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Gabler, Alexandra; Callisto
Topic Started: Jul 30 2011, 03:54 AM (1,419 Views)
Callisto
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[align=center]PLAYER INFORMATION[/align]

NAME:Dean
CONTACT:PM Surge Account
HOW YOU FOUND US: Google Voodoo
OTHER CHARACTERS ON THE SITE Marrow/Surge/Spiral/Basswave/Mystique
Crystalia(minor)
RULES CODE: Xavier

CREDIT WHERE IT'S DUE:
Marvel Database for Power Information. The rest came from previous applicants and site canon and my brain.

[align=center]CHARACTER INFORMATION[/align]

[align=center]Posted Image
Noomi Rapace as Callisto [/align]

BASIC INFORMATION

CANON OR ORIGINAL:Canon
AFFILIATION:Morlocks

FULL NAME:Alexandra Gabler (presumed)
CODENAME:Callisto
NICKNAMES:Cal, Calli, Sewer Queen, Bosslady

CURRENT AGE: 36
DATE OF BIRTH: March 25th, 1975
MARITAL STATUS: Single
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight
BASE OF OPERATIONS: The Alley
TIME AT INSTITUTE: None
REGISTERED WITH SHIELD? Yes
HOMETOWN: Herculaneum, Missouri
KNOWN RELATIVES:
None on File;
Claims the mutants Artie Maddicks, Leech, and Marrow as her own children.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5’9’’
BUILD: 135 lbs, muscular and fit.
EYE: Blue
HAIR: Black
DISTINGUISHING MARKS:
Callisto’s face is a story all its own, her visage scarred heavily due to an event that left her with one eye and scars aplenty throughout her body, including several on her face.
CLOTHING STYLE: Not particularly one to go for impressing others with her wardrobe, Callisto goes, quite often, for whatever is on hand and suitable for the environment. Mostly second hand clothing, stolen items, and anything else she can make good with to either beat the heat or bundle from the cold.
UNIFORM:N/A


POWERS

GENERAL DESCRIPTION:
Callisto’s powers are fairly straightforward. Her body, mutated to a sort of peak physical perfection, is streamlined and optimized by evolution in such a way that she is more physically capable than any given human. To begin with, her senses of smell, touch, taste, and especially hearing and sight, are incredibly enhanced, to the point of rivaling those of some animals found in that natural world. She can track scents for miles, hear a pin drop from across a room, and in her one good eye she has active night vision, able to see clearly in pitch darkness for several hundred feet. This superhuman sensory perception gives her a tactical advantage, forewarning her to any threats in the area and making it incredibly difficult to get the drop on her.

Callisto’s physical form is also of a higher caliber than most, as well. Muscular structure and composition is streamlined and optimized to grant superhuman levels of strength, reflexes, and agility unrivaled by any common human being. She is able to lift almost 1500 lbs and can maintain sprinting speeds of nearly 50 miles an hour and she can maintain slower speeds for much longer than the average human.

These two mutations in tandem grant her with a prowess in close-quarters combat that is edging on uncanny, and those who have engaged her in combat can attest that she possesses a sort of sixth sense when her powers are working in conjunction. This translates to a sort of battlefield awareness that gives her a one-up on the competition in any sort of scenario where clever tactics are required.

Her body, being composed more optimally, heals at a more accelerated rate than most as well, though not it is not regenerative, as evidenced by her numerous scars. However, she does still heal at a miraculous rate, able to overcome gashes and other lacerations over a few days, as well as mending broken bones within a couple of a weeks if not sooner.

WEAKNESS:
Despite her impressive physical attributes, Callisto is susceptible to the same caveats as any other human. Bullets, blades, fire, energy blasts, the lightning shot out of someone’s right index finger, they all hurt and they all can be lethal. Telepathic attacks work well also, though some may find her will spirit hard to break.

Callisto is also short one eye, and though her hyper acute vision does account for this, she does need to maintain a certain level of focus or her depth perception runs the possibility of being way off. She has no straight laced defensive powers beyond her physical superiority, and so often relies on knifes and improvised weaponry when outmatched in a fight.


