Post by Grant on Oct 18, 2012 22:25:56 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=valign, top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, border: 10px solid #f1e3b4; width: 450px; background-color: #f6f7f1;][STYLE=font-family: times new roman; font-size: 36px; color: #191919; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px;]PERSONAL FILE[/style][STYLE=font-family: arial; font-size: 8px; color: #FF0000; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 2px;]HIGHLY CLASSIFIED AND CONFIDENTIAL[/style][STYLE=float: right; margin: 10px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; border: 10px solid #FFFFEE;][/style][STYLE= color: #000000; background: #BBDD22; font-family: courier new; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; width: 296px; margin-left: 05px; font-weight: bold; padding: 02px;]GENERAL INFORMATION[/style][STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]NAME:Grant Wilson ALIAS:Ravager, Legacy, The blue eyed devil, Grant GENDER:Male AGE:29 OCCUPATION:Mercenary, assassin ALIGNMENT:Neutral AFFILIATION(S):Hive [/style] [STYLE= color: #000000; background: #BBDD22; font-family: courier new; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; width: 296px; margin-left: 05px; font-weight: bold; padding: 02px;]PHYSICAL PROFILE[/style][STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]HEIGHT:6�0 WEIGHT:200 EYES:Cobalt Blue HAIR:Blonde CLASSFICATION:Enhanced human UNUSUAL FEATURES:Notable scarring across his torso and back due to time as a POW and extensive torture at the hands of Midnighter that lead to his eventual �Death� BEHAVIOR PROFILE[/style][STYLE= margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px; border: 2px solid #191919; padding: 2px; font-family: verdana; height: 125px; overflow: auto; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify; background-color: #ffffff; opacity: 0.8] Born the son of the prestigious professional assassin and soldier Slade Wilson from a young age Grant was ingrained with the belief in the Wilson legacy be carried on by him as the elde son. Unlike his brother who would be a gentle and kind soul comparatively Grant is seen as his father�s son, both his coeval in skill and attitude at his father�s age he is cocksure, sarcastic and snarky, incredibly confident- some might say overconfident- in his skill and ability. His lackadaisical attitude and somewhat playful chiding demeanor left a sour taste in the mouth of a dour, serious father. Grant is something of a quintessential soldier, unlike his siblings he never saw a life for himself outside of service and signed on soon after he was old enough to enlist. This is a direct counterpoint to the Grant Wilson that seems to be the black sheep of the Wilson clan. While he never really entertained quitting the dreams his father had for him and carrying on the Wilson name and legacy as a dedicated warrior and soldier, but he never seemed to achieve the level of perfection his father wished him to attain. As a result, though his efforts were easily within a super soldier�s ability and performance level comparatively to Slade�s standards he was �mediocre� (despite shattering many of Slade�s long held records) and his attempts seemed half hearted and were met with contempt and open derision by the elder Wilson. Because of this the otherwise congenial younger Wilson was left with an intrinsic need for his father�s approval that eventually lead to a deep rift between the two. Which in turn, caused Grant to attempt a bout of patricide most recently, seemingly at the brink of being able to exact revenge and �prove� himself the better, he instead walked away from his father, perhaps cleared of the ghost of Slade Wilson and his fleeting approval. [/style][STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]DOCUMENTED HISTORY[/style][STYLE= margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px; border: 2px solid #191919; padding: 2px; font-family: verdana; height: 125px; overflow: auto; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify; background-color: #ffffff; opacity: 0.8] Grant's parents met while in service to the United States Army, where Adeline Kane had been Slade Wilson's instructor in guerilla warfare. Slade continued on active duty, and volunteered for a medical experiment in resisting truth serums. The experiment had an unforeseen side effect: it gave Slade enhanced strength and heightened reflexes. Shortly after this, Adeline gave birth to Grant Wilson and eventually Joseph Wilson. As the elder and most physically able of the two children Grant was pushed to follow in his father�s footsteps as a consummate soldier and was taught from an exceedingly early age the arts and practices of combat and war by his father. Slade soon was discharged from the army. He took up hunting for awhile, but it failed to quench his thirst for the life he once led. Unknown to his wife and family, Slade secretly became a mercenary known as Deathstroke, the Terminator. Although Slade was gone for weeks a time, he was a good father. He was closest to Grant, who idolized him. But Slade also loved Joseph, who preferred music over fighting and painting over guns. Adeline and Deathstroke together confronted the Jackal in an alleyway in Tangiers. Slade refused to give the Jackal the information he requested, because it would violate his professional code of