Post by Warren Worthington on Apr 11, 2010 12:35:42 GMT -5
Character Information
Real Name: Warren Kenneth Worthington, III
Mutant/Hero/Villain name: Angel, in the future: Archangel
Nick Name: Flyboy, War
Canon or custom: Canon
Age: 24
Place of Birth: Centerpoint, Long Island, NY
Nationality: US Citizen
Affiliation: X-Men, future alliance with Sinister
Rank/Occupation: Billionaire CEO & Playboy, Adventurer
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 150 lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
Build: Muscular but trim
Markings: One would be hard pressed to miss the wings that have grown from Warren's back. The wingspan stretches to sixteen feet and they consist of white feathers covering bone and connective tissues. The pin feathers are several feet long and allow him balance when gliding on the currents of air he likes to navigate in the sky. His eyes are a piercing blue and generally he has the looks of a matinee idol or super model. His body contains very little fat giving him an even more intimidating look in uniform.
Born with angelic looks, the cherubic child grew to become a handsome young man. Due to his mutation, Warren has enjoyed above average muscularity that gives him the appearance of an underwear model or natural body builder, with most of his muscle mass centered in his torso and upper arms. He considers himself perfect physically and many would agree as he stands at the perfect six foot in height. He weighs much less than might be expected at 150 pounds, largely due to his hollow bone structure. He keeps his blond hair in the latest style, just as he does his clothing. Though he must have his shirts and jackets altered to account for the wings that have protruded from his shoulder blades since puberty. In the wake of Apocalypse's mutilation of him, his arms are also fairly large, something that also must be considered in his clothing.
His eyes match the clear blue sky on a summer's day and for much of his life his outward disposition was much the same. The white feathered appendages that first emerged at puberty did nothing but add to his already heavenly appearance. Though he grew to love flight and the freedom that such excursions presented the young heir, the public life of the industrial prince charming forced Warren to hide his very obvious mutation beneath specially designed clothing. Despite feelings that his mutation made him a freak in certain circles, Warren continued to maintain his outward confidence and charm.
Even though he had always carried himself with pride, the weight of the wings hold his upper body erect, almost inhumanly stiff. With the added muscle in his chest, this posture also can give him the appearance of a strutting peacock. The wide berth of his muscular upper body and narrow hips gives Warren a powerful. lean yet physically imposing presence. His skin is tanned in a natural way that compliments perfect teeth that are often exposed during one of his charismatic smiles. Bright eyes sparkle with life even as they question the world around them now. The sheltered youth is growing into something greater than he might have without a healthy does of strife, a hero. Emotionally transparent, Warren's body language reveals his ever changing moods as he continues to struggle with his inner demons.
as Archangel - Warren's skin will deepen into various shades of blue (depending on time in the sun - darker in summer, lighter in winter or when kept indoors) that help him better camouflage himself in the sky or in the shadows. His eyes will changes as well, the membranes in his eyes that allow him to see like an eagle will take on a more opaque form, giving his eyes a pupil-less, colorless virtually all white look when he is focusing them. His wings will be altered equally, giving him an altogether monstrous appearance by comparison.
Known Relatives: Warren Kenneth Worthington the second, Kathryn Worthington, (parents); Uncle Burtram Worthington.
Powers:
flight -
Warren's primary mutation has given him the ability to fly via natural wings. The bird-like appendages naturally took the form of white feathered wings that first grew from his shoulder blades at fourteen and over a period of weeks grew to their mature wingspan of just over sixteen feet. Each eight foot wing has the ability to work in conjunction with or independently of it's partner at his mere thought. Highly flexible and strong, Warren's wings can crush a healthy adult male's bones with a flick. The strength inherent within these wings is untested, yet, an average goose is capable of breaking a the bones in that same healthy adult man's arm cleanly with very little effort. These wings can be compressed quite easily against his back, though he sometime wears a leather harness to better conceal them.
The rest of his body is adapted for flight as well. Hollow bones, adaptive hearing and above average muscularity(especially in his torso) combine with naturally low body fat percentages and specially adaptive eyes to make Warren a strong, aerodynamic flying machine. Membranes over his eyes allow him to see great distances with eagle keen clarity and to withstand the pressure of the high speed flights he has become known for. He can read the headline on the page of a newspaper on the New Jersey shore while standing on Liberty Island, for example.
