Name: "That's Qil Tevon to you, mister." The first syllable comes out with a click of his tongue. The rest follows as you'd expect from a Galactic-speaking human.
Age: "Got a bit of youth to me-- more than I can say for most others of my upbringing. 26, in human years." The war seems to have aged him, as it had for everyone else.
Gender: "Male."
Race: "That's human to you."
Height: 1.778 m.
Weight: 73 kg.
Occupation: "I consider myself a purveyor of desirable folk." Whether that means slaver, bounty hunter, or both... the answer isn't discernable from his answer alone.
John Doe No.103, heretofore acknowledged as "STRIX" in further documentation, possesses a substantial set of enhanced factors pertaining to dexterity, cognition, and flexibility. Available eyewitness accounts include mention of: environmental damage from strikes indicative of enhanced strength and force, predictive movement to dodge bullets and other lethal projectiles, leaping and running capabilities past the ability of a factor-absent human, and contortionist abilities which aid in stealth capabilities. Chinese authorities have refused to collaborate with MIRA emissaries and release available body-camera footage for usage by ORG-LEVEL analysts; however, Strix's activities in the United States have provided available, yet limited, firsthand surveillance of abilities.
B. "WAY OF THE JIANGSHI"
Strix's complementary secondary factor has been observed mainly by Chinese authorities, and a leaked batch of compromised correspondence between Beijing authorities with the CCP has allowed MIRA the opportunity to observe and log this information for later analysis. Termed "Way of the Jiangshi" as a working title in recovered records, Strix possesses the otherworldly ability to leap, fly, and hover through the air with significant defiance to established physics and gravitational laws. Additionally, the subject appears to possess some degree of supernatural "aura manipulation", as termed by Beijing police. Leaked documentation contains multiple accounts of dehydrated and rotted cadavers left in the aftermath of sightings; bodies that could be identified through implant or dental records possessed a biological age far younger than what the level of decomposition would suggest. Documentation also contains references to apparent body camera footage in which this ability is directly surveilled; however, no such footage is available to MIRA at this time.
The combination of apparent biological vampirism and gravity-defying feats has caused Beijing authorities to refer to both Strix and his modus operandi as similar to the Chinese hopping vampire, or Jiangshi. Analysts are currently determining whether or not this comparison is spiritually or culturally accurate, as well as whether or not common talismans and wards meant to counter Jiangshi would be necessarily effective against the subject.
Oddly, Strix's movements and navigation of the environment bear stark similarity to traditional wuxia Chinese fiction.
II. SPECIALIZATIONS AND SKILLS.
A. MIXED MARTIAL ARTISTRY
John Doe #103 employs a variety of martial artistry when directly confronted. The most obvious of these styles is the usage of Chinese kung fu-- notably, the southern style of Wing Chun. Given the spiritual importance of qi in Chinese martial artistry, investigative analysts are attempting to determine a concrete relationship between Strix's method of combat and Section Nº2B "WAY OF THE JIANGSHI".
III. EQUIPMENT.
A. SUIT
Strix, true to the namesake, employs an outfit thematically and aesthetically similar to that of an owl. The outfit is identity-concealing. Lenses of the mask are polarized and appear to be bulletproof. The cloth of the outfit appears to be made of an unknown cloth, leather, and metal; the materials appear to be resistant to wear-and-tear and other smaller forms of damage.
B. WEAPONRY
The subject possesses retractable blades on the gloved fingers of the suit. Additional daggers appear to be housed on the left hip, along with a rope-dart coiled on the right.
SECTION Nº3: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
[1] Is this guy who we think it is? - J. Irving
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
AGENT DOSSIER - FILE Nº X-####-X
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED
Then, perhaps uncomfortably so, there was silence. Manhattan was not usually a silent place. Save the distant barking of an alerted dog, there was little else that filled the night air-- only distant traffic and the occasional whisper of wind along the rooftops. The place he had chosen was isolated for that very reason, the quiet. Anyone who would think to intervene would not hear the struggle-- all except one, if he had been correct in his judgement. The one he was after would no doubt hear the muffled gunfire as loud as a howl in the ear.
Strix only hoped the man had even developed that far. There was always a chance that he would be incorrect-- this was a new place, after all, and the rules were yet to reveal themselves. Tonight would be a test; tonight would be an introduction. It would only be fair.
There would be a constant drip, drip that fell across the night, silent to others but rainfall to the one he sought. When the man would happen upon the sound, he would find only a body upon a roof as evidence of the slaughter-- a carved corpse, intricate yet simple in its message. An older Asian fellow, hands nailed to the wall of a rooftop staircase exit, the cage of a pigeon-keeper adjacent. The birds would be undisturbed, unagitated.
On the brick, camouflaged yet glossy under the moonlight, was a simple name. Unknown to many, but it would bear all the significance in the world to the watcher.
OCCUPATION [IF APPLICABLE] REGION OF OPERATIONS COMMON PSEUDONYMS FILE Nº
HEIGHT WEIGHT BUILD BLOOD TYPE
HAIR COLOR | TYPE EYE COLOR VISION LATERALITY
MIRA DESIGNATE:
TITANTICUS HURRICANUS N/A; DISCOVERED 24NOV21
N/A KAIJU N/A UNKNOWN
N/A N/A "DISASTRAH" | "WHISTLER" R-####-8
90 METERS / 295 FT. 76,056 TONS LEVIATHAN-CLASS UNKNOWN
N/A ORANGE UNKNOWN UNKNOWN
RED-8
SECTION Nº2: CONDENSED ANALYST ASSESSMENT
I. BIOLOGICAL FACTORS.
A. KAIJU PHYSIOLOGY
Disastrah is a Category 4(80m-100m) bipedal Kaiju whose origins are unknown at this time. It has demonstrated incredible physical deviance from the assumed capabilities of Category 4 Kaiju. Hardened spikes that protrude from its body serve a primarily defensive purpose, being located in areas that other Kaiju are most likely to attack. An analysis of Disastrah’s muscle fibers indicates that it likely has an upper strength limit equal to about 4 times its own weight. Along with this Disastrah has displayed the ability to survive in extreme pressures and temperatures.
Disastrah appears to possess some degree of control over the weather. Strong storms often accompany it’s arrival and it’s incredibly common for Tornadoes to form in the immediate area around the creature. Further expanding upon this ability to manipulate winds, large holes have been seen on the creature's elbows, feet, palms, and the backs of it’s legs. The creature stores large amounts of air which it releases from those orifices to increase physical output of strikes or boost mobility. The intake of air creates a loud whistling sound which has earned Disastrah the nickname, Whistler.
