER: Male
PERSONALITY: Miles is a passionate, outgoing and ultimately spirited jazz musician/pianist. He prefers to keep things lighthearted and full of witty banter. He's infamous for being able to talk himself out of situations (though more often than not his unfiltered tongue is what got him into that position in the first place). To some it might even seem that the only thing he takes truly seriously is his drive to keep Jazz alive.

But underneath his care free exterior, Miles follows his own personal moral code. Though his quick and sometimes unforgiving tongue might give the wrong impression to others he ultimately means well.

POWERS/ABILITIES:
  • Light Projection - Miles has the ability to transduce sound into light, fittingly enough. Miles is a gifted singer and performer but isn't exactly concerned with using his powers for good or even at all; preferring instead to create his own music without having to save the world or anything like that. He mostly uses it to give his performances that little something, something every once in awhile.
  • Enhanced Reflexes - Miles has remarkable reflexes and agility for someone who spends most of his time drinking or playing the piano. Its possible that this ability could be trained further but he doesn't really care.
  • Airwave Manipulation - Miles can also control the ratio between air pressure and sound waves, causing air molecules to vibrate at proportional magnitude of the ratio which allows him to create and control notably formidable air currents.
    • Miles can also use this ability while brandishing a firearm, capable of redirecting the bullet mid flight by affecting the air pressure and sound waves around it.
HISTORY:
William was born in the birthplace of jazz - New Orleans. Which, if you asked him, was the only good thing about his childhood. His father was an unruly drunk and his mother was incredibly disinterested in anything he ever did. William spent most of his younger years hanging around the streets of the city, listening to the music from outside the jazz clubs and breaking in at night to practice the piano.

Barely passing school due to general disinterest, Williams grew into a fine young man despite his lack of good parents and as soon as he could afford it, bought himself a decent keyboard and moved out -- taking on the new name of Miles Teller.

Taking to the streets to find his own fortune, his natural talent garnered him a few regular gigs at clubs across the city and as he was eager to share his ability and love for jazz with whoever would listen. It was around this time when the Specials came but Miles never gave it much thought because he was just to ingrained into the life of a jazz musician to bother himself with that. It was on one lonely evening as he played to himself in the dark did Miles realize that he too was one of them. He wasn't excited or apprehensive of what he learned, just afraid that it would complicate his true passion.

With age Miles soon found however that just playing at a club wasn't satisfying enough. He wanted to own a club and make it prosper -- that was his true dream. The hope came at a bad time however as the Roaring Twenties slowly began to die and Miles found himself more often than not out of work as club after club began closing down.


He was determined however. He used his powers to attract a large audience to his shows and when he realized that that wasn't enough he turned to other, bigger and illegal sources of money. He left New Orleans and went to Chicago, offering his abilities to the Special lead Chicago Outfit in exchange for money that he would put towards starting his club.

No stranger to crime thanks to his street days, Miles did everything they asked: transport, steal, etc. But when they tasked him with murdering a man in cold blood using his bullet curving technique he refused and was promptly branded a traitor. They tried to kill him but he was quick and escaped, spending months evading their men before an offer from a federal investigator found its way into his hands.

A man who's his actions were completely dictated by his passion and love for jazz, he realized that the Outfit would never let him play in peace and once again offered his abilities to a faction. This time however, Miles Teller was intent on it being the very last.
 
NAME: Nikolai Luzchezke
ALIAS: Red Son, Red Sun, Red, Sunny.
AGE: 33
GENDER: Male
APPEARANCE:
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PERSONALITY: Nikolai is a caring individual but will not show it, instead he will seek to mask the majority of his feelings with silence or a warped form of comedy. His native heritage often drives a wedge between him and the majority of his American peers and as such he chooses to remain distant from the majority of them.

POWERS/ABILITIES:
Pyrokenetic Manipulation and Projection-The user can create, shape and manipulate nuclear energy in the form of flames. Nikolai is capable of producing fire from his body and managing that fire. In extreme instances of his power he can produce massive amounts of pyrokenetic energy at great cost to his energy. In other cases he can absorb energy.

