A Bloodstained Mantle

Wiping the tears of laughter from your eye you step forward towards the wall as your other hand grows and writhes as muscles bulge and foot long claws grow from the tip of each finger.

The metal gives way with a screech, the noise ending as you finally carve enough of a door for it to be completed with a single kick which sends steel sailing through the air and skipping along the concrete before it finally comes to a stop.

You wince at the clatter, cringing at your mistake, someone would be… apoplectic something if you did that in front of them, the memories keep slipping through your fingers, and they feel like they're getting more distant with every passing second.

Nonetheless you glance around the area as your arm shrinks back down to its normal size and the claws vanish, you seem to be in the middle of a labyrinth of run down junk, cars and trucks and crates, all of them rusted or completely wrecked, below you is a beach, where the concrete ramp down is replaced by covered sand and the call of seagulls fills your ears, and up above you, the distant sounds of activity fill this city's port.

Regardless of where exactly you are, you're going to be having a little bit of finding anyone with all this stuff in the way, with a flex of will you sharpen your ears and nose, a sniff and a twitch of your ears confirming that nobody was close enough to hear your mistake, well, unless they've got powers like you, but that feels unlikely to you somehow. It should, you read up on every super who lives here and nobody can do what you do.

That sniff also alerts you to the fact that you desperately need a bath but more importantly it tells you that something delicious is nearby, and so with the deafening roar of a rumbling stomach in your ears you wander away from your metal prison, the smell of bacon beckoning you forward like a siren song.

With swift yet silent steps you close in the source of the smell, the wind rushing past you, sending your sewage soaked hair whipping back and forth with every sudden turn as you navigate the junkyard before you leap into the air and out of the junkyard entirely, landing like a cat on top of a full crate waiting to be moved, finally giving you a good look at the city.

With newly sharpened vision you carefully scan the city, at first glance it seems normal enough, buildings of blue coral and living wood dot the cityscape, mostly crowded out by structures of brick and stone with a few skyscrapers in the business part of town.

The city itself is built around a bay, with a half dozen little islands scattered around the bay each covered by mansions which are carefully circumnavigated by more boats than you can count, large and small.

But the thing which really draws your eyes is an enormous cannon on the opposite side of the bay facing the ocean, its barrel larger than some of the smaller fishing boats. Wow, it looks a lot bigger in person.

The coils around it quietly crackling with lightning, each spark setting you more and more on edge until you pull your gaze away from this weapon which proudly wields your greatest weakness.

it really really hurt last time

As you take a second look at the city you begin to notice a few large, squat, buildings, no, that's not right, bunkers, each of them clearly visible and numbered in large white numbers on their armored doors.

For a moment you're tempted to investigate those places more but another sniff of food realigns your priorities, the bunkers aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

You leap into the air again, fighting the urge to whoop as you sail through the air and land with a whisper as you finally find yourself at the place which smells like bacon.

A glowing neon sign hangs over the building, announcing itself as Phill's Piping Hot Pizzeria. Now with extra bacon!!

Your stomach rumbles and for a moment you consider walking right in there and buying one of those, but a quick rummage through your pockets ends with you only holding an old flip phone fried by lightning, and exactly three dollars in loose change, still dripping with rot.

Actually now that you've taken a moment to check yourself out you notice that almost everything you're wearing shows signs of electrical burns, serious ones, frankly it's a miracle you're wearing anything more than ashes and filth right now.

Disheartened, you eventually you come up with an idea, dismissing your enhanced hearing for a moment to avoid any distractions as you instead adhere yourself to the roof and hang off the side to spy through a window, hoping to get some advanced warning of an opportunity, they do delivery right? You can probably steal from the back of the truck, you think as you grow a camouflaged skin cloak to hide from anyone who might have the sense to look up at you.

So absorbed are you in your spying that you don't realize that you're not alone up here anymore until somebody decides to make their presence known with a few words spoken from so close by that in this hard to reach spot they might as well have been whispered in your ear.

"Hello… can I ask you what exactly you're doing?" What happens next is almost entirely reflexive, it's only after you turn to face him that you realize that your freshly spiked and hideously muscular fist has already struck him squarely in the chest with a thunderous impact.

That strike sends him flying backwards for a moment before he halts his momentum and comes to a stop in the air as you finally get a good look at him, floating a mere ten feet away from you.

