Saint Joseph School

He almost laughed.

He almost laughed when the flash-bang sailed into the room and struck his Home Room teacher right upside the head. The flash-bang stunned him just long enough, and the rest of the folks in the room. Then they cut the lights. The High-Concentration CS that followed didn't help much, either.

The first few bursts of automatic fire went wide, WAY wide, taking out a row of windows and some AV equipment. The second burst clipped his shoulder, his side, took some meat with it, the faint green light of his nanites' photocells firing obscured by the smoke and gas and chaos.

Someone screamed.

He let the momentum of the impact throw him to the ground. He didn't see his parents. He activated the recovery beacon Minerva, his Longbow "Case Worker" had given him.

The first few members of the recovery team filed quickly through the door to the classroom; easily mistaken for SWAT in their paramilitary uniforms, until you noticed the next-generation tech they were packing, the dull sheen of powered armor. Not one of them spoke a word, which made it easier for him not to think of them as human. Just boots, protective masks, and guns. His enhanced metabolism quickly adjusted to the smoke and trauma, stimulating healing, adapting his vision, manufacturing new tissue to replace what was lost; it tickled a bit, like a foot falling asleep.

As the recovery team entered the room, he placed himself in position near the door. Those masks the team wore kept the CS out, but those optics were definitely not top of the line. Along the way, he passed his parents. His enhanced vision saw a woman's (mother?!) eyes becoming glassy, dull, like the marbles he'd played with when he was small. She was laying in a pool of something dark. It was sticky as he crawled through past her.

It didn't make what happened next any more pleasant, but in retrospect, he could at least assign what he did next some meaning.

His knives slid free from his knuckles, as the nanocolony hit him with a blast of adrenaline enhancers. A part of him, the kid part of him, screamed and cried and grieved. Then the battle-fugue set in, and the he entered the grey place, where he watched his body work. Disinterested at best, it kept him calm while he did what needed to be done to ensure his survival.

That powered armor wasn't as hard to cut through as he had first thought.

He started with the one in the back. When it was over, he sank heavily onto the floor. He sat quietly and waited for his case worker. His blood sang in his ears, a testament to his survival.

One of his foes moaned something unintelligible. That one probably wouldn't walk again. The rest, he surmised, could make full recoveries, if they had a decent surgeon.

He felt ill, but the nanocolony wouldn't let him throw up.

When she arrived, Minerva gave him a rough hug, said some things he couldn't hear. Maybe she was sorry. She stood him up, and walked him from the building. The requisite crowd had gathered out front behind the barriers and yellow tape, fell silent as they exited. Not one person would meet his eyes. No one said a word.

When they reached her vehicle, he spoke.

"I told you."

She caught his eyes with hers.

"You had to try, MC. Besides, you know your parents would never have agreed to protective custody." A sharp sigh. "No matter where you went, they would have come after you. We just don't have the resources..."

He challenged her with his silence. After a moment, she spoke.

"We'll find someplace for you. In Paragon City, probably."

He hesitated.

"Do I have a choice?"

Now it was her turn to pause.

"No," she uttered softly, and said nothing more.

(OOC)

Right, so to follow in the footsteps of others who post songs to provide a little "insight" into their character, I present to you the song "My Assassin" by Cub!

-Mis

My Assassin
from "Betti Cola", Mint Records

My assassin lives beneath my bed
He tells me things that haven't happened yet
His breath is warm, his hands are clean
His skin is made of sugar sweet enough to eat

My assassin walks along beside me
He holds a little knife just to remind me
That everything's precarious
And love is never near enough to save you

My assassin, my assassin
He's my best friend in the whole wide world

My assassin covers me with water
He says that fire's faster but it's hotter
So six of this and six of that
And in the end you're right back where you started

My assassin, my assassin
Holds my hand and keeps me laughing
My assassin, my assassin
He's my best friend in the whole wide world

P.S. I like the Registration form Annie and November chose, so I'll try to update that soon.

St. Joseph School Superpowered Youth Registration Form
“Today’s students are tomorrow’s heroes”
Prepared by: Codename: MINERVA, Longbow Field Analyst / Nullifier

Alias: Misericorde
AKA: Mis, MC
Name: Michael Corde
Age: 17
Birthplace: Stuttgart, Germany (U.S. Citizen)

Origin of Powers: "Designer" Organs, Advanced Hand-to-Hand Combat Training.

Powers/Abilities: Misericorde's entire body structure is highly adaptive. Respiratory and Cardiovascular systems are hundreds of times more efficient than a human of his gender and age. Misericorde metabolizes 92% of his daily caloric intake, and he does not create fatigue poisons. Synovial fluid is enhanced to be nearly 100% efficient; tendons possess the tensile strength of titanium analogs...with bones enhanced to withstand the shock of his enhanced musculature. An undisclosed regenerative ability can also restore massive traumas, including missing limbs, organs, etc. The resulting energy is dissipated via a mild photoelectric reaction.

Misericorde can produce three twenty-four inch claws from each hand, as personal defense weapons. These blades can vary in flexibility and sharpness. Currently, there are few constructs that the blades cannot pierce, given time to adapt (and practice.)

Misericorde also possesses enhanced sensory input on-demand. He is well trained in a variety of infiltration techniques, and is well-versed in common counter-intelligence devices and practices.