He does this by actively focusing and gaining a sort of tunnel vision completely different from his normal, more human, way of seeing. For Warren, this is truly a manifestation of his 'eagle keen eyes.' It works best in short bursts, not something he can comfortably maintain for more than the time it takes him to seek out a landmark along the sprawling landscape beneath him.
His lungs are capable of extracting oxygen from altitudes approaching 30,000 feet, though much higher than that and Warren will begin to lose consciousness. He prefers, however, to maintain a more comfortable 'cruising' altitude of around 10,000 feet. He can only maintain his peak altitude for a matter of moments and sustained flight is possible for a maximum of twelve to fourteen hours. His high metabolism requires that he ingest nourishment regularly or he will grow dangerously weak. He prefers to eat small, healthy meals as his body does not handle food toxins well as they make him feel sluggish. The same could be said for larger meals.
blood borne healing factor -
A secondary mutation takes the form of a property within his blood that not only keeps Angel in peak health but may also be used to heal those with a compatible blood type. His blood type is O positive, the universal donor. He must cut himself for others to benefit, as the blood must enter the other person's wound or blood stream to become effective.
as Archangel -
Once transformed into the much darker, more evolved version of himself, Warren's wings will become organic, regenerative razor sharp metal enabling him to fly faster and farther than ever before. Traveling at speeds of up to if not exceeding Mach 1, Worthington will enjoy a more active healing factor enabling him to act more recklessly and aggressively. He can still be injured, of course, but he will be more resilient. The difference for him is being able to actively slice and fly his way through structure like walls, ceilings, floors or even safe doors without injury. His wings will be living weapons, functioning at times like swords or even detachable feather knife like darts containing neural toxins that may temporarily render his victims physically paralyzed. He will become a truth stealth fighter, often able to attack from the air before those on the ground know what hits them. Finally, he will enjoy enhanced strength, stamina, agility, muscularity and his skin will become unnaturally blue. This will be a permanent genetic alteration, however in the future, his own mutagenic healing factor may allow him brief periods where he may seemingly revert back to his natural form.
Abilities:
]Angel is a capable pilot and expert tactician. An extremely adept hand to hand fighter as he has the advantage of an extra set of limbs with which to fight. This is only more obvious in the air as he has bested such fast fliers as the Human Torch by edging them out with his agility and in some cases speed. A keen business mind rests squarely between his ears as well. He is an expert at fencing and sword play. His natural charm is only enhanced by his fine tuned sense of etiquette, fashion sense, and financial savvy. Warren speaks several languages with ease, though he is strongest at English, French, Italian, Russian and Japanese.
Weakness:
Warren needs room to fly and to maneuver those ever impressive wings. While one of the best hand to hand fighters in the air and able to out fly such formidable heroes as the Human Torch, in enclosed spaces Warren is at a disadvantage. In these situation, in many ways, he is no different than any ordinary human male. Albeit one with above average musculature and strength yet the burden of wings he cannot fully utilize. He does the best he can with what he has and yet he has faced his fair share of tragedy and tests. As a result, as said previously, he isn't always the smooth, confident man he wishes to portray to the world at large.
Although he loves flying and can't imagine life without his precious wings, Warren may have once been willing to trade it all for the chance to be 'normal.' His personality has become darker and it has been a fight to reclaim not only his true self but also the trust of his fellow X-Men. At times his wings have seemed to have a mind of their own and acted accordingly. More often than not this is a result of some unresolved inner turmoil and untapped aggression.
Warren has workaholic tendencies and may use work and his responsibilities as an excuse or well-timed escape. Warren is a risk taker and because of that he may make decisions without thinking them through completely. He has a tendency to believe his own good press and privileged upbringing and doesn't always realize the danger he may be in or put others in as a result.
Paraphernalia and Equipment:
He owns several homes, a few of which are equipped with anything an on the go superhero might need. The basics include hidden storage for his uniforms, a high tech computer system that can be used to connect directly to the systems at Worthington and to the Shi'Ar influenced equipment at Xavier's. He owns several small planes or jets and several cars. His home in Colorado is equipped with a cloaked sub basement of its own containing scaled down versions of a war room, med lab and holding cell. Built into the side of a mountain peak, Angel's Aerie, is secluded and sports his own private landing pad, as does the roof of his NYC Penthouse.
Weapons:
At times, Angel has carried stun guns or grenades, a communicator among other things as dictated by the established mission. He would say that his wings are his special weapon.
