The Dark Shadow

1891

He was running out of time.
Detective Inspector Darren Blake of Scotland Yard sprinted down the narrow corridor, which displayed a rather strange, yet sophisticated appearance of crimson wallpaper with gold-framed oil paintings set at regular intervals. There was a small amount of ambient lighting, the only thing which allowed the detective to see were the small, white candles that flickered as he ran past.
On his journey down the corridor, he drew his Smith & Wesson Model 67 revolver from the inside of his jacket. He cocked the hammer with his thumb so he was ready to fire, which was almost undoubtedly going to happen.
He reached the end of the corridor. There was an old pine door in front of him. It had a gold handle, and was shut.
There was a shuffling noise from within, and the gentle clicking sound as someone cocked a hammer from a revolver.
When the detective entered, which he would, he had to be ready for two people. The two distinct sounds had come from opposite sides of the room.
The clicking noise from the revolver sounded exactly like his own, so at least one of them had a firearm.
He knew when he opened the door, the man with the revolver would aim at him, so he would have to push the man’s arm aside to avoid being killed. If he timed it right, which he knew he would, the man would shoot his comrade, who was the one who made the shuffling noise. This would, at least, take care of one of the men inside the room.
Of course, the man armed with the revolver would fire a blind punch at him, which he would have to counter with a forearm block. To twist the gun out of the man’s grip, however, he would need both hands free.
He put his revolver away.
The detective twisted the handle rather violently and opened the door quickly. The man with the revolver was stood behind the door, and immediately aimed at him. He grasped the man’s twist and forced it to the right. As the armed man pulled the trigger, he shot the other person who was in the room with him.
As the detective figured, the blind punch came and he countered it just as quick as it came. He twisted the gun out of the man’s grip, then spun underneath his flailing arm and slammed his elbow into the man’s stomach.
The man doubled over, and Darren used the revolver to club the man over the head.
At the back of the room, there was an acute hole in the floor, and he could see the top of a steel ladder that ran down the side of the building.
"Bloody hell," he said in his thick London accent. He had to hurry up, otherwise the suspect would escape.
He ran to the ladder, placed his gloved hands either side of it. He slid down the ladder, then as he reached London street level, he started sprinting, after taking a small moment to make sure his dark blue bow tie was level.
The detective wore a dark grey fedora, with a brown single-breasted suit jacket and black trousers. He drew his gun again.
Though rather clever, the detective’s shooting skills left a lot to be desired. The only gun he could even remotely shoot anything with was his Smith and Wesson. Other than that, he doubted he could shoot anything at point blank, even. And yet, no matter how hard he trained, his marksmanship never got any better.
He saw the man in the top hat – the suspect – run down a dark alley. He knew that it was a dead end, rather literally if he remembered the map of London right. It was a small cliff, perhaps fifty metres tall, which had recently suffered from cliff collapse due to the heavy rainfall that had happened the week before.
It was rather ironic considering the man’s crime. A few days ago he had killed a man with the exact same cliff that he was going to fall down. He, however, was going to save his rather excellent explanation for when he caught him.
He heard the man shout as he turned into the alley and followed him. There was a slight drizzle of rain in the air, which formed tiny droplets on his face and clothing.
The detective reached the cliff, and looked down. The man was hanging on a ridge about the size of a palm, which was rather unsteady. The soil was breaking apart, even as he watched.
"How ironic," he began, "You were killed by the very thing you used to kill."
"How did you figure it out?" the man asked through gritted teeth as he tried to hang on. He had a small amount of stubble on his chin, a flat nose and brown eyes with bushy eyebrows. His hair was all hidden underneath the top hat.
"Salt. On the cliff edge. This is what happened:" the detective said, "You wanted to buy the land that Mr Stevenson owned. But he refused to sell. So you decided to kill him. But you needed a way that would promise his death without linking you to the crime. Then the storm came, and that gave you an idea. You got brine. That’s sodium chloride solution, and poured a very large amount of it on top of the cliff. You made two electrodes out of graphite, and stuck them in the ground. During the lightning storm, you used electrolysis on the solution which would, if we were smart enough to ask you about it, provide an excellent cover. We would have thought the lightning had caused it. Anyway, chlorine and hydrogen were produced as gases and escaped, and the chlorine was smelt by a farmer nearby. But that wasn’t the only thing that was a result of that, was it? Sodium hydroxide. An extremely powerful alkali. In the rain it formed a solution and ran down into the well, Mr Stevenson’s water supply. He then drank the sodium hydroxide solution, and was corroded inside. You then bought his land, and tried to manufacture illegal drugs. Am I right?"
The ground the man had a grip on suddenly dropped down a metre or so, slamming the man’s legs against another part of the cliff. The detective stayed calm.
"But there were two things that gave you away," he continued, "The waxy residue on your boot, and the burn on your hand from the sodium hydroxide solution where you accidentally spilt it on yourself. It was a good, perhaps a plan of genius, even. But you made crucial mistakes. You are arrested for the murder of Mr George Stevenson and the production of illegal drugs. You used your impressive skills as a chemist, just as I used mine."
He took a small cane out of the inside of his jacket then flicked it outwards. It doubled in size. His cane was something he was proud of. It was telescopic, and that allowed for easy transport.
The man grasped the cane and the detective pulled him up the cliff.
Suddenly, the man lashed out and tried to catch him with a punch to the face. The detective slapped his hand away with his cane then swiped his feet from underneath him.
As the man landed on the floor, the detective forced his hands behind his back and clicked handcuffs in place.
"At least I have something to say at your court trial," the detective said with a grin.