ethics. Slade gambled he could react fast enough to save his son; He saved Joseph's life, but not before one of Jackal's men had begun to slit his throat. Joseph was now mute. Slade always needed to be the best. But now, his own son suffered for his monumental ego. Adeline - furious at Slade's betrayal and the risking of her son's life - confronted Slade at gunpoint. Only Slade's quick reflexes saved his life, but he lost his right eye due to the gunshot inflicted by his wife. Adeline then divorced Slade and raised her two sons by herself. Grant followed in his father's footsteps and attended military school and eventually enlisted. Following his enlistment Deathstroke attempted to have his son apply to the the covert �Ravager� program, enabling the most exceptional soldiers to receive additional training and a specialized array of weaponry (most notably the Nnth metal mask and the Ravager armor) presumably as a government sponsored counterpoint to the metahuman threat. Although he was able to pass all tests with flying colors and was recognized as a more than able successor to Deathstroke- having shattered all his father�s records- he was given only casual compliments by his father. His assignments during this time are top secret requiring the highest clearance, but it is known he was eventually captured and tortured and declared KIA by one of Deathstroke�s enemies in this time. Years later Slade would receive his mask with fresh DNA of his son on it clandestinely. Grant was hired to kill his father by the wealthy parents of a girl who was a part of the mercenary group Slade worked with, and later killed, because he didn't like competition. Through flashbacks to his home life and training you see Grant's struggle for approval from his father, but also his incredible ability. Grant goes on to confront his father in a hybrid of Legacy armor and his own. After subduing a wounded and tired Deathstroke, Grant is suddenly electrocuted; but not by Deathstroke. The parents of the girl who Slade killed are revealed to have put Grant down for lying about his connection to Deathstroke. The girl's parents give Deathstroke the option of killing Grant instead of being a target for their assassins, however Deathstroke tells them 'he has no son', and that he doesn't 'negotiate'. Slade then stabs the father in the stomach, leaving him to bleed out; the mother pulls a gun and shoots Slade a few times, but to no effect, as Slade grins and stabs her through the face. Slade falls to the ground from loss of blood; Grant picks up his sword and contemplates killing his father, but in the end, he leaves him to live. (Credit to Comicvine/dcwiki piece meal for this history/powers I was too lazy to type in it�s entirety) [/style] [STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]POWERS AND ABILITIES[/style][STYLE= margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px; border: 2px solid #191919; padding: 2px; font-family: verdana; height: 125px; overflow: auto; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify; background-color: #ffffff; opacity: 0.8] KNOWN POWERS: Grant Wilson was enhanced by H.I.V.E. scientists, via the same procedure his father went through making him almost superhuman.
KNOWN ABILITIES:
STRENGTH LEVEL:Can lift about a ton under optimal conditions. WEAKNESSES:
[/style] [STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]PARAPHERNALIA[/style][STYLE= margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px; border: 2px solid #191919; padding: 2px; font-family: verdana; height: 125px; overflow: auto; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify; background-color: #ffffff; opacity: 0.8] EQUIPMENT:
TRANSPORTATION:Varying. Grant is a skilled mechanic and pilot. He seems to favor ubiquitous trucks, vans, and cargo vehicles rather than more flashy transportation given his occupation. WEAPONS:
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[STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 10px; margin-top: 10px; margin-left: 10px;]EXAMINATION RECORD[/style][STYLE= margin: 0px 10px 0px 10px; border: 2px solid #191919; padding: 2px; font-family: verdana; height: 125px; overflow: auto; font-size: 11px; color: #000000; text-align: justify; background-color: #ffffff; opacity: 0.8] The groans and grumbles, guttural grunts and shouts, caterwailing and shouts of pain, grunts, again, again, again. There was blood everywhere, caking his form he could feel it between his fingers even with the suit of armor he wore from head to toe leaving so little without some form of protection, obscuring his form like some kind of Grey Fox. He thought of how this had gone down and he�d felt alive for the first time in a long time, his helmet in his hand had the metallic grey turned red from the blood spatter as he�d brought down on his now twitching, quivering mass of red paint and languishing muscle and broken bone.
�DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!� he shouted after each and every blow, raining them down with more ferocity and anger than he could hope to muster until his chest heaved, no longer constricted by the bandoleer and the clasp of all kinds of tools, equipment and accruterment that would make a utility belt of batman seem like an empty cookie jar. All of that had been lost in this fight, cut from him in the battle, his broken and discarded swords to the wayside.
