Post by Deleted on Jul 8, 2016 15:45:36 GMT
[PTabbedContent] [PTab=I.] [attr="class","appcat"]Civilian [/PTab={tab-background-color:#696969; padding-top:5px;height: 425px; background-color: #1c1d1e; text-align: center;] [PTab=II.] [attr="class","appcat"]profile [attr="class","apptext"] [/PTab={tab-background-color:#6e1f1f; height: 420px; background-color: #1c1d1e; padding:5px;text-align: justify;][attr="class","subcat1"]true name Clark Howe [attr="class","subcat"]aliases n/a [attr="class","subcat"]species Human [attr="class","subcat"]age Twenty-six [attr="class","subcat"]date of birth June 4, 1990 [attr="class","subcat"]place of birth Bronx [attr="class","subcat"]sex Male [attr="class","subcat"]gender Male [PTab=III.] [attr="class","appcat"]dossier [attr="class","apptext"] [/PTab={tab-background-color:#582f47;height: 420px; background-color: #1c1d1e; padding:5px;text-align: justify;][attr="class","subcat1"]psychological evaluation Positive[break]
[break][break] Negative[break]
[break][break] Life for a man who only sees horror and suffering is far from an experience imbedded with bliss and contentment. he's always worrying, always wondering what is happening on the outside; who might get hurt, even die today. A compassionate soul who just wants it all to STOP; just for a moment. Anxious and paranoid, he fears contact with someone else; he doesn't want to know, can't bare to see. Perhaps it is this reality that isolates him so. It's not what he will see, but who he will see. Family, friends, they all seem to become the focus of those visions, the pictures that blare in the back of his eyelids, burning and constraining all his attention until that was all he could see, hear, smell and taste. It's made him reclusive, made him shy and so very afraid. Better to stay locked up here, just out of sight, than see how the neighbour would die by accidentally brushing elbows. [break][break] He is the type to seek out distraction, anything to consume him thoughts, drown out the constant real that drove him near mad. It's why he had such a shitty job; it was simple, a careful balance between picking words and mundane button clicking. Strangely, it helped, and sometimes he could almost pretend it was just his imagination niggling for attention in the back of his mind. He can almost been seen as weird, so obsessive he is with anything he is doing. He doesn't just was to drown in the action; he needs to. [break][break] Resentful... Why did he have to have this ability of all abilities to have. why couldn't he have like... telepathy or something. At least that could be semi interesting. His world had been drenched in pain and suffering and death since he was a child. His own parents thought him odd, drawing such violent things when he was a child. It started small; mommy getting cut when making supper, daddy stepping on a tack. Than it expanded, seeing the nice woman that lived down the street getting in a car accident; the plane crashing into the sea, the missiles levelling a city across the world. It grew and grew, unconfined, and with it he became more withdrawn, more afraid. He couldn't control it, and perhaps that was what he hated most about it. [attr="class","subcat"]biographical details He was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a child. Sensory hallucinations, social withdrawal, disturbed thinking. It started out as strange coincidences, things he seen before they actually happened; little accidents that concerned those that lived around him. But as he grew, as he entered into his pre-teens, the visions became darker, larger, effecting more people than before. Perhaps it was a mistake to tell his parents, they never understood. It reached the point where he had to be institutionalized, breaking down into tears, raving out people suffering, hearing the sound of metal breaking and the smell of smoke and fire in his nose. The medication helped, for a time. It dulled the visions, allowing for him to have a semi-sane moment in his life. [break][break] But as he got older, as they got stronger, the effects of the antipsychotics began to fade, dropping him once more into the darkness. Those two years free from the judgement was cast aside as he was committed once again, desperate for some sort of relief. It was when he met the Doctor for the first time. They were the first that believed what he was experiencing wasn't some uncontrollable mental illness, but an ability unlike any they had seen. The Initiative had passed four years prior; people knew about superheroes. They believed he was like them. At first... he didn't want to believe it; after all, what kind of power was this? They asked him if she could test the theory, and he allowed it, one of the first times he had truly taken notice of what was being shown to him. The effects of a hero versus villain of all things; a building crumbling beneath the destruction they caused. An address, the face of a young girl. Two days later, the very same battle took place, leaving a block in the city of New York. [break][break] The Doctor helped him in many ways, learning small tricks to block out the visions to a level in which he could function. But... she wanted him to join the Initiative. How many people he could help; warning of tragedy days, hours, before it happened. He couldn't though... he wasn't ready to expose himself to the... power... at such a level. He stayed in connection with them, managing the effects of the visions, learning to lock them down and keep them down. Got a boring job as a telemarketer, staying home, away from everyone. [PTab=IV.] [attr="class","appcat"]powers [attr="class","apptext"] [/PTab={tab-background-color:#1f4654;height: 420px; background-color: #1c1d1e; padding: 5px;text-align:justify;][/PTabbedContent={width: 310px;tab-background-color:#1c1d1e;border-color:#1c1d1e;tabgap:1}][newclass=.appcat]background-color:#111;text-align:center;font-family:open sans condensed;text-transform:uppercase;font-weight:900;letter-spacing:1px;[/newclass][newclass=.apptext]height:390px; margin: 15px 5px 0px 5px; padding: 0px 15px; overflow: auto;[/newclass][newclass=.subcat]color:#e5e5e5;font-family: open sans condensed; margin: 15px 0px 5px -10px;text-transform:uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.subcat1]color:#e5e5e5;text-transform:uppercase;font-family: open sans condensed; margin: 0px 0px 5px -10px;[/newclass][attr="class","subcat1"]Precognition His greatest curse. He can... see things, tragedies before they happen, some big, some horrible and effecting so many. From things happening in mere moments, to days and weeks, it all depends upon the severity. Larger events he often sees long before they happen, often gaining several variations over the course leading up to the occurrence. Always a little bit different, the actions of the involved changing the outcome. When seeing things regarding his friends or family, they often appear and glaringly bright pictures, premonitions mere moments before it actually happens. They are so strong, so powerful, these visions. More then just faded pictures, they consume all that he is; his sight, his hearing, taste and feel. He could feel the scorch of flames licking on his skin, can feel the burn in his eyes from the smoke, hear the screams of the victims. The future is a fickle thing, changing on a whim; and Clark gets the 'privilege' of seeing every possible possibility. [break][break] [attr="class","subcat1"]Meditation More of a means of controlling his visions then anything else, Clark has learned to centre himself through focus, using it as a means of pushing the clarity of what he is seeing into the back of his thoughts. However, though he has never attempted it before, through careful medication he is capable of seeking specific events in the world, such as catching a glimpse of plans of those he has met prior. He has yet to broach this method, due to his own insecurity with his ability, and requires further development in plot. |