He exited Scotland Yard with a praise from the chief of police. He walked through the charted London streets, his mind full of different suspects of Jack The Ripper.
The man – the murderer – had evaded him for around a year. No matter how close he thought he was to solving the case, something always cropped up which meant his theory had been proven wrong. It was a completely open case, yes, there were suspects, but no evidence to back his accusations up. No one, ever, managed to evade him for over a year. No one.
"Oh hello!" said someone from next to him. He turned his head.
"Robert, what the hell are you doing here?" the detective asked. Robert was his oldest friend. They had known each other… twenty. No, twenty-one years. Robert always wore a grey top hat and a grey suit, with a black cane. He sometimes assisted him with his investigations. Sometimes.
"Oh, well, I have just come back from France. They are strange, them lot…"
"How so?"
"They eat frogs. I mean, they rip the legs off frogs and eat them. Oh, and snails."
"That’s disgusting."
"Indeed."
"I have just solved another crime," the detective pointed out.
"What would that be?"
"The man who killed Mr Stevenson. He is in prison and awaiting trial."
"Congratulations. I noticed there were several crimes reported in the newspapers…"
"Such as?"
"The person who stole Mrs Buckinghamshire’s money."
"The butler. Anything else?"
"The ammunition going missing at the Fort."
"That would be the general there," he pointed out, then raised his finger and said, "Because everyone knows that he’s corrupt." He gave a slight shrug.
"Is there any crime you haven’t solved?"
"Jack The Ripper."
"No one can catch him. You know what rumours are going around? They say he’s a demon."
"Superstitious lot."
"How are your shooting skills?"
"They actually still need work."
"And your martial arts?"
"Improved."
"And your personal hygiene?"
"Still the same. Still brilliant."
"There’s another thing I want you to look at. A murder on Rosegarth Avenue. No suspects, no murder weapon, the victim was taken out by nothing, it seems."
"Sounds interesting. I will investigate immediately."
"Let’s go, then."
"I can’t right now."
"You said immediately."
"A different immediately. I have a small errand to make."
"Then why say immediately if it’s not immediately?"
"It is immediately, just a different immediately."
"So when is your immediately?"
"Three o’clock."
"It’s now nine forty five."
The detective shrugged, "Three is immediately."
"You confuse me."
"You amuse me."
"Goodbye Detective Blake."
"Goodbye Robert."