Uniform:
As an X-Man, Warren's uniform has changed over the years but has always remained consistent in that it rarely diverges from two colors with accents in either gold or silver metal tones. From red and white to blue and white to black and white, Warren recognizes the advantage of a carefully crafted image and so he typically sticks with the tried and true classic hero look, often with a silver or golden toned halo on his chest and partial cowl revealing the crown of blond hair atop his head.
As Archangel, Warren's look takes on a much more sinister feel, representing a darker, more dangerous being. Fully enrobed from head to toe in black with only his face visible. The entire uniform is lined with kevlar and is outlined with silver metal that functions effectively as armor plating enabling him to use his body as a sort of battering ram as he flies through structures. He is also equipped with gloves made of this same substance with claws that retract or extend at will and allow him to slash and punch with greater effectiveness
Personality:
poor little rich boy:
At his core, Warren is a true hero though at times he has been his own worst enemy. Confident, strong, charismatic and beautiful, Warren carries himself with pride. He possesses a regal nature and tends to behave properly despite whatever mood he may be experiencing at the time. Incapable of truly hiding his feelings, Warren may come across as spoiled and even shallow. For a time that may have been true, but as he has aged, Warren has begun to mature to something greater.
hero:
Stoic and firmly focused on the future, Angel has allowed Xavier's dream to shape him in ways that he has yet to fully understand. He tries to overcome the anger and resentment he still harbors in the wake of the Cure but he isn't always successful. As a vain individual, Warren's nature was fostered by an environment built upon appearances and societal expectation. Clearly he does what is expected of him as an adult in no small part because of the same restrictive teachings that forced the young man to seek to hide the one thing that made him special and unique.
wings:
At times he still views his mutation as a curse despite the fact that he recognizes that he would be lost without his glorious wings. Always adventurous and a little reckless, Warren's aggressive nature and attitude has become even more so since gaining his freedom from his father after Alcatraz Island. Though his mind still holds a great deal of his old playboy demeanor, it is obvious to those who have known him since his youth that Worthington has changed since being betrayed by his father. He knows that he might well be dead now, had he taken the Cure pushed upon him by Worthington Senior, if anything this has made him even more determined to see the 'dream' succeed.
living life:
Warren loves to push the envelope. As he has grown more and more confident with his abilities, this aspect of his persona has only become more and more prominent. He has taken advantage of the money he's received from his mother's estate to once again travel the globe and experience life in the way he has always wanted. Warren has taken up base jumping, rock climbing, treks to the Amazon, to Africa, to the Himalayas to hike to get down and dirty and live the kind of life he has for too long been denied. He usually is very careful about his companions on such a trip, as some activities involve exposing his mutation.
best of everything:
He enjoys the night life, usually photographed with a prime selection of women on his arm, or arms. He can be the consummate host as his connections in the industry allow him access to the best and brightest. He is happy to flaunt his wealth and refuses to wear anything but the best. He can still come across as spoiled or snobbish, though he is more conscious of his company when doing so. He isn't unkind by any means, if anything he tries to overcompensate for his own privileged existence with generosity. It should be noted that generosity for Warren was often in the form of gifts that only money could buy. He has learned in the last few years that actions, deeds and spirit more often than not mean a hell of a lot more.
hidden shame:
Warren's mutation surfaced at the onset of puberty. Up until the he had been fairly happy go lucky and incredibly spoiled by a father who clearly felt the sun rose and set on his son. The emergence of the wings was extremely painful for young Worthington. He was terrified, understandably by their appearance. So much so that he made several attempts to rid himself of them. The most dramatic of these situations involved various knives and two rather large rasps usually used for wood working to help him work away at the twin ridges of bone and feathers rising up out of his back. The event was made even more traumatic by the appearance and discovery of his father. This knowledge lead to changes in the relationship of father and son that still affect them today. Most importantly, Warren carries the emotional scars of that history with him every day.
History:
Warren Worthington was born to the best that life could offer. As heir to a vast fortune and the son of loving parents it was obvious to all that young Warren would have every advantage. He grew from a beautiful baby into a cute toddler and later into a handsome young man. He was prized as a golden boy during his formative years which gave him an inflated sense of self. This was only boosted by the attention and numerous gifts he received regularly. He was a happy child, always smiling, but who wouldn't smile as spoiled as he was.