PERSONALITY
A leader by nature, Callisto has had her self-image torn down and rebuilt stronger and harder than ever before. She is a take-charge, do-it-now personality, and she doesn’t take well to those who don’t share a similar mindset when things need done. This stems perhaps from the need to hold some sort of control over her life due to events in her past that threatened to take away that very thing. She is a forward thinker, and often on to consider all the angles, and she lives by the creed “measure twice, cut once.”

Callisto displays a very no-nonsense attitude when things get tight, and comes across more often than not as a stern and hard-boiled character, though she is not without a sense of humor or irony and often times her rare heavy but hearty laugh brings a special sort of levity to any situation. Still, she does have a temper, and though it’s displays are short lived, they are vicious. She is very open at the sleeves with her opinions and she is brutally honest at that. This might cause distance between herself and some others because it may at first seem that she is abrasive or caustic, though once one is tuned in to her own acerbic wit it becomes obvious that it’s really her own brand of tough love.

Moreso than most Morlocks, she has forsaken the world above, at least in spirit. She doesn’t hate humanity so much as despise the ‘beautiful people’ who she feels in her heart have forsaken her. She has, over the years, come to love the tunnels and those she’s helped foster into them, though she has left them from time to time to take care of ‘unfinished business’, the specifics of she rarely ever reveals. Nonetheless, she retains pride in her status as a mutant, subtle though that mutation may be, and frequently pushes those who have been far more physically marred by evolution to take pride in a gift, not resent a curse.

Callisto is not above killing when it’s called for, and by that same token there are few extremes she will not go to in pursuit of defending her people and home. She is not to be trifled with, and she takes guff from nobody she doesn’t already respect, and that respect is difficult to come by.


HISTORY: PRE-APOCALYPSE
The road Alexandra Gabler took on her path to becoming the infamous Callisto is contested amongst her peers. She’s rumored to have been a failed foreign revolutionary, an international criminal, a decommed superspy, even a disgraced and long forgotten Celebrity. The truth is far more mundane. Born and raised through her youngest years in Herculaneum, Missouri, it was obvious from a very early age that the girl was in possession of her father’s keen mind and her mother’s good looks. Her parents were proud and doting, and, if the truth was to be told, almost overly zealous in their idolatry. The young child seemed to learn faster, walk sooner, and talk more than any child in their neighborhood, which, while far from posh, was no terrible place to raise a child.

As the child grew and moved through school, life in Herculaneum seemed more like life in Perfection Valley. The girl made friends, found hobbies and favorite subjects and quickly fell into that role of “That Chick Who’s Friends With Everyone.” Unbeknownst to the young girl however, her body was changing in ways other than the normal aches and growing pains of a child’s transition to adulthood, but things began becoming more and more obvious as time wore on, and then on one fateful night, her world turned on its ear, and Alexandra found that she was much more than she believed herself to be.

Riding home with her family from an away-game, she sat in the back of the car, with the evening she’d had, when a tired trucker coming off the interstate drifted into their lane. Her father overcorrected, losing control and spinning the car out. The trucker drove on, and as they were readying themselves to chalk it up to a frightening close-call, a pick-up T-boned the smaller car, sending it tumbling away. Alex woke a few seconds later from her blacked-out stupor, smell of gas and blood making her wretch, leg pinned beneath crushed metal, the smell of gas making it clear that they’d wound up in a dangerous situation. Struggling, she somehow found the strength to bend back the metal clamping her leg, and escaped the vehicle as a short up front ignited a gas fire beneath the crushed car. Pulling more strength from reserves she didn’t know she had, she yanked the door right from its hinges, casting it aside and pulling her mother to safety. But despite her own heroics, she was too late. Her father had been killed in the impact, and her mother died en route to the hospital.