When Robert arrived at Rosegarth Avenue he was rather surprised to see that the detective was not there. He did a full circle of the house, but the only person who he saw was a man with a small cat in his arms. As he reached the front of the house again the man walked up to him. He was wearing a black fedora and a black suit.
"Robert," the man said, "Good to see you."
In a flash, the man had taken off his coat and turned it inside out, and returned it back to his body, showing a new brown suit. He also reversed his hat, giving it his trademark grey fedora.
He also pulled off the beard he had stuck on to his own chin.
"A very nice disguise," Robert pointed out.
"Fairly adequate for remaining inconspicuous around a crime scene."
"So what have you found out?"
"I haven’t actually entered yet," Blake said, shrugging his shoulders slightly that only the minute crinkle in the material of his suit gave it away, "But something I could tell is that the murderer didn’t break in. The lock isn’t broken, neither are any of the windows."
"Which would mean that the victim knew who the murderer was?"
"Most likely."
"Let’s go in, then."
Blake led the way through the front door, which was open. This would have, in theory, meant that the victim wouldn’t have locked it again upon the entrance of the murderer, once again hinting at the possibility that the victim knew the attacker.
He made his way into the living room.
Even though he was completely expecting a bloody mess all over the room, there were only distinct crimson markings on the wall. The body, however, was that of a young woman, who looked about twenty. She had black hair and had a round, rather beautiful face. She wore a red dress that finished at about her knee. She had no injuries, and there was no blood on the floor. It would look as if she was sleeping, but her face was pale and relaxed.
"Her name is Tara Rhodes. She’s an upper class woman, single, and lives here with her cat," Robert informed him.
As he stepped over the body, the cat was dead on the floor next to her. Again with no injuries or blood that he could see.
"This will be a hard one," Blake mused.
The markings on the wall, he saw, spelt letters.
"Beware of The Dark Shadow" it read.
"That is most interesting," he pointed out, "Have you ever heard of The Dark Shadow?"
"Not to my knowledge," Robert replied, thoughtfully stroking his short moustache, "Aren’t all shadows dark?"
"Her dress hasn’t been upset," Blake told him, "It is perfectly shaped, so she didn’t try and defend herself. There’s no scuffing like there would be if there was a struggle, so that rules out injections and most conventional means of murder."
"Perhaps something in the air?"
"When did this murder happen?"
"About two hours ago."
"All the windows are closed," Blake said, "The time it would take to circulate the air around the house and for the probably heavier substance within it to escape the room for us to breathe would have been a lot longer. There is even no residue on the floor from where it would have fallen."
"Poison?"
"That wouldn’t explain the blood on the wall. There’s something else at work here, Robert. We’ll need to examine the body."
As he glanced over the body he noticed a thin sheet of parchment slightly protruding from the woman’s hand, "Wait one moment," he told Robert.
He knelt next to her and slid the piece of parchment out from underneath her hand, slightly making her hand into a fist as he did so.
Blake uncurled it, then looked at the faint, black, curved lettering that filled up the brown tinted parchment.
"The secret lies with Barry and Pugin."
Blake showed the parchment to Robert.
"What do you think it means?" Robert questioned.
The detective thought for a moment, "Well the secret implies that there’s something… missing, something hidden, something invisible. Barry and Pugin…"
"I know someone called Barry."
"As do I, but in this particular case Barry is not a first name."
"How do you know?"
"Pugin. Barry and Pugin were the ones to design the new Houses of Parliament after it was destroyed in 1834."
"So there’s something hidden in the Houses of Parliament?"
"Possibly. This is our first clue, Robert. I’ll get the professor in to have a look at the body, to see how this girl died. Then we will give Parliament a visit."
"Do you think we’ll be allowed?" Robert asked.
Blake smiled, "No. But that has never stopped me before. I have a plan."

Unit 10

Name (of group): Unit 10.

Names: Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo and Foxtrot.

Ages: Unknown.

Nationality: Unknown, but they use a voice distorter so any accent is unrecognisable.

Personalities: Unknown. All is known is that they will do anything to accomplish their mission.

Appearance:

Magical Ability: They can control electronic objects, most notably their planes.

Vehicles: An F-22 Raptor with an artificial intelligence inside.

Weapons: Every jet is installed with air-to-ground missiles, air-to-air missiles, heat tracking missiles, aeroplane lock missiles, building implosion missiles, ground penetration (and timed) missiles, and 2 machine guns. However, Unit 10 also carry AK-47s if they have to bail out of their plane in enemy territory.

Random - an OC who can't hurt people for Kalia.

Name: Spongeball Roundpants.

Gender: None.

Age: 500000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000.

Appearance:

Personality: None.

Weapons: None.

History: Was a ball, continued to be a ball, and things were very ballish for it.

Vehicle: None.

Friends: None, as it is a ball.

Unit 13

A group which I will be doing a fanfic on, as soon as I've finished these OCs.


Name: Unit 13 - (no one knows the names of the members) Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Zeta (code names).

Ages: Unknown.

Appearances: Every single member wears silver body armour, and silver full-face helmets. As shown below (HALO picture, just concentrate on the helmet and the body armour):

Personalities: Unknown.