II. SPECIALIZATIONS AND SKILLS.
N/A
III. EQUIPMENT.
N/A
SECTION Nº3: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.3 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.4 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
AGENT DOSSIER - FILE Nº R-####-8
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED
OCCUPATIONAL ROLE ASSIGNED MIRA REGION COMMON PSEUDONYMS FILE Nº
HEIGHT WEIGHT BUILD BLOOD TYPE
HAIR COLOR | TYPE EYE COLOR VISION LATERALITY
MIRA DESIGNATE:
LEONARD STONE 10-22-64
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA WHITE AMERICAN ENGLISH (5), RUSSIAN (4), MANDARIN (4), SPANISH (4), GERMAN (4)
AGENCY DIRECTOR MID-ATLANTIC (WASHINGTON, D.C.) "DIRECTOR" A-0000-D
5'8" (172.5 CM) 142 LBS (64.4 KG) MESOMORPH BUILD. O-
BLACK, 2B HAZEL 20/25 LEFT
BLU-0
SECTION Nº2: METAHUMAN ABILITY ASSESSMENT
I. PRIMARY FACTORS.
A. BASELINE - ABSENT GENETIC MARKERS
Owen McCormack does not demonstrate any hallmark characteristics of metahuman abilities under the established testing procedures of the Metahuman Ability Assessment [MAA]. These include explicit markers of physical properties and stress tests under MAA doctrines, as well as implicit markers that would be revealed through mandatory genome testing and cellular sampling. Per Code 3, Act 4 of MIRA Classification Guidelines, Owen McCormack has been granted BLU-0 status due to a "present lack of any indicators that may directly or indirectly show possession of latent supernatural ability above the accepted standard human baseline" outlined in Code 1, Act 1.
Should the respective agent demonstrate a deviation from the personalized Accepted Genetic Norm [AGN] as per Code 1, Act 2 of MIRA Classification Guidelines, applicable status will be subject to a periodic review. A new status will be assigned if applicable.
II. SUPPLEMENTAL FACTORS.
N/A.
SECTION Nº3: SPECIALTIES AND SKILLS
I. PRIMARY SPECIALIZATIONS.
A. OCCUPATIONAL QUALIFICATIONS
Graduated 2018 from Stanford University with a B.S. in Psychology; focused minor in Metahuman Anthropology. Achieved magna cum laude honors upon graduation. Owen earned his MSC in Psychology soon thereafter, entering the workforce after just 5 years of schooling and finding intern work under Cold Solutions.
While the Metahuman Incident Response Agency was in the midst of forming, Owen McCormack left the employ of Frederick Cane and applied for numerous positions at the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Central Intelligence Agency; while his lack of traditional experience barred him from most positions, McCormack was eventually employed under the DHS for specific consultation regarding metahuman security threats, as well as psychological profiles of various logged "superheroes" and "supervillains". While the position was largely entry-level, the combination of Owen's specific work experience and doctorate thesis caught the eye of MIRA recruiters at the onset of the agency's founding. As of January 28th, 2021, Owen has been reporting as a Junior Metahuman Profiler under Director Stone at the MIRA Mid-Atlantic offices in Washington, DC for the purposes of logging and studying supernatural threats, flagging persons of interest, and conducting routine baseline psychological profile examinations.
II. SUPPLEMENTAL SPECIALIZATIONS.
A. FIREARMS AND EQUIPMENT TRAINING
As per Code 1, Act 3 of MIRA Procedural Operative Guidelines, Owen McCormack was passed through an MIRA-Certified 6-Month Firearms and Equipment training and safety course, to be completed alongside his initial tenure as a Junior Metahuman Analyst[1]. Having completed the course, Owen McCormack has been cleared for use of Class-4 equipment and below to be assigned as necessary according to Code 2, Act 1 of the MIRA Procedural Operative Guidelines.
B. IMAS CLEARANCE - YLW-8
Owen McCormack has received proper training and licensing for operation of the Incidental Metahuman Account System, or IMAS, at a clearance level of THREAT YELLOW, STAKE 8[2] and below. Special clearance regarding higher threat and stake levels may be granted at the Director's discretion, barring any outstanding infractions at time of service.
SECTION Nº4: APPROVED EQUIPMENT
I. PRIMARY EQUIPMENT.
A. SIG SAUER P229 COMPACT SIDEARM, .40 S&W HOLLOW-POINT
Like all sub-meta MIRA field agents, Owen McCormack has been outfitted with a standard-issue Sig Sauer P229, the compact variant of the P228 which offers increased concealability for public affairs. Like other standard-issue sidearms for MIRA field agents, the P229 is chambered in .40 S&W hollow-point ammunition with a 13-round box magazine. The .40 S&W hollow-point was chosen by MIRA for the express purpose of balancing penetration and stopping power while controlling overpenetration in public areas.
B. PANASONIC TOUGHBOOK® 55 SEMI-RUGGED FIELD LAPTOP
Owen McCormack has been granted access to the standard-issue field laptop given to all profilers, junior or otherwise. The laptop is outfitted with an Intel® Core™ i5-1145G7 vPro™ processor, Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, and 8 GB RAM. Additionally, the laptop has been issued with a spare battery and SecureDrive HDD, along with all onboard MIRA-approved software for analyst and profiling activities.
II. SUPPLEMENTAL EQUIPMENT.
A. APPLE IPHONE XR SMARTPHONE
Owen McCormack has been granted access to the standard-issue smartphone for active staff. The iPhone XR boasts all typical Apple phone features, along with custom-logged software alongside iOS to improve workflow and call quality for field work. The phone has been issued with a shatter-proof and impact-resistant case, along with updated storage capacity for the typical model.
B. CHEVROLET MALIBU, 2021 MODEL
Owen McCormack has been granted access to MIRA-issued agency cars, all of which are the current Chevrolet Malibu 2021 line. Each vehicle has been modified with aftermarket security modifications, including a fingerprint ID system for door access on both the handles and the wireless key set, face ID for initial startup and console access, bulletproof windows, tires, and plating, and a modified engine block to account for added weight. Light bars across the rear and front windshields have also been added for relevant field scenarios.
SECTION Nº5: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.3 FOOTNOTES.
[1] At this time, Owen McCormack has an outstanding notice to complete the newly-effective MIRA Shoulder Arms online vetting course by 14Oct21. Failure to do so will result in the revocation of his firearms license.
[2] Agent has since applied for ORG-3 clearance level. Application under review as of 9Sep21.