The man is tall, with short brown but slightly graying hair and a short, salt and pepper beard, his muscular physique showing clearly through red and gold spandex as he settles into a fighting position midair.

Even as you you at him, preparing for battle, you're suddenly gripped by the thought that you need to tell him… something important, whatever that is.

Yes! yes, finally, you had a whole plan, now all you have to do is remember why you came here and tell him about-

Unfortunately for you he took that blow head on without even noticing and now he looks angry, even worse you're going to need a little bit of time to shape a body better suited for fighting before he returns the strike with interest.

"Who are you?" You ask him, hoping to buy a little bit of time as he explains.

That question seems to bring him up short, confusion clouding him face. "Oh, are you from out of town? I'm pretty well known around here." He says, although something about the way people gathering below are pointing up at him makes you think he's underselling himself.

You shrug, "uh… I guess you could say that, I don't really remember much, about anything really." As you speak you begin preparing your body for war, hiding suddenly bulging muscles, rapidly thickening bones and thick, almost elephantine skin beneath a now loose cloak of camouflaged skin, ready to be discarded the moment you spring into action

He pauses for a moment, scanning your face for deception, before seeming to believe you, "Wait, how far back can you remember?" He asks, the curiosity on his face masking what your 'training' instincts tell you is a sort of confusion slowly mixing with dawning horror and the slightest bit of pity.

"Oh, yeah, a long time." you say, seeing no reason to lie. "Maybe… twenty minutes?" You say, although now that you say it out loud it doesn't seem like quite as long as it sounded in your head.

"But that's besides the point! Who are you and why did you sneak up behind me like that?" You ask, meeting his eyes with a glare as the people below you start to take pictures.

The stranger holds up his hands where you can see them and lowers himself slightly so that he's at eye level with you before he begins to speak in a consolatory tone.

"I'm very sorry about that, to answer your questions my name is Adamant, my job is to protect this city, and I went to ask you what you were doing because I saw someone I didn't recognize jumping from rooftop to rooftop and wanted to be sure that you weren't going to punch an old tennis rival of yours through a building or something, I also was not trying to sneak up on you, but I do apologize that I was not more obvious."

Another camera flashes below you and Adamant sighs, "Would you be willing to have this conversation somewhere else? They're just going to keep doing that."

At your nod he points toward a tall brick building which stands on an island of its own far away from any other structure, connected to the shore by a bridge, you had thought it was one of the mansions but on second glance it definitely seems less aesthetically focused. "That's my house, over there, would you be willing to follow me there to continue this conversation?"

You stare suspiciously at him for a moment, "I promise it's not a trap of any sort," He says, "it's just a place with some privacy."

Well, it's not like you were going to go anywhere else, and who knows, maybe he'll be able to tell you who you are. "Ok, I'm trusting you," you say as you make your way towards it, allowing Adament to take the lead as he flies above you and you follow him, leaping from rooftop to rooftop before dashing across the shoddily constructed bridge to arrive on the island.

Once you both arrive he invites you over to a pair of chairs, sits you down, pulls out a notebook from a pouch on his belt, and begins to ask you some questions.

"Ok, you said that you can't remember anything up to around, twenty, now about twenty five minutes ago, but you obviously remember at least a little bit since you know English and remember how to walk, so do you remember your name, or where you're from or anything like that?" He asks, with an easy confidence that implies he's done this sort of thing for years.

You slump back into your chair, "Nope, nothing but some vague impressions, and before you ask I wasn't carrying anything when I woke up other than this." You say as you hand him the fried flip phone.

He flips it over in his hands, checking for clues. "Well, this is certainly a cheap burner phone but it's basically useless now, anything on it got zapped like you did."

Nevertheless he puts it away in a little bag before he continues questioning you.

"The place where you woke up, did that area look like there'd been a fight, either there or somewhere nearby? Because it certainly looks like you got into a fight with another superhuman, unless you got snared by a power line or something."

Once again you slump deeper into your seat. "Sorry, no fight and no power lines. I can show you where I got knocked out though, it was in this crate with a hole in the roof somewhere in that direction." You answer, pointing in its general direction. "I, uh, also carved a hole in the wall not just the wall to get out if that helps you find it."

He nods, committing it to memory, "Two more things, first of all, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you haven't found a place to stay yet?"

