Demetrio D. Loredan

[Demetrio]

Demetrio Dionysus Loredan

Mutant Name: Quell

Age: 32

Height: 5' 10''

Eye Color: Brown

Physical Appearance: Demetrio has a simple sense of style, usually being decked out in a pair of jeans and a comfortable t-shirt, with 2-day stubble on his chin. His dark brown hair is made to conform to any style that fits his whim for the day; rarely does he have the same hairstyle for more than a few weeks at a time. Even though he doesn’t have the body of some ancient Greek statue, he is still rather proud of his lean, muscular frame. He is not usually one to go for the weights in a gym, but straight for the running track. This is how he likes to keep his slim figure, with running being his favorite pastime.

Celebrity Face Claim: John Abraham

Strengths:

• Quick runner
  
• Fast reflexes, agile
  
• Self-control
  
• Cautious
  
• Good at blending in with a crowd
  
• Charming, when he wants to be
  

Weaknesses:

• Introverted
  
• Anti-social
  
• Any of the few close relationship with others
  
• Any mention of his paternal grandfather
  
• Paranoia
  
• Prefers not to fight
  
• An excellent meal
  

Random Abilities:

• High alcohol tolerance
  
• Speed reader
  
• Strong interest in anthropology
  
• Gets along easily with most animals
  
• Knowledge of Ancient Greece and Rome
  
• Master of Capoeira
  
• Can read several languages but can't communicate too well in them
  
• Likes mathematics
  

History: Born on March 16, 1977 to a father with a strong Italian heritage and a mother with a primarily Native American background, Demetrio was doomed from the start to be in his own unique category. He was literally walking the line between both cultures for much of his childhood until his mother died in a car accident when he was 12 years old. After his mother’s death, he moved with his father to another state where his father had family members to stay with. Unfortunately, this also happened to be an area where none of his late mother’s family lived, and this effectively cut off Demetrio’s ties to that side of his heritage. The two moved in with his father’s father, a former vintner from Italy. It was during his stay with his grandfather that Demetrio came to form a deep bond with the man. This bond only deepened when Demetrio’s father died of pancreatic cancer two years after losing his wife.

From the age of 14 Demetrio was raised by his grandfather. He learned of his grandfather’s childhood in Italy, where the family vineyard provided wine for the family’s personal use and some surplus that was sold at the village market. He also heard of what it was like to come to America during the 1920s. Demetrio valued the information he learned from his grandfather more than that which he studied in school, especially the stories about the old gods and goddesses. It was because of his grandfather’s interest and knowledge about the subject, that Dem’s father was convinced to name his son after two of those deities. Demeter and Dionysus were both important to the old man, who helped care for the vineyard, because both were connected with fertility and growth.

Demetrio lived the life of a typical teenager while with his grandfather. He was allowed to take Capoeira lessons when he turned 16. By the time he was 22 he had graduated college with a degree in Classical Mythology. All through college he began to hear consistently of problems with mutants. People were injured, several hospitalized. For some reason he was drawn to the news reports about those people; he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because they, like him, were on the outside of society, looking in. He just dismissed the feeling, until…

Demetrio was on his way home from work – a waiter at a local Italian restaurant – one night, when he heard the sounds of a struggle in an alley. Such things were not uncommon in big cities, and it was often best not to get mixed up in them. He was about to continue on his way when he accidentally ran into a tall man wearing a leather jacket, camouflage pants and spiked blue hair, coming out of the same alleyway where he’d heard the sounds. That was all he could see of the guy, anyway. The man grunted at Demetrio and ran off. The sound of running footsteps came from the alley. Demetrio dropped to the ground as a ball of fire sailed through the air in the direction Spiky Blue had headed. Spiky could be seen in the distance as the fireball flew past him and missed. A figure came out of the darkness of the alley, another fireball preceding it in Spiky’s direction. The stranger’s aim this time was true and a yelp of pain could be heard as Spiky stumbled to the ground, landing in a heap before making a struggled attempt to stand again.

“Time for this to end,” mumbled the stranger.

The fire-thrower had come to a stop about ten feet away from where Demetrio clung to the ground. A mutant? he thought to himself. Even with his fighting skills, he didn’t want to try to compare strengths with a big burning ball of flame. There were such things in the world as bravery and courage, but going against something that could toast you alive was just plain stupidity…especially if you weren’t sure how to fight it. The man drew his arm back in preparation for a throw, smoke rising from his right hand. His target was obviously Spiky Blue, once more, who lay crumpled in the middle of the road, still trying to move. The stranger threw his hand forward for what Demetrio assumed was going to be the finishing blow for Spiky. But, all that was released from the other man’s fingers was a small burst of flame like one would expect from a sparkler on the fourth of July.