Magical Abilities: All of them are Elementals.

Occupation: A squad of ex-soldiers who have saved the world more times than any of them can remember. They are usually employed by the Sanctuary, but need no help from them to be moved into taking action against a bad guy.

Weapons: Each of them carries a XM8 Prototype rifle, and have near-perfect aiming. That is only their main weapon: They carry pistols, swords and knives as well. On top of that, their body armour enhances their muscles due to robotics, and makes them extra-strong. Beta and Epsilon have specialised weapons, as Beta is a good engineer, and Epsilon is a good sniper, however, they both carry XM8 rifles as well.

Mode of Transport: A black Apache helicopter, as they generally parachute into target locations. Zeta (the pilot) normally says with the helicopter during missions, for a quick get away.

History: The group was formed during the magical war with Mevolent. They led a strike team into Lord Vile's HQ, and faced him, but only managed to injure him, before he escaped. It is rumoured they have something to do with the death of Mevolent himself, but it is unknown what.
During every large battle in the last century, they have been involved in, in some way. They are more of a strike team than an actual army.



Fighting Style-

Alpha, the squad leader, was the first to jump out of the black Apache helicopter. The rotar blades thudded around them in regular motions, and the dark sky was perfect for their stealth. Alpha went into free fall, and looked up as Beta, Gamma and Epsilon followed him.
He spread his arms out, and directed himself towards the building that was their target by pushing the air. He screamed towards the large factory, completely invisible in the moonlight.
When he estimated that he was within slowing distance, he pulled a cord that was coming out from his plastic backpack. There was a jolt as his parachute opened, and he fell towards the large factory-type building that lay below him. The wind was whistling past his helmet, and as he neared the target, he took a grenade from his belt and took the pin out.
He threw the grenade at the building, it bounced on the roof before exploding. It shattered the bricks around it and made a hole below Alpha. He disappeared through the hole in the roof, and landed on a stone floor.
Alpha raised his XM8 Prototype rifle, just as Beta, Gamma and Epsilon landed next to him.
A man was crouched over a computer screen, watching as a timer counted down from 1 hour.
"Freeze!" Alpha shouted, aiming his rifle at the man, "Stop the nuclear blast or you'll die."
The man turned around, "Unit 13, how very good timing. I was just about to decrease the time limit by half."
Beta growled, "How can you use a magical/nuclear bomb to destroy the world, you scum?"
The man smiled, "This bomb is a stroke of genius. It fires a nuclear blast, aided by magic, which will destroy the whole world, I am not scum, I am a genius."
Gamma sighed, "We're going to have to put a bullet in his head, aren't we?"
Epsilon nodded, "I believe we are."
Each of their voices sounded exactly the same due to a voice transformer built into their helmets. It distorted their voices, and made them unrecognisable.
Alpha twitched his rifle, "Stop the countdown, now."
"And you really think I'd try and destroy the world without help, don't you?" the man asked, and a door to Alpha's left opened. Another one to Gamma's right slid open with a hiss, and hundreds of zombies piled into the large room.
"Oh..." Alpha managed to say, just as the zombie horde closed in on them.
They stumbled towards them, mouthes open, a hungry look in their eyes. Alpha spun around, and fired a full magazine of bullets into the horde. Zombie after zombie was mown down by the rounds, but the ones behind them quickly filled in the gaps.
They were forced into a tight circle, firing randomly into the crowd. Thirty perished in seconds. A hundred in less than a minute. The zombies were all around them now, jaws clenching together with the thought of having brains for their dinner.
Beta dropped to his knees and emptied a magazine of bullets at knee-level at the zombies. Those shot collapsed and were crushed.
Alpha slotted another magazine into his gun just as a zombie broke from the wall of bullets and tried to bite him. He responded by grabbing the zombie by the throat, taking a grenade from his belt, taking the pin out, and stuffing it in the zombie's mouth. Alpha pushed the zombie away, and he stumbled back into the centre of the ring of zombies which surrounded Unit 13.
There was an explosion as the grenade detonated. The air was full of the dying screams of zombies, and smoke from the grenade explosion. It had left a hole in the floor, which a few zombies fell through, but the others pressed onwards.
Alpha couldn't see the rest of his team among the continous stream of zombies, but could hear their guns thudding around him.
Blood splattered the front of his silver armour and he fired more bullets at the zombies. Their numbers were dwindling now, only around thirty of them were left. He could see Beta, Gamma and Epsilon now. Alpha pushed the air and sent the zombies around him flying against the wall. He then drained the moisture from the air and threw it in a ball of water. It hit the zombies and he immediately changed the temperature in the air and froze the undead humans where they stood.
He walked up to them, clearing a space with his knife, and kicked the frozen zombies. They shattered on contact with his foot, and he smiled to himself inside his helmet.
Gamma despatched the last zombie with a pistol bullet to the head, and they closed in on the man who had built the magical-nuclear bomb.
"You thought that a few hundred zombies could defeat us?" Alpha snarled, "Now, turn off the bomb."
The man shook his head, "Nope."
Alpha sighed, aimed his rifle, and shot the man three times between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the floor.
The count down was clicking down now, only forty minutes left to save the world. Gamma stepped forward and started tapping away at the keyboard. After a few seconds, a single box came up on screen, "Access Denied".
"He's got it encrypted!" Gamma shouted, "Damn idiot."
"Move back." Beta sighed, drawing a rocket launcher from his back. Gamma walked behind Alpha, not wanting to be blown to pieces. Beta shouldered the rocket launcher and fired a missile at the computer at the opposite side of the room.
The missile exploded on impact, and the computer blew up, along with a huge chunk off the wall.
The bomb had been switched off by Beta's "shoot first and ask questions later" attitude.
Unit 13 aimed their wrists at the roof and fired grappling hooks at the ceiling. They pulled themselves through the hole they had entered through, just as Zeta let down a ladder from the helicopter. They climbed up.
Another mission completed.