SECTION NO.4 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
AGENT DOSSIER - FILE Nº A-4758-S
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED
Last Edit: Nov 27, 2021 23:41:07 GMT by Basskicker
Scramjet heard the spider-themed hero out, hands moving to rest on his hips as he turned to look away at the rest of the beach. Strecker and ACG Heatwave were certainly capable of handling themselves in a pinch, but the young woman was a bit of a known unknown-- if she was here, then she hopefully had a degree of defense against a factor of substantial stake, but that was a very risky assumption to be made by somebody backing the integrity of a government institution. Last thing he needed was that on his conscience.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Alright. I'll go out on a limb here."
Scramjet turned back to the spider-hero as he spoke, rubbing the back of his helmet. Chances are, the kid had at least some amount of power to back up his words-- Rasmus liked to think that nobody could be that stupidly brave-- so he put up his hands.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"I make no promises on the ambulance ride, though, or the hospital. That's up for convincing the emergency services. I'd--"
And at that, he turned, looking back to the gathered parties on the beach.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"-- like to get names or aliases from everybody here, please. Might need to follow up a bit after this wraps."
If this wrapped, that is. Scramjet had a tendency to be optimistic about situations like these-- a trait his wife often nagged him for-- and it often bit him in the rear, if he was being honest with himself. Didn't hurt to see the best in everything, though. It helped to make friends in this sort of industry. Allies, at the very least.
To prove his point, two allies happened to show up a little bit after EMS arrived. Business acquaintances, sure, but having someone like Ms. Smith or Oni-Girl on your side wasn't exactly a bad thing. Kore gave him the heads-up on the body, to which he responded with about as much of an emotive nod as he could manage.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Good hunting, then! Science team's gonna have a field day with that body. We won't be making a Mecha-Skeleton-Kaiju with the framework. Promise."
He winked at that, then realized nobody could see it.
That about fixed it, so he turned his attention back to the spider-guy as he gave a very sarcastic greeting by contrast. Rasmus fell visibly silent at that, glancing between the two parties before opening his mouth to speak-- and he was really glad that the helmet hid his face, at that moment, because it stayed open for about a moment longer before he unanimously decided against what he was about to say. Not worth getting in the middle of whatever this was. Instead, he gave a glance over to the girl, turning away from the shore to get a good look at her. His gaze swept along the gathered party another time around, more out of habit than anything else.
Truth be told, the people weren't as interesting as the thing behind them. No offense meant to them-- few people were more concerning than an imminently approaching beam of concentrated energy. In his peripheral, the bundled-up kid stirred, then leapt.
Fight or flight kicked in, and time slowed down. Adrenaline had a way of making everything just that much more heightened-- the way the bundled kid's hair fluttered over his face in the wind, or the way a rogue tendril on the spider-kid's suit curled like a ferro-fluid back into his limb. Air particulates passed under the rays of dawn. Sand shifted grain by grain with each subtle movement of the human body. And-- most apparently, the blinding and encroaching light of ordnance firing upon the beach. Right where they were standing.
What happened next was out of Scramjet's control, really. It was a blur-- before the cannons even hit the beach, there was a single explosion in the sand as his muscles instinctively kicked him into a dive towards the spider-hero and the kid he no longer holding-- because Scramjet could see, in his slowed-down cognition, that the kid was already leaping through the air towards the beams. Even though Rasmus had the ability to perceive everything, his body was a prison, bound by the same laws and motion of the present. Saving everyone was impossible. He'd have to hope they could fend for themselves. He could only save one. He had his sights set on the black-suited kid, and there was no going back. Momentum made sure of that.
Can only save one. Can only save one...
Sand ripped up in a miniature detonation as he moved-- dragged by air, then falling to the earth, as he moved quick enough to break past the sound barrier. Sand ripped into his suit from the force, streaking along the material and crackling into his visor. His limbs ached. He was not meant to move this fast. No human body was. But he moved, pushing himself further and further as the glow of the beams crested along his body, because being alive enough to register pain was far, far better than the alternative being presented here. But for him to live, he had to play this right. Had to make sure he didn't kill himself in the process. So-- as quickly as he'd accelerated, Scramjet braked, digging his legs into the sand and kicking up a good two inches of beach as he tucked, outstretched his arms just enough to keep them from being dislocated, and tackled the kid about center mass mid-stop. Something hit his shoulder. Hard. Pain didn't even register yet, and the pair were both taken to the ground, with Rasmus shifting his body to hopefully take the brunt of the impact with the ground. At the very least, he hoped to push the kid out of the range of the blasts-- at most, tackle him and shield him from any collateral.
So, with enough fright that could kill an elephant, Rasmus braced and rolled.
It was over in seconds. Turning, turning, explosions all around, then-- nothing. Rather than inspect his own injuries, Scramjet quickly scrambled to his knees and moved to the side of the spider-kid, one hand instinctively taking a pulse while the other lightly shook him. Sand still rained down around them both, and smoke was heavy in the air. No-- not sand. Glass. It pattered off of his already-tarnished suit, micro-abrasions along the front of his body forming tears in the material and scratches along the visor.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Sorry-- sorry! Had to-- act on instinct."
He breathed, blood screaming in his ears. It was his own version of a heart hammering in the chest, he'd learned. His own little mini heart attack. Not a great feeling.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"You alright? You good? Anything hurt?"
The kid was confident enough to think he could hold down the kaiju-boy, after all. Scramjet just hoped that the confidence wasn't, well-- misplaced.
Little time for small talk, it seemed. A roar drew Scramjet's head over his shoulder just in time to see a wave of breath cresting towards him; in a flash, Scramjet's leg kicked out into the earth and unleashed a pressurized burst of air about a foot beneath the sand, spraying up a wall of pulverized rock and silicate to block the worst of the attack. Again, glass clattered against his body in the aftermath, along with a brief flash of fire; an on-board geiger counter started to bleed his ears with clicking before fading out into silence. Great-- green rays, cancer rays, cancer breath, kaiju-boy. A few more and he'd fill the Incident Bingo, he reckoned. He glanced back to the kid as the kaiju leapt off, extending out a hand. First priority was making sure everyone else was alright. The others engaged first.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"We're just getting luckier and luckier today, right? You good to get up? Take a minute if you need to."
Clancy James does not demonstrate any hallmark characteristics of metahuman abilities under the established testing procedures of the Metahuman Ability Assessment [MAA]. These include explicit markers of physical properties and stress tests under MAA doctrines, as well as implicit markers that would be revealed through mandatory genome testing and available cellular sampling. Per Code 3, Act 4 of MIRA Classification Guidelines, Clancy James has been assigned ORG-4 status due to a "present lack of any indicators that may directly or indirectly show possession of latent supernatural ability above the accepted standard human baseline" outlined in Code 1, Act 1, as well as "possession of technology or equipment that, when employed by the designated subject, grant an explicit advantage over non-factor subjects" as outlined in Code 1, Act 2.