“What?!”

The man was looking at the palm of his hand with a puzzled expression while Demetrio tried to blend in with the sidewalk. He must have moved or something because the next thing he knew, the man was staring straight at him. What Demetrio could only call comprehension dawned on the stranger’s face as Demetrio was still trying to ascertain what the heck was going on. Why had the man’s power fizzled? The only people in sight were himself, Spiky, and the man. Spiky had gotten back to his feet and was limping away for all he was worth while his pursuer was distracted.

“You…”

A heavy clink came from behind the man that recaptured his attention. Spiky Blue had walked over a loose grate in the road. He seemed to know his attacker was watching him again because he doubled his efforts to get away. Demetrio took the opportunity to rise to his feet for the first time in several minutes. His body was somewhat stiff from being tensed the entire time, but he ignored the discomfort as he readied himself to flee at the first opportunity. He greatly preferred to not fight this man. His body stilled as the stranger turned back to him.

“You’ll be dealt with later,” the man snarled, turned and dashed after Spiky.

Demetrio stood there for several long minutes before darting toward home.


Mutation: Negation: Ability to cancel the powers of others. Demetrio has the ability to both completely nullify another mutant's power or to only dull the abilities of other mutants. He has enough control over his power that he can either use it as an area-wide effect or on a specific target. When focusing on a specific target, he tires quickly, with a 30 minute maximum holding time. That time is cut to 15 minutes or less, if the target is constantly moving and how fast. It is when focusing on one target that another mutant's powers are completely negated. To his own dismay, he can't turn the area effect off; it is always in action. Also, this effect only greatly dulls other mutant powers; it does not fully prevent a mutant from using their power. The area effect has a maximum range of 20 feet.

A side effect of Demetrio's own power on himself is that he can manifest a weakened version of a mutant power his power is directed toward. As an example, if a pyrokinetic were under the influence of his power, Demetrio would have a chance of being able to mimic that mutant's power, to a degree. This is possible both when targeting a specific target and using his area effect. However, the mimicked power is weaker when duplicated with the area effect and is slightly stronger when used if targeting one mutant. The more familiar he is with a mutant's particular power, the longer a mutant is under the influence of his power, the easier it is for him to learn and figure out how to copy and use that mutant's power.



Mutation Key: --admin edit--

Report of Mutant Capture: There really were days he wished there was something else he could do besides run and hide.

Ever since that day he’d witnessed a mutant attempt to murder a gangster with a fireball, his life had been different. The morning after the incident his grandfather’s house was almost burned to the ground by a flaming rock that came through a second-floor window in the early hours of the day. A message was burned into the front lawn when the two men went to check the land after putting out the fire – there had been some damage, but the house was saved. The message on the lawn was unmistakably clear to Demetrio:

YOU COST ME A RAT.
NOW YOU WILL TAKE HIS PLACE.

Obviously someone held a grudge. That mutant must have found out where he lived somehow. It didn’t matter how he’d done it, only that the stranger had. As he and Grandfather turned to go inside, Demetrio had already determined the action he must take. He knew Grandfather would be in danger if he stayed here. The old man wouldn’t be supportive of the decision, but he’d carry out his chosen path without hesitation. He’d already lost both of his parents; he didn’t want to lose his only remaining close family member. It didn’t help that he had no idea of where he could go. He was reluctant to go to friend or family; he didn’t want to get them involved.

Demetrio had told Grandfather about the incident when he’d gotten home the night before. The old man had been worried, as was expected, but hadn’t said anything of it since the two had woken from the sound of the breaking window earlier. Without a word to his grandfather, Demetrio went to his room and began throwing necessary things into a duffel bag. He needed to pack light; a few changes of clothing, cash, food that wouldn’t spoil. He was just about finished when a noise came from the doorway to his room.

“It runs in the family, you know,” Grandfather stated, his voice tinged with the accent of his motherland. “On your mother’s side, too.” He continued after Demetrio gave him an odd look. “The mutant gene, boy. Your talent finally made itself known last night. From what detail you gave, I’d say you can negate other mutants’ powers. Handy, that.” Grandfather gave a snap with his fingers.

Demetrio’s ears immediately began to ring loudly, like they had a tendency to do after listening to loud music for an extended period of time. He reached to cover both ears from the sound but found that impossible, as the ringing was coming from inside his own head. He didn’t notice when Grandfather snapped his fingers again and the ringing stopped.