Lauren Darkness (A.K.A. The Dark Princess)

Again, a thought from Aquila that if Lara lives in my blog, she's around with loads of boys all the time, so therefore I'm making someone to keep her company.


Name: Lauren Darkness (A.K.A. The Dark Princess).

Age: 120 (looks eighteen).

Appearance: Long, black, straight hair and brown eyes. She is generally pretty, but at night, her eyes sparkle. She normally wears a black t-shirt and black jeans, but when she has a "mission" she wears a black mask which covers the front of her head, to keep her identity a secret, and some black body armour.

Personality: In the day, a nice, kind, and friendly person who dislikes violence. On a night, she becomes an assassin, but a good assassin, who kills everyone who plans to destroy the world. She is well known, and very feared.

Powers: Necromancy, she has got lots of things she has inhabited with her power. Such as: Twin katanas she has strapped to her back during the night time; twin pistols she carries strapped to her thighs; her body armour itself, and her mask. She has the most weapons used by any Necromancer, but isn't necessarily the most powerful, but uses her abilities wisely and is very effective at killing people, even those who are stronger than her.

Occupation: Secret assassin.

Weapons: As said under "Powers:", she has a pair of twin katanas and twin pistols. However, she also carries 2 large throwing star-shaped objects which can be used to either throw or slice. These aren't inhabited by Necromancy.

Vehicle: None.

History: At the age of 21, she was one of the most powerful Necromancers alive, she had been thought of as the Death Bringer, until she learned what the Passage entailed and then quit. The Necromancers hunted after her, but she managed to evade them and now works for the Sanctuary for black ops, but only rarely, and in the most extreme of circumstances.
At the age of a hundred, however, she went up against the Jitter Girls during the daytime. They ambushed her and she didn't stand a chance. Just as they were about to kill her, The Dark Princess awoke and managed to subdue them with ease. This was the first time it happened, and from then she became a different person at night, every night. Nothing can stop her changing, but in life threatening circumstances, The Dark Princess will save her life, but unfortunately doesn't have a sense of friendship, she only wants to kill the bad guys.

Likes: Lamps, soft toys and books.

Dislikes: Her alternative identity.

Friends: Few and far between, people tend not to trust her because of her alternative identity. Her friends are mainly: Kallista Pendragon, Aquila Felis, Dragona Pine, Grindor Blackout, Lara Exquatic and Cabader.