Should the respective agent demonstrate a deviation from the personalized Accepted Genetic Norm [AGN] as per Code 1, Act 2 of MIRA Classification Guidelines, applicable status will be subject to a periodic review. A new status will be assigned if applicable. Threat-Stake level will be de-escalated to ORG-0 in the event that Clancy James' equipment is neutralized.
II. SPECIALIZATIONS AND SKILLS.
A. APPLIED ARTHROPODOLOGY AND BIOLOGICAL ENGINEERING.
Clancy James graduated magna cum laude from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, having been educated in Biomedical Engineering with a minor in Arthropodology. Much of his pre-criminal career was spent merging both disciplines; at SimpsonLauer Applied Technologies, James was involved heavily in a proprietary project involving the applications of arthropod physiology to real-world prosthetic systems and biological enhancements. James' expertise seems to lie particularly in the structure and biology of various arthropods; confidential documents recently disclosed to the public through anonymous whistleblowers (see the Lauer Affair) have brought further detail as to the extent of SimpsonLauer's research into mutative equipment. Clancy James in particular seems to have the most in-depth working knowledge as to the function and composition of this equipment and research, as he is currently in possession of a FACTOR-4 bioweapon.
III. EQUIPMENT.
A. AMRA-2021 "BUG-ZAPPER"
Clancy James' primary weapon, as documented by eyewitnesses and police bodycamera footage, is a working prototype stolen from his previous place of work (SimpsonLauer). While originally an integral part of a greater imaging machine designed to merge organic cells through undisclosed proprietary means, Clancy James appears to have retrofitted the central focusing apparatus and outfitted the component with several rudimentary modifications to give it the appearance and function of a short-range directed energy weapon (DEW). Most superficially, it bears resemblance to a gun, though the nature of the component and James' retrofitted additions give the weapon the appearance of a nonconventional raygun. This has lead multiple witnesses and victims to underestimate the function and lethality of the firearm.
The AMRA-2021 (Adaptive Mutative Radiation Apparatus, 2021) has the speculated ability to transform organic carbon-based matter into a self-replicating intelligent biomass. In simpler terms, through an unknown mechanism within the central component, the AMRA-2021 transforms any organic matter it strikes into a swarm of living arthropods. How this is achieved is largely unknown, and speculated to be the result of mutative radiation stemming from proprietary equipment developed within SimpsonLauer Applied Technologies. Any beam fired from the AMRA-2021 is inherently lethal and produces a runoff effect from the affected region until the entire mass of organic matter is fully consumed and transformed. The resultant classification of arthropod that arises from a converted mass was initially though to be random; however, algorithm-enhanced security footage of Clancy James' improvised weapon appears to show a dial and setting function on the side of each firearm (he is in possession of two firearms, each of which is identical in purpose).
Clancy James has been overheard in audio footage as tactlessly referring to the modified AMRA-2021s as "Bug-Zappers".
B. ANT-2021 "HIVE-MIND"
The secondary proprietary SimpsonLauer device in Clancy James' possession is the Adaptive Neural Transmitter (2021), nicknamed by Clancy James as the "Hive-Mind".
While the true extent of its range and abilities are unknown by analysts at the current time, documentation supplied by SimpsonLauer describe the ANT-2021 as a long-range neural transmission device, originally designed as head-ware in a braided network that culminates at the base of the skull. When worn and activated properly, the device has the ability to align itself with certain proprietary "frequencies" that allow telepathic control of arthropods. The type of arthropod controlled depends on the specific frequency and brainwave output. How this method of unilateral telepathic control is achieved is unknown by analysts at this time. SimpsonLauer representatives refuse to comment at this time on the nature of the ANT-2021.
Documentation provided by SLAT describe a maximum effective range of 1 mile.
SECTION Nº3: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
1. Marked due to the speculated language with which Clancy James communes with affected arthropods. Scientific legitimacy report pending. 2. True height is closer to 5'4"; suspect wears heeled boots to artificially raise height.
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.3 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
SUBJECT DOSSIER - FILE Nº O-4539-4
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED
Supposed it was his fault for comin' here. Was always rainy as shit whenever he was in New York City. Every time he used to come here for a conference, he'd have to bring a damn umbrella with him whenever he wanted to step two feet outside-- now was no different. It clung to the material of his outfit until he was practically sopping. Sloughed off the helmet, though. Tweaker was managing just fine too. If he complained about soggy shoulders, he'd look like a little bitch in front of the Thai girl. That was no good.
Especially since they were in public. Costumed fuckers walkin' around was certainly not a queer sight in these parts, but even then, the two of them stuck out like a thumb caught under the business end of a hammer. It didn't help that Clancy had the Zappers holstered on his hip-- that was more than enough to get a few odd looks.
"If I get asked for another picture with some snot-nosed brat, I'm 'bout to swarm somebody." He muttered indignantly, fiddling with one of the dials on his guns. Truth be told, he was a bit skittish about the whole thing. Hadn't done anything this big since his brief run with Aurum back in the day, and even then, it was just movin' trucks. Didn't even have a name for himself then. 'Course, he always told everyone that he was the big guy's chief enforcer, but... people didn't really buy that, nowadays. Besides, Aurum hadn't been sighted in months. Somebody spread a rumor that his plane crashed in the Andes back in September.
That would be him one day. The-- supervillain empire part, not the plane crash. And it all started here, at this Bank of America.
Tweaker followed in behind him, as a loyal henchman should. Clancy raised his gun to the ceiling and fired off an intimidating, albeit completely harmless, ray.
"THIS HERE'S A STICK-UP! EVERYONE GET DOWN ON THE GROUND, NOW! OR I'LL BUG YA!"
Most people moved to the ground. A few didn't, which included the bank tellers that were housed behind a thin slat of bulletproof glass. Bugout narrowed his eyes and trudged forward as Tweaker did... her thing, which included God-knew-what. The desk started shiftin' around, and he hopped over it with a little trip as one of his 2-inch heels caught the ground at an awkward angle. Damn fuckin' boots.
"You think we're playin' around, you sons'a bitches? Cockroaches, the lot of ya! Let me help demonstrate."
He pointed one of his zappers at the nearest teller through the glass, unholstering it from his belt and adjusting the knob on the back. A pixelated screen on the back cycled through various options before settling on PERIPLANETA AMERICANA. Clancy aimed, smirked under the mask, and fired--
DOCESZNIC MEMORIAL HOSPITAL AND METAHUMAN DEVELOPMENT FACILITY; WASHINGTON, D.C.