Empty shells, fired casings once smoking were now cold as the snow fell on them, this battle had gone on so long such a thing was hardly surprising. He�d damn near stuck his knives in the man�s internal organs in alphabetical order leaving him a porcupine, a hunk of red swiss cheese rather than a living breathing man, and yet, it came down to this. As the blood pooled and he looked to it, seeing his reflection and being taken aback, aghast by it; he glared, cobalt blue eyes couldn�t be more contrasting to the sanguine of blood that covered him like paint, as if he�d showered in it, bathed in it.
And when he did he thought of everything that lead him hear, he remembered the smell of polished leather on steel toed boot when he set himself at the starting line of the race the Ravager program had set up for himself and Peabody. He remembered moving through it like a wraith, a ghost who walks and moves as he might, he didn�t disturb the water as he jumped from shaking flume and launched a dagger at a target, piercing it perfectly in what would be it�s head had it been a living, breathing bag of flesh and sack of blood rather than a cardboard cut out of one.
He seemed to dance between bullets as he contorted his form in mid air and fired closing his dominant eye just for a bit of a challenge again hitting mark after mark as if it were nothing. He even had time to smirk lightly and let out a �That all you got old man, you�re boring me.� As Peabody nearly flopped into the water on the balancing shaking flume below.
The handspring he utilized as he turned and fired off a few more rounds showed just how able he was and he knew without even looking that he was well before the allotted time, if he took it quickly as possible as the crow flies he could finish this out, as it was he needed a decent exercise today anyway.
Grant brought his hands to the fountain nearby, the waters turning red with blood as he dipped them and the blood dripping from his face as he sluiced water over face and hair, the dark crimson of blood porous within his hair dripped from him showcasing his natural blonde as it washed out. And as he looked to the water and looked to a face with more war wounds than the young one he had all those days ago he remembered his performance review from the obstacle course, that day; the day he was the Ravager, the day that changed his life.
He�d showered although it was hardly the workout he�d wanted, and changed, his uniform consisting in those days only of a black shirt and fatigues, with a few accessories they were told to take and he wasn�t surprised to see the old man there, a grey, one eyed lion with a face hard as a tree stump and just as beat down and craggy.
The director was a wormy man, lithe and sinewy and pencil necked, a desk jockey if ever there was one, his suit didn�t fit him right, too thin for it but he was far too self conscious to allow someone to touch him and get a tailor made suit. Grants smirk was as sweet and puckish as it could be despite the fact he knew he�d be dressed down by the old man. The more things change.
After Peabody had done his thing, impressing them by hacking into the pentagon, Norad and nearly causing world war three with the directors crappy cell he approached. �I can't do a back flip off a moving truck but I can do this.�
�I can backflip off a moving truck..Sooo.�
�How do you think you did Grant?� Grant had to admit he hated the self-critique method, like a shop teacher asking what grade his bird house should be.
�Hit every target in record time..�
�Your performance was�Adequate.�
�Including someone else�s record. But I won't name any names.� Stll he couldn�t hope to scratch the man�s self worth or confidence. His return was a smirk, a sure shot counterpoint.
Looking back at the heap, the body that began to mutter and regain consciousness, the sanguine censure that was now the body of Deathstroke the terminator, Grant thought of how it was like erosion. He�d been so sure of himself for all that time, but like hole that was rained on for a few million years, his self confidence was as eroded out as the Grand Canyon. He let out a low �You suck, old man.� As he walked from the area in disgust. The trail of red following him like a shade, his shadow of red in the night, he wasn�t worth killing, or meditating on, his approval wasn�t worth a damn and Grant knew he�d lived in the shadow of a paper tiger all his life. He was a cat without claws, the man behind the curtain, not the all powerful Oz.
He�d have to find his own way in all this. [/style][STYLE=color: #191919; font-size: 12px; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center; font-family: courier new]subject examined by Doctor Cyber[/style][/td][td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 40px;][STYLE=background-color: #f1e3b4; font-family: times new roman; font-size:30px; color: #404040; min-height: 150px; padding: 5px; text-align: center; moz-border-radius: 0px 10px 10px 0px; -o-border-radius: 0px 10px 10px 0px; border-radius: 0px 10px 10px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 10px 10px 0px;]G R A N T W I L S O N[/style][/td][/tr][/table]
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