Life went on as expected for the child, European vacations, several homes he would one day call his own scattered across the globe and the best education that money could buy. Young Warren developed into a capable athlete and began to excel in literature and economics. As he grew older he spent more and time at boarding schools, even spending some time in England to help prepare him for the international role he would take in his family's company.
That all changed as he approached puberty. On the plus side, his looks seemed to blossom as his body began to take on a more manly form, muscles cropping up seemingly overnight. But that was not all, Warren also began to grow bony appendages from his shoulder blades covered in white down. Appalled by what was happening, Warren tried to cut or file them off but only succeeded in hurting himself and making a bloody mess of the bathroom.
Warren's wings grew over the coming days and weeks ultimately reaching eight feet each. Even with the extra weight of the wings and the muscle adorning his frame, Warren was losing weight. This was especially surprising considering the increase he suffered in appetite. He was eating almost constantly for nearly three months before his body stabilized. Gone were the days of impromptu football on the lawn, Warren quit the rugby team and was forced to give up trips to the beach that he adored. Also put to an end were the weekend parties, the fear that someone might notice the wings if they got too close ever present in his mind.
He began wearing a specially designed harness to hide the wings and had his clothes altered to better cover them. He maintain his charming, playboy facade as he hoped his personality would distract from the barely there hump at his back. He carried himself with confidence, never allowing himself true freedom until he would remove the harness and the constricting clothing for midnight flights. This became a pattern for him throughout his high school years. He dated several girls but the relationships never seemed to last because he was unable to be completely honest.
His parents reacted badly to the realization that he was a mutant, shipping him off for school his Senior year in high school to a boarding school in Washington state. Warren was admired by his fellow students but the separation from all that he had known began to wear him down. He became careless, seeking out the sky to ease his pain. He saved a group of his fellow students one night during a dormitory fire and that masked occurrence lead to a brief stint as the Avenging Angel. He was approached by Charles Xavier and his X-Men but his mental state would not allow him to make such a drastic change. He turned down the offer to return to Westchester only to ultimately agree to join after Xavier saved his life.
Warren became one of the original five X-Men and served successfully for many of his late teen years, forgoing a traditional university education for life as a superhero. During that time the formulative young heroes encountered many like minded souls but also their fair share of villains. During a mission to the mutant island of Krakoa, the original five students were captured and Xavier sent in a second team to get them out. One of those new recruits, Wolverine, did not have the sensibilities of an X-Man in Warren's eyes and the two did not exactly see eye to eye for many years. Though each would later earn each others respect, Warren left the X-Men for the first of what would become a habitual absence.
He would return when the team needed him but largely Worthington has taken on full responsibilities as CEO of Worthington Worldwide. He still trains with his teammates as often as he can and his old room still waits for him, even if he enjoys residences on all corners of the Earth. Life has not gone completely smoothly as of late. Tensions continue to escalate between mutants and humans and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. He feels as if he should be able to do more. He has chosen to ignore the attendant publicity describing him by turns a hero or the devil himself. Angels and Demons - always that same dichotomy has existed for him. All at once it seems that once solitary inner war was raging around him now, publicly. He could handle it. Or so he told himself.
RP Sample:
Taken from a site I used to RP him on as homage.
Warren Worthington drifted easily on the smooth current of air flowing north west of Salem Center. He'd just left Xavier for what he thought would be the last time. He'd had enough. He'd finally had enough. The events of the past year, even the supposed victories, all left him with a hollow feeling. Too much death. Betsy. Piotr. Even the apparent death of Apocalypse... He once thought that watching his former master die was all he was living for. Guess he'd been wrong, though he still wished it had been by his owns hands. Perhaps he'd feel satisfied now, instead of empty. A gust of air seemed to slap him in the face and he adjusted easily with a flick of his right wing.
Anger filled his eyes, even as it ate at his guts. The burning sensation he used to feel almost constantly was back. The anger Apocalypse had once helped him to acknowledge needed an outlet. And he knew just where he could go to do just that. Weapon X. There was too much evil in the world and he was going to put an end to it.
He'd had to argue with the Professor for almost a month now, just to get him to tell him more than the rumors he'd heard. The snippets of information he'd manage to scrape together. Bits and pieces really, most of it was lies. Warren knew the professor would know more and so he'd been persistent. A man named John Smith was in charge of the new program. He'd gotten that from the Professor and so much more. Warnings and sympathy and empathy from that quarter as well...all useless. Finally the professor must have understood. The boy who'd originally joined the X-men so many years ago no longer existed. The winged man standing before the greatest mind in the world was a much a monster as a man.