OWEN MCCORMACK REPORTING. MEDICAL RECOVERY AND RESEARCH IN PROGRESS.
All things considered, Owen had begun to recuperate with little complication.
The doctors didn't tell him much. A lack of information was worrying on its own, but given the fact that he felt relatively fine-- as fine as he could be after having a roof collapse upon him-- it wasn't too much of a cause for concern. Grymskull had dropped off a few things for him on his first few days, and both Basilica and Scramjet had given their thanks for his service at Atkinson. It was a bit surreal, to be on the receiving end of such attention. He was just a Junior Profiler, and all he had truly done was just do his job, but the commendation from his peers and superiors wasn't something he was going to shy away from. He just hoped that this would get him a promotion some time in the near future.
There were two doctors in the room when he had gotten notice of Ms. Smith's arrival. When asked if he wanted visitors at the time, Owen agreed to let her come in. The hospital staff promptly left to give them space, and he awaited his company for the day, idly working on his laptop-- a new one, given the previous model's unfortunate fate-- to pass the time away. Being bedridden was no excuse for skipping out on work.
Scramjet couldn't help but feel a little bad about singling the kid out. Unfortunate circumstances that were out of their control, sadly, so the least he could do was try and make it bearable for John while they got the heck outta dodge.
Rasmus called to the gathered crowd, motioning with his hand for them to make room as they walked.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"But, uh, thank you all for visiting. Be sure to check the Stone Foundation Gift Shoppe on your way out-- all proceeds go to relief efforts in Millennium City after the most recent attack."
The line hung in the air for a moment before Rasmus blinked and gave an apologetic glance to John.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"The dog thing. Not you. Don't worry,"
He whispered, the speaker in his helm dampening the output to keep out prying ears as they walked. His voice was a little filtered, almost bearing the same feel of radio correspondence. Truth be told, it was his idea-- the speaker-ish tone helped with a bit of a futuristic x-factor that completed the look. Scramjet's purple visor gleamed as he looked down at the kid, patting him on the shoulder.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"You kept collateral to a minimum, all things considered."
Scramjet filled the rest of the walk to the Sparrow Building with the usual boilerplate small-talk, though he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't like this part of the job.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"So. If you don't know already, I'm Special Agent Scramjet. This is MIRA, the Metahuman Incident Response Agency. We primarily deal with incident prediction and timely response involving parahuman threats. Metas, ghosts, magic, aliens-- the whole nine yards."
As they walked, the museum turned into a lobby, which turned into a small side-corridor that led to an underground tunnel; Scramjet swiped his wrist along a badge indicator, and the door swung open. He waited for John to step inside, then politely followed and took the lead once more. The tunnel was... a tunnel. Ventilation ran along the walls and ceiling. Not much to say, really-- most of the preliminary floors were designed to be unassuming in both appearance and function.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"So. You decide on a name yet, or am I gonna have to call you Mr. Wilbur out in the field? I've got a secret identity myself, so I get the desire for a bit of privacy if you want it."
The tunnel ended, punctuated with another door that opened up into a far more archaic looking lobby. It was like something out of the 60s, really, with the interior design and the large monitors at the front desk. A woman sat behind it, idly scrolling through a feed as they passed by. Scramjet nodded at her; she nodded at him. They passed by with little interruption.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Also-- you cool with giving me a rundown of your powers?"
Scramjet reflexively dropped the sloughed skin that suctioned itself to his suit, giving a grunt of small shock as Gawain sacrificed his own flesh to gain tactical advantage. He'd done this before-- at the MIRA adjunct facility in D.C., he'd thrown up his own lungs to keep a pressure vacuum from forming in his chest. The guy was a freak, and as much as Rasmus hated to admit it, the blatant disregard for biology had begun to creep him the hell out-- it didn't help that the fight had been consistently broken up with praise, like the guy had somehow been enjoying all of this. Then again, Carmen seemed a bit too enthused to sate her bloodlust as well, willing as she was to go all-out. Scramjet retreated in the water as Carmen and Grymskull engaged, the Juror and demon working together with a satisfying amount of synergy as he repositioned a bit closer Basilica.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Good effect on missiles, J3,"
Rasmus barked into his comms, shooting a glance over to his somewhat-distant wife as he spoke a bit more calmly. Helped when she could hear him from just about any radius.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Ready to execute what we'd planned. Brain surgery. Need you in position, not sure how long he'll stay put. Slippery little--"
A thundercrack ripped his attention away from the short conversation, and Scramjet's eyes widened as he was met with the sight of Grymskull's body, thrown like a ragdoll towards the fringes. A jet of air ejected from the vents of the helmet's jaw, the Juror shaking his head as he prepared to move back in.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"J3, sit-rep on vitals? You're the one that can regenerate, can't have you quitting on me now."
Grymskull seemed to be fine enough, judging from the way he threw himself back into the fight like a bat out of hell. Took a licking, kept on ticking, as per usual. Rasmus coordinated his approach with the Juror's, picking up his pace and running in a longer arc around the fight to determine the best space to approach.
A good thing he did, too, considering what happened next.
Gawain charged Oni-Girl head on, and then there was a flash-- the Juror had been running at an angle, thankfully, which meant he had been mostly spared from being blinded as something built up in front of-- no, inside-- Gawain's head and promptly blew up. Almost immediately, a shockwave erupted from the epicenter of the tackle, prompting Scramjet's perception to dilate as his body kicked up into overdrive from the stimulants inside his body. Sympathetic regulation-- his adrenal gland pumped out as much adrenaline and noradrenaline that the body could handle, slowing down the world around him as his body and mind adjusted to the stress response. Only two considerations were given-- the fact that an enormous detonation had just occurred inside Gawain's head, and the fact that, in the split-second leading up to the explosion, SR had reported a ludicrous amount of gamma ray detection within the RED-7's forehead-- the comms report was still fabricating itself on the HUD of his visor as he pushed himself into a sprint. The travel time of the shockwave was too strong and too fast to completely neutralize, but he could get some defense in. Or try, at the very least. Carmen would be fine from the blast, most likely, as would Kore-- and Grymskull had a regenerative factor that could repair any damage to his genes from radiation, hopefully. That left him and Basilica, who had already been at the fringes of the battlefield-- up in the air, a perfect target for radioactive fallout to hit.