Nikolai was also a talented combatant serving in the 2nd Army under General Alexander Samsonov. Samsonov even wrote that he was considered one of his finest soldiers in a letter to Tsar Nikolas the II.

HISTORY: Nikolai was raised in a normal Russian home, he was the oldest male and had two younger brothers. His mother and father told him when he was growing up that he had a fire in him, and often that fire got him burned. Constantly as a child he was subject to inconvenience after inconvenience, things seemed to always work against him. It wasnt until he turned 16 and the first World War came around and he was subject to conscription and forced to serve in the 2nd Army under General Samsonov. The 2nd army was dispatched to East Prussia. They advanced slowly into the south-western corner of East Prussia, intending to link up with General Rennenkampf's forces, which had started advancing from the north-east section. However, lack of communication between the two hindered co-ordination. But German intelligence had intercepted their wireless communications and surrounded the forces of General Samsonov. The German forces closed in on them with some units being captured and others killed entirely. Nikolai and his unit had fought hard, suffered many losses and survived many retreats. Through their losses the General had grown more and more unstable, with each loss distributing his forces foolishly. Nikolai saw some combat before during their march into Prussia, having been on the front lines of several attacks on smaller German encampments, but in that single day he saw more death than most men see in their entire lives. As the german forces began to close their encirclement on the town of Willenberg the General began to lose his mind. It was one evening that the young Nikolai heard a gunshot from inside the house and ran inside to find the General dead with a revolver in his hands and a hole in his head. From there he and others ran, stripping himself of any distinguishable Russian clothing. Fleeing to the woods with nothing but a shirt and his issued pants. He carried the knife he'd been issued in his hand but nothing else. He heard the crack of rifle fire and then men screaming, some close to him and some far behind him. He was pumping his legs faster than he had ever before. After many hours he was tired and morning came, and with the light came the realization that he had been alone. The sun rising as he saw a river not far from him. His legs felt like rubber under him as he plodded down next to the river, with intense thirst he drank and drank until he felt himself wretch. Then he drank more, scooping water into his mouth until he heard the crack of a twig. Without a second thought he whipped around his blade already unsheathed and in his hand. What he saw was a girl near his age and a woman old enough to be her mother. He thought to how insane he must have looked, covered in dirt with his medium length hair part wet from water and the other from sweat. It was only out of fear he didnt apologize for his appearance, and only out of confusion did they not ask. He knew who these people were, they were Prussians, or rather Polish. He knew they had to speak some Russian but made no effort to speak, the fear of what could happen if they had soldiers nearby. The three stood for what felt like hours, but couldnt have been more than minutes. He heard sounds, the bark of dogs and the shouting of men. The girl spoke to her mother hurriedly then the mother looked at Nikolai and waved him towards them as she began walking away from the stream. He stood stock still with his knife still in his hand. The girl looked at him pleadingly and he understood, they wanted to help him, spare him from the soldiers. He looked at her for a moment and heard the dogs getting louder. He was suddenly filled with new life as he sprinted towards them. They led him to a shack in the woods where he found an older man and a young boy.