He'd had his men check out Smith's background. They'd come up with very little. And from what Warren had been able to gather from the Professor about the new program, they only took volunteers now. He hoped that would mean he wasn't about to hand himself over to a bunch of mad scientists and become a living test subject again. But at the moment he just didn't care one way or the other. He couldn't justify indiscriminate killing. But he could justify working for a top-secret agency, if they happened to ask him to kill...so be it.
The Professor thinks I'm making a mistake. That'll take time to heal.
In the fourth hour of his flight, the air began to get colder. His eyes easily adjusted to the colder air but his face-felt cold now. The sun was hidden somewhere above the clouds. His wings were no longer doing their job of keeping his body warm. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. He could see the river cutting through the valley. The dense forest surrounding the secret base. He wasn't sure exactly where it was but he felt like he was getting close now. Opening his eyes, he spotted a river below him. He felt like he could find the base. He'd gotten that information out of Cerebro. His avian eyes had memorized every detail of the on screen map. And looking downward now, he saw the same image beneath him. He smiled. He was close.
Soon he would have an answer. He would know if there were still a place for him left in the world.
Folding his wings behind him, Warren lowered himself to the ground. Finding a clearing to land in had been almost as difficult as finding the base. He'd been hovering, circling the base for almost an hour. He wanted them to know he was here. Even though he was exhausted, he was as focused on this goal as anything he had wanted prior. He hadn't come all this way for nothing. Nor did he want to be shot trying to land. His boots crushed the fallen leaves beneath his feet with each step. The air was heavy down here beneath the canopy of trees. Moss and fern flourished beneath the centuries old cedar and pine. Warren wondered just how long Weapon X had been around. He figured the man he'd met had been much older than he looked. So probably quite a while.
He'd only walked about fifty feet before he felt like he was being watched. Good. Bring it on, fellas. He turned in the direction he remembered seeing the cluster of buildings that led to what he assumed was an underground complex. He heard a twig break some distance behind him. Maybe I'll have some fun before I let them take me down. Taking a quick glance around, he spotted movement off to his left and right. Classic V formation. He darted off to his right then cut back to the left before leaping into the air and soaring at about seven feet in the air through the ranks on his right. His fist struck the helmet of one of the soldiers and he felt a dart fly past his shoulder. Then another. The aim was superb, almost marksman. Warren was nimble in the air, but the darts were coming fast and furious toward him now.
These guys are serious, it would do me no good to be passed out in some cell rotting away. I need to see the director. And to do that I need to be conscious.
"I'm here to see Director Smith," Warren shouted out to the hidden men still firing at him, "My name is Warren Worthington." Swoosh. Wind through the feathers, glorious, transcendent and life affirming. He turned in the air going higher and then dropping down to avoid the gunfire. Well this isn't working. Maybe I should try something else. Less aggressive. He dropped down to the ground and threw his arms into the air.
"I want to see Smith." He repeated as a dart hit him squarely in the shoulder. His healing blood could counter many toxins but apparently not this one, at least not completely. His head was swimming, his eyes watered and his vision blurred. He felt himself falling and then caught. Strong hands gripping his arms, dragging him along the ground. His alabaster wings shrinking up behind his back, the longest feathers bouncing in the soft breeze against his strong but useless legs.
He couldn't smile, but he wanted to. This was what he wanted.
Some time later, Warren opened his eyes. In place of the hands were two wide metal rings surrounding each of his biceps and connecting across his back effectively strapping his wings down as well. A chain ran down each arm to wrist shackles that kept his arms at his sides. He was on his knees, a gun pressed against his temple. He heard a heavy metal door open and close. He could hear voices on the other side of the door.
Inside the conference room, the lieutenant who'd captured Angel addressed the Director, "Sir. We've captured a mutant. He says he's here to see you, sir. He knew you by name, sir. Otherwise we would have killed him, Sir."
Anger filled his eyes, even as it ate at his guts. The burning sensation he used to feel almost constantly was back. The anger Apocalypse had once helped him to acknowledge needed an outlet. And he knew just where he could go to do just that. Weapon X. There was too much evil in the world and he was going to put an end to it.