To any onlooker, Scramjet's body became a blur. Wind ripped into the space he traveled through, water spraying up and forming a pressure vacuum in an arc to, hopefully, mollify some of the force of the shockwave that was bound to hit the barrier. Just turning a few degrees at a time nearly caused him to pass out as he fought against the resistance the brackish water brought, but he hauled forward, pushing himself towards his wife and arriving, in his own relative time-frame, after a few seconds. No way he could stop-- the momentum change of breaking would break his legs and kill him. Instead, Scramjet angled his pumped arm, closed a fist, and pulled down as he ran past, attempting to capture Basilica in the turbulent gale that followed him and throw her into the brackish water of the marsh. The shockwave would be lessened by the barrier she was on the other side of, hopefully lessening any trauma to the organs under the tide, and the water would act as a shield from most of the ionizing radiation that was about to erupt from Gawain. The explosion had already caused the release of radiation, of course-- he couldn't run faster than subatomic particles-- but it would hopefully prevent further harm. Just in time, too-- the shockwave caught up with him not a second later, taking him by surprise after putting all his focus on Basilica. The force swept him of his feet, effectively tripping him face-first, and his body slammed into the swamp at transonic speeds.
The world, predictably, went black for a few moments. And, to the onlookers, Scramjet fell hard. His body went in a predictably straight line as he fell, tumbling over himself as his pathing generated a high spray of water behind him. He'd ran on water before-- open oceans, lakes. Never a marsh with this amount of debris, though. The end result was usually the same on a wipe-out, his body crashing not unlike a water-skiier; granted, a water-skiier travelling near the speed of sound, but the physics were the same. As he careened along the water, his body skipped on the surface-- the first, dislocating his shoulder as it met the resistance of the water and rotated his body over itself, and the second throwing him directly into a gathering of downed trees that'd been half-submerged in Duskburg's swamp. Predictably, Scramjet cracked against the wood and broke through it, the impact mercifully slowing down some of his momentum as his body rolled over itself again and came to a complete stop. There, his body remained still for more than a comfortable period of time, face-down in the water and barely buoyant.
Senses returned, gradually, a few moments later. The first stimulus was a persistent, blaring ring in the ears-- from the suit or his own body, he didn't know. The second was the sensation of chocking on salted, muddy water, his visor breached by the impact and flooding with liquid.
Reflexively, Scramjet pulled himself upright, falling against a mound of mud that'd stuck out above the water level and gasping. He knew where he was-- he could think. Somehow, he'd avoided direct concussion. Thank God for his helmet. The rest of the suit, though, fared worse-- plates taken off of his midsection and legs, scratches up and down the material that were more than a few inches deep from his tangle with the rock and wood of his impact site. The joints of his suit had, thankfully, locked up mid-trip, preventing any major overextension or loss of limbs-- a precaution that had been planned for from the start, no matter the situation. Still, his left shoulder burned with pain even through the massive amounts of adrenaline in his system, and he could barely move the thing. He bent his arm at the elbow and pressed his palm flat to his side, suctioning the hand there in a makeshift brace; it'd have to do for now.
Placing the limb there, though, only brought further problems to his attention. Any pressure on his midsection brought a very sharp and very precise pain on the ipsilateral side, right underneath the suctioned hand, and he glanced down to see what the damage was. Slowly, he closed his eyes, muttering something foul under his breath and patching into his comms.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Be advised, took a bad spill. F-foreign object through the lower left abdomen. Think it missed my intestines and kidney..."
He hoped. A particularly large branch, about the width of his wrist, had been pierced clean through the suit and into his body from his impact against the tree. Scramjet suctioned his good hand against the wood and pulled, wrenching it free and releasing a pressurized jet of his own blood out into the air, bullet-like and misted. Quickly, he placed his hand over the wound and applied pressure, forcing a clot as quickly as he could with the aid of his power. Then, knowing every second he was out of the fight was a moment wasted, Rasmus moved to his feet with a sharp groan of pain out of his lips. No open air touched his face, thankfully, but the crack in his visor was enough to let water leak in. Brackish liquid gathered at the bottom of his helmet, draining out of the ventilation as he switched off the now-broken LED overlay of his helmet and walked forward.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"SR, be advised, still got my running legs. Basilica, Grym, I need you on me for this next part, yeah? Let's make it count."
His entire body felt like it was about to collapse-- he was on borrowed time, right now. Adrenaline could only dull the pain and sharpen his mind so long before his damned capillaries gave out. Not having a heart was nice, but his body could find ways to fail in more creative ways. Last thing he needed was his blood pressure turning him into a neat little bomb. Scramjet brought himself up to pace as quickly as he could manage, breaking into a run and keeping his bad arm and side as stabilized as possible. Sprinting was off the table, now, but he didn't need speed. No, for this next trick, what he needed was the opposite: low, and slow.
Carmen and, predictably, Kore were already so kind as to engage the Frenchman, providing an apt opportunity to come up behind Gawain as the Oni-Girl sought to tear him straight in half. The RED-7 had already been looking worse for wear-- puncture and slashing wounds from shurikens, blunt force trauma from extreme-force punches, and damage from missiles and vacuum pressure tended to do that. Then again, most people on the battlefield looked like they'd taken a beating, too, so it was imperative that they put him down, and fast.
A shard disengaged from Scramjet's hip, grabbed by his one good hand as he rushed forward, trying to keep himself along Gawain's blindspot as he approached from behind-- the only predictor of his arrival being the gentle slosh of water, hopefully veiled under sound of combat. When he was in range, Scramjet reeled his hand back, clutched the ceramic shard in his hand, and stabbed it-- aiming the point directly for Gawain's ear, trying to push it into the canal and wedge it as deep as it could go. A better spot would've been the eye, for their purposes, but he had to make do. Scramjet followed up the stab by falling back and drop-kicking both of Gawain's knees, driving his heels into the back of the RED-7's legs to offer up as much leverage to Carmen as he could with what strength he had.
No quips, this time. Only orders, hoarse and urgent.
Robbing a bank was damn near the easiest thing Clancy James had ever done.
Certainly easier than gettin' his God-damn arthropodology degree, that was for sure. It was an awful thing, being as smart as him. Women were attracted to power, but it was never in the way Clancy excelled-- the power of money. The power of charisma. The power of looks. The power of resisting the urge to transform people into swarms of insects. That last one was more a weakness, he thought, but of course society had their rules and their laws to stop the true and rightful rulers of the world from rising up and taking what was rightfully theirs. What was rightfully his.
"Laughin' a moment ago, weren't ya?" Clancy purred into his hostage's ear, setting the bags on the ground. Tweaker got 'em for the job-- he hated the way they looked, but he wasn't about to waste more money on getting bags, of all things. A single thought diverted a portion of the cockroaches into the vault, where they began to transport money by the horde into the waiting burlap sacks. A conveyer belt, comprised entirely of bug, was at his waiting fingertips. The industrial applications of his power on a gigantic scale... God, he was shiverin' at the thought. A titan of industry-- BUGOUT INC., better than the gangs of the Bronx or Manhattan or anything Aurum or Mettle could ever dream of makin'. And it all started here.