Fighting Style:

Lauren Darkness sprinted down the alleyway, her trainers slapping on the wet ground. It was 8:57, only three minutes before she changed.
Her chasers, black-clad armed men, followed her. She could hear their footsteps as they ran after her.
A bullet whined close to her head and she ducked instinctively.
8:58.
She veered left down an ajoining alley, and sprinted the length of it.
8:59.
Suddenly, she felt something collide with her from behind. She was sent sprawling along the floor as one of the black-clad figures closed in on her.
"You should have stayed at home, girl." one of the figures said, reaching inside his jacket and taking out a gun. He pointed it at her.
9:00.
Lauren Darkness went away, and for a few seconds, her body was cold.
The Dark Princess snapped her head up, slamming her black mask into the muzzle of the pistol the man was carrying. The pistol snapped into three pieces, and the man looked down at his gun in shock.
"You haven't caught me at a good time." The Dark Princess snarled, as black body armour formed around her.
The men took a cautious step backwards.
"Scared now, aren't you?" she growled, "And rightfully so."
The shadows swirled around her and twin swords materialised on her back. She drew them, the blades black and shadows writhed around them.
She flung her swords, and thousands of sharp shadows impaled the figure who once had the gun in his hand. A mist of blood sprayed though the air and The Dark Princess laughed, whilst using the shadows to keep the figure stood up.
She moved, so their faces were inches apart, "That is for chasing me." she snarled, then waved her hand and the shadows pulled themselves out.
One of the other figures took out a pistol and fired a bullet at her. Without even blinking, the shadows moved and intercepted the bullet, and then spat it back out. It hit the wall centimetres away from the figure's head, covering him with bits of rubble.
The figure pushed the air, just as several other figures came from an ajoining alleyway and made a circle around her, many with flames in their hands.
She snarled, and held her swords in the air using strands of shadows. With her free hands, she took two large circular objects from her belt, and moved them quickly. Ten blades came from each one, and she threw them at each side of her. The men had no time to dodge them. Four were decapitated instantly, and the circular blades spun into the darkness, then a second later returned to The Dark Princess' hands, killing two more people in the process. The ground beneath her feet was slippery with blood, but she grew shadows from her armour to keep her from falling.
She had a wall of shadows around her as the four remaining men fired bullets and threw fireballs at her.
As they paused to reload their weapons, she striked.
She made the shadows throw both her swords at two of the men, they were impaled, and slumped whilst the shadows kept them standing.
She spun, and launched the sharp, circular objects again. They decapitated the impaled men and she made the metal blades return to her hands. The swords were still kept up by the shadows which formed a bubble around the back of her.
One of the two remaining men pushed the air, but she jumped over it, spun, dropped to her knees and made the shadows thrust the blades outwards, straight through the chests of the two men. They dropped, and she smiled.
The shadows curled around her, and she vanished.

Emit Sargo

I had an idea... ^^


Name: Emit Sargo.

Gender: Male.

Age: 41, looks 23.

Appearance: Tall, skinny and has short black hair.

Clothes: Jeans, T-shirt, jacket and trainers.

Personality: Friendly, Emit gets all the best lines during fights and has a good sense of humour.

Nationality: German. His "mother tongue" is English but he does know quite a lot of German. He only has the slightest hint of a German accent.

Magical Ability: A type of teleporter but far more advanced. He can change position, but it can be anywhere, not just places he's been. Not only can he change position, but he can also move back and forwards in time. Hence his name "Emit" which is "Time" backwards.

Weapons: An EMP blaster rifle from the year 2075. It fires a EMP pulse which can disrupt most electrical objects as well as delivering the force of a rocket launcher to its desired target. The gun itself is based on the Heckler & Koch XM8 Prototype. It has a pistol built in to the gun itself, as shown on the picture. The pistol is also an EMP gun.

Vehicle: An Audi R8 SuperJet 10-21 from the year 2123. The car itself looks no different to any other, but it's very special.
For starters, it has an AI in it, known as Bob. Bob learns as he gets older and can drive the car by himself. The Audi generates an invisible force field around it which can take immense damage without faltering. Inside the car, it has a prototype weapons system. The lights change into multi-barrelled machine guns, the roof changes into a plasma cannon and a rocket launcher appears from the bonnet.
The car used technology from 2123 to become able to fly. Although the interior doesn't change, the wheels fold up and a blue light is emitted from underneath when it flies. It becomes a "hover car".

Likes: His car, his friends, his gun and travelling back in time.

Dislikes: Zombies, Remnants and people who don't appriciate him.

History: He was born in 2114 and got into some trouble with the law. He has been hunted down by them ever since, and they occupy a time machine. He can never be safe from them, and went back to 2011 to go into hiding. There he met friends, and has chosen to say there, using his knowledge of the future to help and assist his friends. He hasn't got many friends as people choose not to trust him.