“Interesting. You can really weaken the power of others, at any rate. If I’d been wrong, your eardrums would’ve been blown by the sound waves.” Grandfather gave Demetrio a grim expression. “If you’ve been found out, I will be too, sooner or later. We’ll both leave, but… We leave separately. I’m sorry, boy, but I won’t be able to tell you where to go. I’ll be heading to visit an old friend. Get out of here when you’re ready. We’ll see each other again. Hopefully, you’ll understand eventually.”

The old man left the room and vanished from Demetrio’s sight. The revelations of the past several hours were troublesome. He had witnessed a murder attempt, put out a fire, learned his family was mutants, and he was one, too. There had been no explanations, no excuses, just simple confession. As he left the house and his life behind, he wondered why he wasn’t surprised or angry about the whole situation.

--------------------------------------------------

Demetrio dodged behind a pile of tires as a fireball flew at his head from its pitcher near a mound of scrapped cars. The man had found him again. The amount of time he was able to stay in one place had been shortening drastically over the last year or so. In the beginning of his time on the run, Demetrio had been able to stay under the radar for up to three months at time, four if he was lucky. After the last time, he’d taken refuge in an old junk yard in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Oklahoma. His rest had only lasted a matter of days.

“Come out, come out, Loredan!”

Demetrio glanced over his pursuer and one-time captor through a gap between two tires. The stranger had certainly aged since the first they’d met. The man was taller than himself by a few inches, perhaps six-feet or six-foot-one. He’d lost hair over the decade or so they’d been playing cat and mouse, but still retained the physique of a healthy man 15 years his junior. Wrinkles etched on his face belied his age, however, and so did the bifocals resting on his nose. What hair was left on his head was severely tinged with gray, which left only a hint that it was once dull dishwater blonde. Personally, Demetrio believed the man’s looks had improved, but who was he to judge the man that had appointed himself his executioner? He wore simple brown slacks and a white button-down shirt, completed with an honest-to-God white lab coat.

“Loredan, show your face!”

The pile of tires provided a decent shelter from the other man’s attacks, but Demetrio was almost overcome by the smell of burning rubber. He hunkered down and waited until his pursuer was positioned in an opportunistic spot. It was a short wait, allowing him to unleash the energy he’d accumulated from the adrenaline of his fight-or-flight response. He let loose and aimed a kick at his target’s abdomen. His attempt hit home, causing his pursuer to stumble back a few steps and grasp for air. Demetrio distanced himself several feet from the man and readied himself. He didn’t like using his power against others, but this whole situation had to stop. He was tired of running for his life.

“The name’s Quell now, Aldman. You know that by now, right? You’ve been following me for years.”

Aldman glared as he regained his breath. Quell wasn’t affected in the slightest. This was part of their old game: they both took turns kicking each others’ butts. But Aldman didn’t see this as a game; he just saw it as a quest to regain what he’d lost long ago: a lab rat. In fact, he’d succeeded once. Two years after Demetrio had begun his nomadic journey, Aldman had trapped and captured him. Aldman turned out to be a scientist working at an institute that specialized in research for the isolation of the certain genes that gave power to mutants. The primary detail to know about Aldman was the fact that he despised who he was; he thought his own existence as a mutant was on par with the worst of mortal sins. Old Mr. Scientist, once he had determined Demetrio’s power and located the mutant gene, decided it would be splendid help in a research project to make his own abilities go dormant… If only he could find a harmless way of doing the gene therapy. Last Demetrio had heard, the process was still in its infancy and needed further study. It would explain why Aldman had come after him again once he’d escaped imprisonment. It’d lasted almost half a year. There were no intentions of letting such a thing happen again.

“And I shall continue to follow you until I have what I want,” Aldman snarled, his expression almost feral to Quell’s eyes. The man was getting desperate. Not a good thing.

“What you want is an impossibility, Carl. At least tell me you let the kid go; he disappeared before I escaped. Innocents shouldn’t be brought into such things.” There’d been a boy kept in a separate cell that Quell had taken a liking to back then. One morning after waking, the boy was gone. Aldman never said what happened to him.

“The boy was taken by some organization looking for a cure to the mutant menace. Somebody found out I had him, got him taken away. But they never found you…” Aldman’s lips pulled up into a twisted grin as he took a step forward. “I still have you…Loredan.”