With enough of the bags filled, Bugout gathered his ill-gotten gains and slung one over his back, hoisting up another two in one hand-- barely lifting it off the ground on the first try, with a successful attempt on his second go-around. He kept his gun in his hand, pinning the closed mouths of the sacks against the large handle of the BUG ZAPPER as he aimed it square at the woman's chest. "You've been a wonderful hostage, darlin', but I'm afraid this is where I take my flight. You best remember that BUGOUT robbed ya, BITCH!" A pistol-whip sent her to the ground, and then he was off-- sprinting through the vault. Double-fisting it, too, since momma didn't raise no nancyboy. However, upon seeing his henchman-- or, what he gathered to be her, seeing as a shark was currently rampagin' through the lobby-- in distress, he decided to have a moment of heartless remorse. He dropped one of the moneybags to the ground and dug into the pants of his suit.
A conspicuous bulge in his pants was drawn upwards to the hemline, and--
-- a wad of meat sprang free, clutched in his hands as he giggled with malevolent intent. He reeled back his arm and hucked the raw ball into the lobby, aiming midair with his BUG ZAPPER as he cried out.
"BUG BOMB!"
Had to name your moves, after all. A single ray shot out as Bugout aimed for the flying hunk of meat; it went wide and bounced off a mirror, ricocheting through the room. A second shot hit the thing dead-on-- after it hit the ground, but nobody was keeping track-- and the meat exploded into a swarm of angered, flying wasps. The setting on the zapper read PEPSIS THISBE: tarantula hawks. Most painful sting in the world, those little pretties. He shuddered to think what it'd feel like to have a cloud of 'em doing it all at the same time. The wasps spread out-- some went for the one that'd thrown the chair at him, while others swarmed the pair of heroes that'd shown up uninvited. One thing was for sure, though. He was out of here.
"TWEAKER! LET'S BUG OUT!"
He was Bugout, after all. That was when he picked up the burlap sacks-- each of them sporting a very crisp and green dollar sign on their exteriors-- and dove through the drive-thru window of the bank, shattering through and landing in a face-plant on the pavement. He rolled to the side, tripped upon picking himself up, and promptly sprinted through the booth out onto the open street, ducking into an alleyway as policemen began to fire.
"I'M BUGOUT! THAT'S WHO ROBBED YA! NOT METTLE, NOT LEGION! NOT AURUM, NOT SURGATH! IT'S ME!"
OCCUPATION [IF APPLICABLE] REGION OF OPERATIONS COMMON PSEUDONYMS FILE Nº
HEIGHT WEIGHT BUILD BLOOD TYPE
HAIR COLOR | TYPE EYE COLOR VISION LATERALITY
MIRA DESIGNATE:
ADAM RICHTER 06/21/1993
UNITED STATES WHITE CAUCASIAN ENGLISH (5)
POLITICAL METAHUMAN ADVOCATE MIDWESTERN UNITED STATES "THE SOLORION MAN", "SOLORION" O-2867-7
5'10" (1.78 m.) 198 lbs. (89.8 kg.)[1] MESOMORPH BUILD N/A[2]
BLONDE | TYPE 1B BLUE 20/15[3] AMBIDEXTROUS
ORG-7
SECTION Nº2: CONDENSED ANALYST ASSESSMENT
I. METAHUMAN FACTORS.
A. PRETERNATURAL GENETIC MARKERS
Adam Richter possesses an alarmingly complex metahuman factor-structure as documented by biological scribes at Facility X. Cellular biopsies have revealed that his metabolic structures and mitochondria are unnaturally resistant to trauma, and possesses distinct photosynthetic plastids that would most commonly be found in plant-based organisms.
II. SPECIALIZATIONS AND SKILLS.
A. APPLIED ARTHROPODOLOGY AND BIOLOGICAL ENGINEERING.
Clancy James graduated magna cum laude from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, having been educated in Biomedical Engineering with a minor in Arthropodology. Much of his pre-criminal career was spent merging both disciplines; at SimpsonLauer Applied Technologies, James was involved heavily in a proprietary project involving the applications of arthropod physiology to real-world prosthetic systems and biological enhancements. James' expertise seems to lie particularly in the structure and biology of various arthropods; confidential documents recently disclosed to the public through anonymous whistleblowers (see the Lauer Affair) have brought further detail as to the extent of SimpsonLauer's research into mutative equipment. Clancy James in particular seems to have the most in-depth working knowledge as to the function and composition of this equipment and research, as he is currently in possession of a FACTOR-4 bioweapon.
III. EQUIPMENT.
A. AMRA-2021 "BUG-ZAPPER"
Clancy James' primary weapon, as documented by eyewitnesses and police bodycamera footage, is a working prototype stolen from his previous place of work (SimpsonLauer). While originally an integral part of a greater imaging machine designed to merge organic cells through undisclosed proprietary means, Clancy James appears to have retrofitted the central focusing apparatus and outfitted the component with several rudimentary modifications to give it the appearance and function of a short-range directed energy weapon (DEW). Most superficially, it bears resemblance to a gun, though the nature of the component and James' retrofitted additions give the weapon the appearance of a nonconventional raygun. This has lead multiple witnesses and victims to underestimate the function and lethality of the firearm.
The AMRA-2021 (Adaptive Mutative Radiation Apparatus, 2021) has the speculated ability to transform organic carbon-based matter into a self-replicating intelligent biomass. In simpler terms, through an unknown mechanism within the central component, the AMRA-2021 transforms any organic matter it strikes into a swarm of living arthropods. How this is achieved is largely unknown, and speculated to be the result of mutative radiation stemming from proprietary equipment developed within SimpsonLauer Applied Technologies. Any beam fired from the AMRA-2021 is inherently lethal and produces a runoff effect from the affected region until the entire mass of organic matter is fully consumed and transformed. The resultant classification of arthropod that arises from a converted mass was initially though to be random; however, algorithm-enhanced security footage of Clancy James' improvised weapon appears to show a dial and setting function on the side of each firearm (he is in possession of two firearms, each of which is identical in purpose).
Clancy James has been overheard in audio footage as tactlessly referring to the modified AMRA-2021s as "Bug-Zappers".
B. ANT-2021 "HIVE-MIND"
The secondary proprietary SimpsonLauer device in Clancy James' possession is the Adaptive Neural Transmitter (2021), nicknamed by Clancy James as the "Hive-Mind".