"No," comes your deadpan response, "I did not manage to find a place to stay with twenty minutes to search and no money."

He smiles, gesturing to the building behind him, "well then, consider this a solution to your problem, as the highest ranking and only full time member in the city I'm happy to say that STAR is more than willing to extend an offer for you to stay here and pay for your meals for a few months while we try to figure out who exactly you are, so long as you don't break anything or hurt anyone."

"Wait what-" you say, only to be interrupted as Adamant continues.

"Secondly, I understand that this is probably a pretty personal question since you don't really know me but is it possible you might have the ability to hide memories in items or that you have a bunch of evidence hidden in a pocket dimension? Sorry for being intrusive but I do have to ask, a few years back I lost a lot of time on exactly both of those situations."

That gives you pause for thought, you can't exactly put a memory in an object but if you were going to hide something… you cast a metaphorical eye down at the inner workings of your body and find a cushioned pocket of flesh uselessly safely ensconced in your ribcage.

Opening an eye inside of this pocket reveals a throughly fried USB drive, and a pile of charred dollar bills which after a moment of thought you decide to share, your ribcage opening wide and dropping the flesh sack's contents right in front of him. "Sorry." You say, smiling awkwardly, "I swear I didn't notice that until you mentioned it."

Adament stares down at the pile of junk you just ejected from your stomach for a moment and gets about halfway through a thank you when his phone rings and he takes the call with an apologetic look.

"Ok what is it?" A short pause. "You're kidding, another one?" You fidget impatiently, waiting through a longer pause. "Ok, I'll be over there in a few minutes." He hangs up and turns to you, "Sorry, there's been another murder in the docks, a machete it looks like, I'll need to get over there as fast as I can, anyway-"

"Can I come along?" You interrupt, "I can boost- I mean, my senses are very good, maybe I can help."

He pauses for a moment, mulling it over. "You're willing to listen to me when I tell you to do something?"

"Sure." You answer sincerely, "That seems fine to me."

Adamant nods, "Ok, then follow me, oh, what should I call you?"

The question surprises you, but after a moment of thought you come up with something that sounds good.

"Oh, right, call me…"

O-O-O-O

That was the start of an amazing two years, pretty soon you made your arrangement with Adamant official, joining STAR within a few short months and passing every test thrown your way with flying colors, and after that you stood side by side with him, responding to emergencies, solving crimes, and even facing down more than a few supervillains, even as you faced dead end after dead end regarding your past.

Anyway, what's your name?

[ ] Protean
[ ] Menagerie
[ ] Chimera
[ ] pick your own:


No, I mean your real name. The one that you use when you're not in a mask.

[ ] Oh, of course, it's (name here)
[ ] The same one I literally just told you. (No civilian name or identity)

You really took to Adamant's lessons of investigation and combat like a fish to water, what else did you really excel at while you were working as Adamant's sidekick? (Pick 2)

[ ] Skills
-[ ] Social skills: Inspiring Hero (Improved Presence, persuasion, etc)
-[ ] Social skills: Terrifying Avenger (Improved Presence, intimidation, a little bit of stealth, etc)
-[ ] Stealth and sleight of hand (Improved stealth skills, Agility, Dexterity, slight of hand, etc)
-[ ] Mastered Investigation Skills (Extra improved Intelligence, Investigation, Insight, and Awareness.)
-[ ] Mastered Fighting Skills (Extra skill in unarmed combat, and extra combat advantages)


Note: just because you don't pick one of these doesn't mean that you can't do it, nor does it mean that you can't purchase it after character creation.

Why'd you offer to help (this doesn't have to be the only reason you decided to help, just the primary reason.)

[ ] Why'd you join STAR?
-[ ] People were in trouble, what else was I supposed to do? (Motivation: Doing Good)
-[ ] Because it sounded absolutely thrilling! (Motivation: Thrill)
-[ ] Because I have a deep and profound need to liked… Wait can I take that answer ba- (Motivation: Fame and Respect)


Please Vote By Plan.

Please let me know if there were any typos you found, or if there were any bits of the story that you found especially enjoyable or which you didn't like, I'm doing this to get better at writing after all.

Finally, thank you to everyone who helped me with all the names, and thank you to Deadman specifically for helping with the invisible text.