Quell sighed. Obviously trying to talk Aldman into leaving wasn’t going to work. He was too obsessed with his dream of being a normal human to be reasonable about anything. Quell shook his head resignedly and focused all of his attention his foe. When possible, he avoided fighting and using this version of his power at all costs. It sometimes had adverse effects on either him or the mutant he used his power on.

“Sorry, Aldman, but this is for your own good and mine.”

Quell felt the essence of power that let Aldman use fire flow into himself. So, he’d be able to use that ability tonight. Good. Carl could get a taste of his own medicine. Quell guided that essence toward his right hand and willed it to form into a small, glowing ball of fire. It wasn’t near as powerful as Aldman himself could produce, but it would work nice enough for the time being. He tossed the fireball into the air and caught it. The action was repeated a few times more to draw Aldman’s full attention to it. That wasn’t a hard thing to do, as it was something that had happened many times over the years. Quell was quite familiar with his foe’s power by now.

Carl Aldman growled in frustration as he attempted to call fire to his hands. All that came for him were a few puffs of smoke that rose lazily into the air above the two men. Quell stood there watching his adversary with a calm gaze.

“Come on, Carl. You know your powers don’t work at all when my attention is focused on you. It works that way with any mutant. You’ll only get your flame back when my time limit expires, or if I’m content to just let my power do as it will and only dull your fire.” The fireball was tossed and caught again. “But, I think I’ll end this now.”

“You mean to kill me?” Aldman roared with laughter loud enough to rattle the scrapped cars behind him.

“Why not?” Quell answered and gestured toward one of the roasted tires that had protected him earlier. “The smell of burnt rubber is beginning to sting my nose worse than the odor of your breath when I was your favorite lab rat.” With that, he tossed the ball of fire at mad scientist.

“Why you--!!” Aldman swelled with anger but was silenced as he realized the bottom of his lab coat was on fire. He ripped the coat off and threw it to the ground, stomping on it to put out the flames. By the time he looked up again, wanting to shout obscenities at someone, Quell had gone.

----------------------------------------------------

The long drag he took from a cigarette gave his nicotine addiction its latest fix. After the ordeal in the junkyard, the sense of satiation felt like heaven. Demetrio left his spot under a balcony overhang that jutted over the street from an old, rundown apartment building. He flicked the finished cigarette to the ground, its embers flaring to life momentarily before it hit the ground. The apartment building he’d just left behind was the home of an old acquaintance. Emphasis on old. Ajuoga was an elderly African woman in her mid-80s; she was a mutant that worked hard to keep her identity under wraps. She was also someone that had a vast network of resources available to her, and asking her for a favor came at a high price. Demetrio had acquired her help at the expense of having his debt called in at any time Ajuoga deemed fit. He didn’t mind, as long as she could get him out of this area before morning.

He didn’t know any of the details, which disturbed him a little. Depending on others usually had unpleasant results for him. As he meandered through the deserted streets toward the determined meeting place, Demetrio began to get the feeling he was being followed. He scoured his surroundings for signs or sounds but whatever was there knew how to be quiet and unseen. He made a right onto a path that led into the nearby park, where he was to meet Ajuoga’s contact. Standing by a small copse of trees was a figure of medium height and build. If that hadn’t been exactly where he was supposed to be heading, Demetrio wouldn’t have paid the person any mind. The figure turned and a second glance was needed for him to determine this person was a woman. There was nothing astonishing about her appearance, nothing even remotely memorable. From the dull sheen to her dark hair to the opaque quality of her shoes, the woman’s features were just…plain.

Demetrio cocked his head slightly. No, there was something off about her. His eyes narrowed to the odd looking top she wore. A slight breeze beginning to blow and the fabric she wore wasn’t moving. Armor? He realized the trap seconds before nine men emerged from behind several trees. They all wore black armor and sported guns. Five of the nine had their guns pointed at him and didn’t seem to have any hesitation about using them if he tried to make trouble.

“Mutant Quell,” the woman addressed him. Lords above, even her voice was vapid. “You are hereby condemned to spend the rest of your life living in the new settlement of Freakopolis. Farewell.”

He blinked. Slowly. Who were these nut jobs? There was no such place called Freakopolis as far as he knew. Demetrio glanced around at the guards. They left no opening for him to attempt escape. However…

“Yes, farewell, I should think.” Demetrio launched himself at the woman, who had no gun and no visible means of defense. Startled, she moved to the side. He was almost clear of the group when a tenth man stepped into his line of vision and slammed the butt of the gun into his temple, and everything went black.

[Mara Ackart]