While the true extent of its range and abilities are unknown by analysts at the current time, documentation supplied by SimpsonLauer describe the ANT-2021 as a long-range neural transmission device, originally designed as head-ware in a braided network that culminates at the base of the skull. When worn and activated properly, the device has the ability to align itself with certain proprietary "frequencies" that allow telepathic control of arthropods. The type of arthropod controlled depends on the specific frequency and brainwave output. How this method of unilateral telepathic control is achieved is unknown by analysts at this time. SimpsonLauer representatives refuse to comment at this time on the nature of the ANT-2021.
Documentation provided by SLAT describe a maximum effective range of 1 mile.
SECTION Nº3: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
1. Marked due to the speculated language with which Clancy James communes with affected arthropods. Scientific legitimacy report pending. 2. True height is closer to 5'4"; suspect wears heeled boots to artificially raise height.
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.3 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
SUBJECT DOSSIER - FILE Nº O-4539-4
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED
OCCUPATION [IF APPLICABLE] REGION OF OPERATIONS COMMON PSEUDONYMS FILE Nº
HEIGHT WEIGHT BUILD BLOOD TYPE
HAIR COLOR | TYPE EYE COLOR VISION LATERALITY
MIRA DESIGNATE:
ADAM RICHTER 06/21/1993
UNITED STATES WHITE CAUCASIAN ENGLISH (5)
POLITICAL METAHUMAN ADVOCATE MIDWESTERN UNITED STATES "THE SOLORION MAN", "SOLORION" O-2867-7
5'10" (1.78 m.) 198 lbs. (89.8 kg. MESOMORPH BUILD N/A
BLONDE | TYPE 1B BLUE 20/20 AMBIDEXTROUS
ORG-7[1]
SECTION Nº2: CONDENSED ANALYST ASSESSMENT
I. METAHUMAN FACTORS.
A. PRETERNATURAL GENETIC MARKERS
Adam Richter possesses an alarmingly complex metahuman factor-structure as documented by biological scribes at Facility X. Cellular biopsies have revealed that his metabolic structures and mitochondria are unnaturally resistant to trauma, and possesses distinct photosynthetic plastids that would most commonly be found in plant-based organisms.
Inferences drawn from available DNA sampling are based on conjecture. The specifics by which Richter’s cells process energy and release it on such a large scale are thought to be due to durable thylakoid membranes which allow extremely efficient photosynthetic reactions to take place. This supports the prevailing theory that the Solorion Man appears to be some sort of photoautotrophic organism; the presence of nuclei in available harvested cells further supports that his cells are eukaryotic in nature. The origin of these mutations is, once again, based on conjecture; attempts at correspondence with Paula Richter, alleged biological mother of Solorion, have all been unsuccessful. Additional evidence taken from Facility X records indicate that his cells may largely subsist off of ionized particulates and free-floating electrons, suggesting that Solorion’s cells may instead be classified as electrotrophic under standard conditions for some sort of anaerobic respiration.
The effects of Adam Richter’s reinforced cellular structure is two-fold; the first, and most obvious, mutation is the extreme durability of skeletal, muscular, and skin tissue. Small-arms fire is completely ineffective; higher-caliber cannons and larger ballistic weaponry appear to have a miniscule effect at best, with analysis of available footage taken from the RED-7 TOPEKA INCIDENT corroborating this assessment. Additionally, Richter possesses the ability to output an extreme amount of force, whether this be through innate muscular strength or the usage of his primary factor.
B. PRIMARY FACTOR - PLASMAKINESIS
The Solorion Man possesses the ability to manipulate and generated superheated regions of plasma.
This is speculated to occur through a secondary function of Adam Richter’s mutated thylakoids. As seen in the RED-7 TOPEKA INCIDENT, Solorion’s primary demonstration of plasmakinesis is the generation and sustenance of localized regions of ionized clouds, heretofor referred to as SUNSPOTS for the purpose of this document. These sunspots, when generated, have been speculated to burn as hot as 150,000 K— a temperature higher than most stars— with conservative estimates based on available thermal readings of the environment at Topeka post-incident placing the effective temperature at the lower end of 100,000 K.
Adam Richter also possesses the ability to warp and extend bands of plasma from his body, similar to a star’s coronal mass ejection event during solar flares and other phases of solar activity. These bands, coupled with the ability to generate and eject rippling trails of ionized particles from the eyes, make Solorion an extreme threat to engage in close-quarters combat; long-range engagement tactics and the usage of proxy parties— such as drones or similarly non-living subjects— is advised if Solorion reaches an aggressive state. Since his willing incarceration post-Topeka and subsequent release from Facility X after a lenient sentencing by the Metahuman Parole Board, Adam Richter has had no further criminal activities added to his record, to the best knowledge of the Metahuman Incident Response Agency. Solorion is an outspoken critic of metahuman incarceratory facilities and treatment of factor-latent individuals in the court of law. Additionally, he has been known to be a staunch proponent for metahuman civil rights advocacy.
II. SPECIALIZATIONS AND SKILLS.
A. PUBLIC SPEAKING.
The Solorion Man has demonstrated a decent skill in public speaking. His position as a political advocate for metahumans has resulted in him gaining a small following; neural investigations of supporters shared with MIRA have shown no evidence of foul psychic play or mental manipulation of any kind. Further investigation needed to determine Solorion’s risk as a threat to American interests following the de-escalation of his threat level from RED to ORANGE.
III. EQUIPMENT.
A. CUSTOM-TAILORED FLIGHT SUIT
Adam Richter possesses a light-blue, grey, and black flight suit, the material of which is presently unknown at this time.
B. FOCUSING LENS MASK
Solorion also possesses a mask, metal in design with high-strength composite glass lenses over each eyeport. These lenses— along with unseen internal components of the mask— appear to focus the generation of plasma within Solorion’s eyes, funneling the commonly rippling and unstable geometry of the bands into honed points or small bursts. Given the extreme temperatures of the plasma being focused through the apparatus of the mask, analysts predict that the equipment in question may be frequently replaced.
SECTION Nº3: DOCUMENT APPENDIX
SECTION NO.1 FOOTNOTES.
1. Tentative rating given due to Solorion’s status as a metahuman terrorist prior to incarceration at Facility X. Threat rating subject to re-assessment at any time.
SECTION NO.2 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
SECTION NO.3 FOOTNOTES.
N/A.
END DOCUMENT
SUBJECT DOSSIER - FILE Nº O-2867-7
FILE COPY - DO NOT DISTRIBUTE - MIRA DOSSIER ENCLOSED