He'd had to argue with the Professor for almost a month now, just to get him to tell him more than the rumors he'd heard. The snippets of information he'd manage to scrape together. Bits and pieces really, most of it was lies. Warren knew the professor would know more and so he'd been persistent. A man named John Smith was in charge of the new program. He'd gotten that from the Professor and so much more. Warnings and sympathy and empathy from that quarter as well...all useless. Finally the professor must have understood. The boy who'd originally joined the X-men so many years ago no longer existed. The winged man standing before the greatest mind in the world was a much a monster as a man.
He'd had his men check out Smith's background. They'd come up with very little. And from what Warren had been able to gather from the Professor about the new program, they only took volunteers now. He hoped that would mean he wasn't about to hand himself over to a bunch of mad scientists and become a living test subject again. But at the moment he just didn't care one way or the other. He couldn't justify indiscriminate killing. But he could justify working for a top-secret agency, if they happened to ask him to kill...so be it.
The Professor thinks I'm making a mistake. That'll take time to heal.
In the fourth hour of his flight, the air began to get colder. His eyes easily adjusted to the colder air but his face-felt cold now. The sun was hidden somewhere above the clouds. His wings were no longer doing their job of keeping his body warm. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. He could see the river cutting through the valley. The dense forest surrounding the secret base. He wasn't sure exactly where it was but he felt like he was getting close now. Opening his eyes, he spotted a river below him. He felt like he could find the base. He'd gotten that information out of Cerebro. His avian eyes had memorized every detail of the on screen map. And looking downward now, he saw the same image beneath him. He smiled. He was close.
Soon he would have an answer. He would know if there were still a place for him left in the world.
Folding his wings behind him, Warren lowered himself to the ground. Finding a clearing to land in had been almost as difficult as finding the base. He'd been hovering, circling the base for almost an hour. He wanted them to know he was here. Even though he was exhausted, he was as focused on this goal as anything he had wanted prior. He hadn't come all this way for nothing. Nor did he want to be shot trying to land. His boots crushed the fallen leaves beneath his feet with each step. The air was heavy down here beneath the canopy of trees. Moss and fern flourished beneath the centuries old cedar and pine. Warren wondered just how long Weapon X had been around. He figured the man he'd met had been much older than he looked. So probably quite a while.
He'd only walked about fifty feet before he felt like he was being watched. Good. Bring it on, fellas. He turned in the direction he remembered seeing the cluster of buildings that led to what he assumed was an underground complex. He heard a twig break some distance behind him. Maybe I'll have some fun before I let them take me down. Taking a quick glance around, he spotted movement off to his left and right. Classic V formation. He darted off to his right then cut back to the left before leaping into the air and soaring at about seven feet in the air through the ranks on his right. His fist struck the helmet of one of the soldiers and he felt a dart fly past his shoulder. Then another. The aim was superb, almost marksman. Warren was nimble in the air, but the darts were coming fast and furious toward him now.
These guys are serious, it would do me no good to be passed out in some cell rotting away. I need to see the director. And to do that I need to be conscious.
"I'm here to see Director Smith," Warren shouted out to the hidden men still firing at him, "My name is Warren Worthington." Swoosh. Wind through the feathers, glorious, transcendent and life affirming. He turned in the air going higher and then dropping down to avoid the gunfire. Well this isn't working. Maybe I should try something else. Less aggressive. He dropped down to the ground and threw his arms into the air.
"I want to see Smith." He repeated as a dart hit him squarely in the shoulder. His healing blood could counter many toxins but apparently not this one, at least not completely. His head was swimming, his eyes watered and his vision blurred. He felt himself falling and then caught. Strong hands gripping his arms, dragging him along the ground. His alabaster wings shrinking up behind his back, the longest feathers bouncing in the soft breeze against his strong but useless legs.
He couldn't smile, but he wanted to. This was what he wanted.
Some time later, Warren opened his eyes. In place of the hands were two wide metal rings surrounding each of his biceps and connecting across his back effectively strapping his wings down as well. A chain ran down each arm to wrist shackles that kept his arms at his sides. He was on his knees, a gun pressed against his temple. He heard a heavy metal door open and close. He could hear voices on the other side of the door.
Inside the conference room, the lieutenant who'd captured Angel addressed the Director, "Sir. We've captured a mutant. He says he's here to see you, sir. He knew you by name, sir. Otherwise we would have killed him, Sir."
Code word: (flimsy)
Player Information
[/u]First Name: J
Country/State: Eastern US
Age: 23
Have you ever RP’ed on a Forum before?: Yes. for several years.
Do you play any other characters?: He's the first.[/center]