Years later they'd taught him Polish and he'd improved their Russian. Having lived with them for so long he had grown accustomed to them and even taken a liking to the girl. She was fair skinned and had blue eyes with stark black hair. Her features seemed to call to him when he was any where near her and he couldnt help but staring. It was something of a joke with this new family of his. Though he constantly he wondered about his other family he was content. Then one day he woke and the house was in flames, he was in flames as well. Burning intensely but he felt nothing, but nothing was not the right word. He felt powerful, it was with a timid hand he reached out and saw he himself was producing the fire. He looked around for he feared that his new family was in danger and he quickly shouted for them to wake and leave. He ran through the house checking every bed, all were empty. He figured that they must have ran outside and did the same. When he exited the scorching building he saw them, safe and sound. Wrapped in blankets with some of their valuables in their hands they stared in terror at him. The young girl was crying and the mother was comforting her. The father saw him and understood he was alive and quickly ran to him with a blanket in hand. The man began smothering Nikolai with the blanket in an effort to suffocate the flames but to no avail. Nikolai shouted for the man to stop, he knew what this was. He had seen men do strange things during the war, men with unnatural abilities. The girl continued to cry as she watched him burning, shouting for her father to put him out. Nikolai tried to explain to her but she was in hysterics, incapable of understanding what he was trying to say. He wanted to approach her but as he took a step he saw the mother and son recoil. They were afraid. The father stood as close to him as possible but could offer no help, he had never seen such a thing. Then it dawned on him what he must do. He turned and walked away. For days he walked, burning until he could burn no more. The thought of going back never crossed his mind, he had ruined their lives and that girl could never love him in that state. So he continued walking, eventually he found himself in towns with Italian signs. He had burned all his clothes off and walked naked through the streets until he was arrested. He didnt speak, he simply sat a broken man through their berating. One man took pity on him and granted him pants and a blanket to warm himself in the cold cell. After some time they released him at the edge of town, letting him continue on. Within a day he had found himself at a town called Genoa. He boarded a large ship and snuck below deck, finding a crate to hide in. He didnt care where he went, he only wanted to be as far away from them as he could. The ship made it's journey, throughout the journey he snuck from his crate hiding place to scavenge for food. And when they crew came through his compartment he climbed into the crate. Where they landed he did not know but he sat in the crate all the same. His crate was loaded onto another ship and he after a week at sea he was on land again.

This new land was the United States, where he found shady work and difficulty sustaining himself. He then turned to a life of crime, working first as a hired hand then one evening there was a conflict at the warehouse he was working in. Shots were fired and he was caught in the crossfire. As he took cover behind a crate a man fell next to him with a bullet through his neck. Nikolai quickly picked up the mans revolver and checked it's cylinders. He had 5 shots remaining. He peaked above the cover and aimed with his eyes aligned with the gun at the nearest man. He squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil of the gun before ducking again behind the crate for cover. He saw a bullet rip through the wood near his face and saw black coffee grounds coming out of it. He looked down at his hand and saw fire burning in it. He peaked above the cover and aimed it towards the nearest combatant, he willed the fire to burst out at the man and saw a ball of hot fire engulf the man. The man fell screaming clutching at his chest and face as it melted off of his body. Nikolai aimed the hand adorned with a pistol at another man and squeezed the trigger. The man's chest erupted in blood and then Nikolai squeezed the trigger again, the second bullet tore through his skull. Another man caught several bullets to his chest and then the last began to ran. Nikolai aimed his pistol at the man and squeezed the trigger two more times. The shots landed in his kidney then his shoulder. The men who had been tasked with protecting the warehouse thanked him and the next day when he reported for work he was called into the foreman's office. When he entered the foremans office he found a batty looking man, but the man stood firm. The foreman wasnt in his own chair so it was clear the man was clearly of importance.

"Hello there boyo, they tell me you're called Nikolai." The man said an irish accent ever so prevalent, "My name is William Lovett, but my friends call me Billy and my enemies call me Wild Bill. I'm 'da' leader of the White Hang Gang, I'm sure you've heard of us. Michael here tells me you've had a run of bad luck with them bloody German bastards, then some italians back over seas. 'Dos men you killed yesterdee' they were Italians, worked for the Black Hand, our Sicilian competitors."

Nikolai was silent, he understood English but he had no words to say. He didnt think anything of this man before him. He had no real problem with those Italians save that they had shot at the people who were going to pay him. It had been mostly instinct that compelled him to act. But this man was serious about speaking with him. For good reason.

"Look, wif da state of affairs being how it is with your kind on both sides I could use one of you under my employ. Some of my competitors have people with 'dose special abilities you lot got. I need ya boyo." The man said his fingers interlocked on the desk.

