J. Morrigan
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
| [[Image:|300px|]] | |
| So, this hero thing. It's easy, right? | |
| Joseph Morrigan | |
| Player: | |
| Origin: | Mutation |
|---|---|
| Archetype: | Blaster |
| Security Level: | 6 |
| Personal Data | |
| Real Name: | Joseph Morrigan |
| Known Aliases: | Joe |
| Species: | Human |
| Age: | 18 |
| Height: | 5"8' |
| Weight: | Wiry |
| Eye Color: | White |
| Hair Color: | White (died black) |
| Biographical Data | |
| Nationality: | American |
| Occupation: | Hero |
| Place of Birth: | Paragon City |
| Base of Operations: | Paragon City |
| Marital Status: | Single |
| Known Relatives: | Father, Mother, Sister, Uncle, etcetera |
| Known Powers | |
| Pyrokinesis, heightened reflexes. | |
| Known Abilities | |
| See above. | |
| Equipment | |
| Mask, bodysuit, various clothes. | |
| ' | |
A QUICK HISTORY:
Average is the only word to describe Joe's life before the accident. He had a girlfriend, he lived with his parents. He went to highschool. Nothing special, really. Every now and then he would catch a glance from a passing hero, and he would smile and wave and think how awesome it was to live in Paragon. He would pour over comic books by the dozen, and spent not only his allowance but his paycheck at the butcher's on page after page of printed gold. There was a world going on just below the surface, a world he would only see when alien ships drifted overhead, or ghosts rose from their graves. Granted, this happened occasionally, but not nearly often enough for his tastes. It was two years ago next Tuesday that the accident ocurred. That's what his parents called it, but it was more than that. Some twisting coil of his DNA sprung loose, and caused a sudden and violent allergic reaction. Not to a food, like peanuts or olive oil. But to something much more prevalent and volatile. Nitrogen. Most people would flare up, a rash would spread. But not Joe. His entire body came aflame, burning every single inch of him. His parents would state to the police that it must have been a gas leak. That he must have been smoking in his bedroom at the time. It was the only way they could explain it away. He was in a coma for nearly three months, bedridden for another six. It wasn't until last year that he was able to walk on his own. Bubble boy. That's the name that was burned into his head, quite literally. He couldn't exist in an environment that contained even finite levels of nitrogen.
Thankfully, there are people in this world who pride themselves on fixing situations like this. A scientist without any warning dropped by. He looked very official, carried a clipboard and claimed to be researching the metahuman population. His parents denied any involvement, saying that it was an accident. But one look at Joe was all it took. He was taken from his home, and quickly garbed in a suit of artificial skin that would filter the nitrogen from the environs about him. He could never remove it, but he could walk around with some semblance of normalcy.
It was about three weeks ago when the secondary mutation started rearing its head. The scientists studying Joe weren't even sure that it could be called that. The sudden and violent trauma associated with fire woke a part of his brain that had until this point remained dormant. The official statement was that he constantly projected a low level psychic field. Nothing strong enough to move objects-- but flame. That was a different matter. He could excite atoms, slow them down. Heat, ice. He could control them at a whim. Although it was easier for him to make molecules twitch rather than rest.
His dream, that little nagging at the back of his mind. That whole other world that existed just beyond the horizon-- it was his to grasp with a gloved hand. He was finally a superhero.