Interestingly, Misericorde occasionally enters a "controlled psychotic response" when he percieves a threat, conciously or subconciously. This is a modified fight or flight response; making him a dangerous, unpredictable adversary.

Currently, Misericorde's abilities are restrained by certain "blocks" provided as a failsafe. As he proves himself capable of mastering his abilities, the blocks will be removed by Freedom Phalanx cadre members.

LONGBOW NOTES:

Michael was born on a U.S. Army base in Germany, with a highly compromised immune system. His parents, researchers into nanomachine technologies died soon after in a suspicious lab accident...after Michael's complete recovery. Adopted by a family in Virginia, the boy lived a relatively normal life until age five or six, when he was abducted by a radical group of self-proclaimed "Heroes" known as "The Hood," a very radical splinter sect of the Roman Catholic Church.

This organization was apparently more resourceful than current intelligence suggests, as an unknown number of children were abducted at roughly the same time, all with similar case histories. Only Michael Corde survived, to date.

Apparently "The Hood" has been in operation for centuries, utilizing highly trained cells of operatives and "sleeper agents" to combat what they term "those tainted by the Devil, Lilith, and their children."

The Hood originally relied on training and hedge magics to turn these "monsters" preferred prey - children - into hunters of those who would prey upon them. Unfortunately, it has since come to light that, much like other Inquisitions, many innocent metahumans had come to be hunted by this organization.

This organization may have become the root of the popular "Red Riding Hood" fairy tale. It is also believed that this group may have used the the so-called "Children's Crusades" as cover for their operations.

Misericorde - Michael - was recovered eight years later after Operation Schwarzwald. This newest incarnation of The Hood was responsible for brutal attacks upon metahumans around the United States and Western Europe. During the "Black Forest Incident," Michael managed to throw off his conditioning and allowed a joint Wyvern/Longbow task force access to The Hood's lair.

Michael was "deprogrammed" by his Longbow "handler," Minerva, and returned to the custody of his parents in Cincinnati, Ohio. His parents refused protective custody. In March of 2006, a cell of Hood agents launched a failed attempt to recover Misericorde, resulting in a significant number of civilian casualties, including his adoptive parents. As such, Longbow has transferred Michael Corde to Paragon City.

Despite the trauma Michael has endured, he seems relatively well-adjusted to alterations in his environment. Something of a "social chameleon," Michael adapts to changes in his social scenery almost as quickly as his body adapts to threats.

The only real concern is the "battle-fugue" his enhanced metabolism enters when he percieves a threat. Designed to function independently, his combat response can sometimes lead him to difficulties in the team-oriented environment.

Personal Note:

David, he's a good egg.
Please take good care of him.

MINERVA

OOC Update: (Last edited 12/20/2006)

Rumors: Something about Francis Cross and a Broom Closet.

Rank: Upperclassman.

Dorm: Quad Five, Male Dorms

Common Knowledge: Michael Corde was recently banned from extracurricular activities for leaving the country without permission; most of the students who have been at SJS are aware that Michael is on conditional release from Ziggursky prison, and that leaving the country violated his parole. Many of the students have noted that Michael has been "angry" of late, and is "not acting like himself," after a recently foiled attempt by parties unknown to poison the students with Outbreak mutagen, resulting in the injury of his girlfriend, Francis Cross.

Uncommon Knowledge: Misericorde is a "designer human," developed to contain various biological payloads, and protect them until they were prepared for extraction or release. A personification of "adapt, improvise, and overcome," his regenerative systems slowly develop (read: evolve) new countermeasures to external threats.

I am finally coming into some time to get some writing done again. To clarify some issues, since the tales could become a little convoluted, here is a little out-of character FAQ:

Was Mis in the Zig?
Yes, but no listing for a "Misericorde" exists there. Nor is there a listing for a "Michael Corde." He does know quite a bit about the Zig, though. Things only a former prisoner might know.

What about his return to the Zig in Greystone College?
That was an implanted memory gone wrong.

So how did Mis get back to school with no problems?
Suspicious, huh? Must be someone there on his side.

Does the criminal organization "The Hood" exist?
No. Also, it never did.

What about Brother Hood?
Yes.

What about Scythian?
Yes.

What about Minerva?
Yes.

What about the events in Cincinnati that caused his transfer?
Oddly enough, it's not in the newspapers. Weird, huh?

Did Mis ever work for Longbow?
No more than any other hero.

What was the deal with DARE?
Yeah, they never did figure out who attached that stuff to the watering system. Really, there were only two ways to get that Outbreak virus. Either a villain planted it, or someone confiscated it from a villain and planted it. Weird.

How did people hear about his being a mask-killer?
Oddly enough, they can't ever tell you specifically who they heard it from. Just that they know. If pressed for who exactly he killed or any real details, they become very upset and refuse to discuss it further.

Why is a person like this in SJS anyway?
Michael is 17 years old, biologically speaking. He is no less stable than any other 17 year old. He works a part-time job, has a girlfriend, and turns his homework in on-time. He spends a lot of time assisting around the chapel, but rarely attends services. He is moody and intense, but has never actually threatened anyone. Michael goes to counseling about twice as often as other students...and ONLY with Doctor Conrads. Ms. Atwood puts her pencils down when Michael enters the room. Always.

Any other questions, I'll try to field them in this thread.