Friends: Kallista Pendragon, Aquila Felis, Isabella Midnight, Grindor Blackout and Skulduggery Pleasant.

Cabader

This is another one of my OCs, he's going to be used in my Dragona Pine Starting Point fanfic.

Name: Cabader. He has no last name.

Age: 90, looks nothing.

Gender: Male.

Personality: Cabader hardly speaks, he only says something when spoken to or he has an idea. If he's set on a mission, he will complete it under any circumstances and protect his friends whilst doing so. He can kill people with no regret, but will protect the innocent and people who he cares about. In battle he is ruthless and deadly.

Clothes:

Sorry about the mix up with pictures there, I tried to get them right but it didn't work. So, to sum up: Black Motorcycle helmet, a black jacket which he has zipped up all the time, black outdoor/motorcycle trousers, black outdoor gloves and black outdoor boots. He never takes them off, and never changes.

Nationality: English.

Accent: Synthesised and robotic, but more human than the traditional robot voice. Speaks without using apostrophes, like instead of "I'm", "I am."

History: He was a soldier in WWII, fighting on the border between Germany and France. After a successful take-over of an enemy trench, he was shot five times by a German machine gun. He died from his injuries, but his spirit didn't move on.

A few hours after he was killed, his spirit was found by a dark mage called Travisan. Travisan made a body for Cabader out of pieces of a broken soul catcher, Cabader's old uniform and parts of the machine gun that had killed him. His head was the barrel of the machine gun, and his body was infused with magic so that it could operate, and he could fire bullets from his head. His arms could form blades and other assorted weapons. He used his machine gun head to kill the six German soldiers who had killed him.

After getting his revenge, he realised he couldn't remember anything from his previous life except for his death, and became more aware of the world.

He realised that Travisan was about to destroy the world by summoning Faceless Ones to Earth, and set about stopping him.

The fight lasted three hours, and in which time, Cabader suffered twenty two blows to the head, from bolts of magic which Travisan fired at him. He should have died again from his injuries, but he suffered no physical wounds.

To test his newly found immortality, he set himself against another German machine gun. He was hit forty times in the chest and head, but the bullets bounced back at the machine gun and made it explode, killing the soldiers.

He remained in the war until it ended, and then was lonely until the year 1998, where he found a friend.

Cabader met Thor in a bar, when he was 4, and with his mum, despite the fact it is impossible for Cabader to eat or drink. A few years later, when Thor was 9, he found a way to change what Cabader's body looked like, after an accident, and found suitable clothing for him. The clothing Thor gave him is his permenant outfit, but with a few modifications.

The arms are made of metal, and he can sprout blades from his wrists, knuckles, elbows and shoulders. In his forearm, he can slide out the machine gun that killed him and fire bullets from it.

He was an elemental before he died, and traces of his powers remain.

He is only called in by the Sanctuary under extreme circumstances, such as Faceless Ones and possible global destruction.

Powers: Cabader is indestructable to any form of violence that hits him. As he is a spirit wearing clothes, he cannot get hurt. The materials that contain him are indestructable also, so his clothes cannot wear, or get ripped by anything. Blades bend, or bounce off him, bullets are sent back to the person who fired them and bones will break on any violent contact with him. As he was an elemental before he died, he can control fire. It's the only trace of his once great power that remains, but he is a master at it. Oddly, his visor for his helmet glows orange when he controls flames.

Due to the parts of the soul catcher in his clothing, and it contains a good spirit, it glows white instead of throbbing black like ordinary soul catchers. On a night, cracks of white light can be seen through the gaps of his clothing and the last person to call him "The Human Nightlight" was unfortunately killed by a hail of machine gun bullets that hit him in the head at point blank range.

Weapons: As said in the history, Cabader can sprout weapons from his arms due to robotic implants made by Thor, using parts of weapons that Travisan made for him. He is a master at using his machine gun, killing people with blades that he can make shorter or longer to his will, but he can also fire shrukiens at enemies.

Friends: Thor, Kallista Pendragon, Israel Elysium, Grindor Blackout and Aquila Felis. The only people who know of his existence and past who are not part of the sanctuary.

Phrase To Sum Him Up: "He's not a bad guy, he's just a very twisted good guy."