"I could do this," Nikolai said forcing his accent to be understandable, "But I no hurt good people, only gangsters."

With these few words Nikolai was made a professional hit-man for the White Hand Gang and he managed to execute a number of targets before encountering arrest. He built a reputation for himself and his abilities. People grew to fear him and a police profile was put on him for months. They tracked him carefully and took him apart through his associates. Taking down his weapons suppliers and fixers for hits, then eventually closing in on him. He had no choice but to continue on as normal, he had nowhere to go and no contacts outside the White Hand, but eventually he was caught. The police found him as he was approaching a target and he knew better than to go against them. If he killed the police more would come and put him down quickly. He knew he couldnt run so he put his hands up and was escorted into the back of the paddy wagon. Since going through processing he has sat in a specialized cell to keep him from burning out and getting away.
 
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NAME: Franchesca Dubois
STAGE NAME/ALIAS: Camille
AGE: 23
GENDER: Female
PERSONALITY: Franchesca is sultry and sweet but just as likely to put a knife in a man's back as she is to caress him. She has seen the world for what it is, a cesspool of vice and greed but instead of trying to fix it (at least up until recently) she's adjusted to it well. Some might say she's even embraced it. Franchesca is blunt, worldly and unafraid to speak her mind, all together making a confident albeit confrontational woman.

POWERS/ABILITIES:
  • Adaptive Appearance - Franchesca's most prominent and perhaps strongest ability is the power to shift her body into any other humanly form, changing her voice, appearance and body structure at will. A master of disguise, Franchesca's use this power to her benefit as an exotic pole dancer -- being a different woman essentially every night. This is where her stage name comes from.
  • Enhanced Agility - As an exotic dancer, Franchesca possesses the necessary amount of physical strength, grace and agility to properly pole dance and more. She believes her natural athleticism is a product of being a Special.
  • Sleeplessness - Ever since she discovered her powers, Franchesca realized that she has virtually no need to sleep, allowing her to continue living her life without suffering health decline from sleep deprivation. Despite this, Franchesca still occasionally goes to bed but just due to the normality of it -- sleep has no effect on her energy.
HISTORY:
Franchesca first moved from France to the United States with her father and mother when she was only seven years old. Her parents were looking for the American dream. Growing up as an immigrant life was difficult for the girl however as very early on she had difficulty learning the language to the point where she still has a faint accent in the present.


But the American dream was just that -- a dream. Reality had it so her father was a constant and unluckily poor gambler and her mother was more often than not sickly. While her father was off at the brothel it was Franchesca who was taking care of her frail mom.

Franchesca realized her powers early on and told no one but her mother. She would perform plays for the bed-ridden woman, shifting into the different characters to play the various parts in order to entertain her mom. But by the time Franchesca became of age, her mother's time was done and she passed away. Her father was heartbroken but Franchesca felt no compassion for him; leaving him the day after without so much as a farewell. That was the last time she ever saw him.

She took a train to Chicago and tried looking for work but a French immigrant who didn't even finish her primary education was hardly a promising looking employee. Franchesca turned to the red light district, taking up and mastering the art of pole dancing which first found its way into the strip tease at the height of the depression. Her ability to change herself into what any man wanted rung well with the morally bankrupt of the city and she found success.

But as popular as her acts might have been she felt hollow inside as she spun gracefully up there for countless of men she could not care any less about. So when she was approached by the feds for her ability to effectively disguise herself as any other person she was quick to jump on the opportunity. "Camille," she said when they asked her what she wanted to be called. "As in the chameleon."
 
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@HellHoundWoof Thank you! Accepted.

@BearEnthusiast Camille is also accepted!

Now, I may as well say this here, since I've received a similar inquiry; everyone's entitled to a second character, if they so choose.



Also, roster updated.
 
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Aye. Coming out of retirement for this.
 
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