Alex had pins in her leg and was in a wheelchair at the funeral, and it wasn’t long before she was sent off to her next of kin in Queens, New York, an aunt. The once happy girl was no more, and as she slowly tried to put herself back together, she became aware that in the slim two weeks since she’d been in the accident, her leg had gotten better. Whereas doctors had at first told her she’d never walk again, she was no worse for the wear, save scarring. It was at this point when the memories of that night had flooded back into her mind. The feats of strength, the healing, her steadily increasing senses of sight and smell and hearing; it’d all made sense in that instant. She was a mutant, something that, until then, had never been a part of her life, something spoken in shunning tones on the news and nowhere else.

By that point, she was fifteen. The strange enhancements to her physical prowess and acute senses kept coming, and she coped with her newfound sensory and perception by shutting herself out from the world in her dark, quiet room. The effects of this new self-imposed solitary lifestyle in combination with the havoc her parent’s deaths had truly carried out on her character only became more and more obvious. What had once been a sharp and promising young girl slowly spiraled into a rambunctious and angry teenager. She began picking fights in school, slacking on her work and treading into darker parts of her personality. The years ticked by, and by the time she was seventeen, Gabler had all but flunked out of High School. Her guardian confronted her, and an argument ensued that quickly came to blows, and Alexandra, not yet fully grasping the sort of strength she had, pummeled the woman senseless in a rage when her aunt had indicated just how let down her parents would be.

Destitute and homeless before the age of 20, Alex worked her way to Manhattan Island, and there she fell in league with several different members of “The Wrong Crowd.” She engaged for a while in petty crime, burglaries and drug-peddling, and, for a while, she made a life for herself from the dregs of it all, but by the time she was twenty five she was pulling strings she had no business pulling, and in a scuffle that broke out between friends, the rough and tumble Gabler killed a long time partner at a block party who had discovered the secret of her mutant nature, displaying a sort of speed and strength during the fight that was, for lack of a better term, inhuman. Sensing the source of this, one of those present flagged her as a mutant, and, despite her own physical prowess, the fact that she had been marked as one of these mutant freaks was enough to make old friends turn on her. As a result, she was overwhelmed, beaten down, and battered to within an inch of her life. Police arrived, responding to reports of the brawl, and she was taken to a nearby hospital to recover under the watch of law enforcement.

The attacks she suffered left her with damage that even her own enhanced ability to heal couldn’t full correct. The side of her head pummeled, the attack had cost her an eye, and left her face scarred and battered. She healed quickly enough, and was discharged into police custody. Convinced that everything she’d done was in self defense, and certain that any time spent in court would be useless on account of her now known mutant status, Gabler lashed out, breaking out of her handcuffs and taking the unsuspecting officers by surprise, making a getaway into the iron jungle of New York City.

Once more out on her ass, this time with a felony over her head, she wandered the streets, fearful to show her face in the daylight for fear of being arrested. She had little success in finding aid, unable to return to her own flat, unable to turn to soup kitchens or homeless shelter for fear of being discovered, she hid in dumpsters and backalleys, boxes and restroom stalls for weeks. Fishing food out of the garbage and worse, she found herself in a bind when winter came. One day, she’d had enough, and down into the subways she went. She moved past the platforms, down to the tracks, and she began walking. The darkness didn’t bug her, even with her one eye she could see. Her intent was to end it all, to walk until that train came down the line that would strike her dead and call her off the mortal coil.

That moment never came, and after finding herself chickening out time and again, Alex found herself deep in Manhattan’s subway network. It was cold, though it was better than the blustery winter going on outside, up above. As she proceeded, she came upon an old railway annex, and upon further inspection, an old access tunnel that lead even deeper into the city’s underground. It was here during this descent that Alexandra Gabler slowly withered away, something taking her place.

Five years later and things had proceeded incredibly. She’d discovered a bunker, old and forgotten and disused. It stretched nearly the length of the whole Island, its labyrinthine corridors vast and empty and ripe and rotted with age. It was rent free and cut off from the world, a sanctuary from a brutal life she no longer wanted to live. She’d come to call it home, and, over time, had found others. Mutants like her who had no chance of living normal lives up above the city streets. Who the world up top had forsaken.

Callisto, as she’d come to call herself, had brought them in ripe and ready, and The Morlocks were born. At first there were few, but with the powers of one called Caliban, she found others, lives broken by circumstance, good people lost in a world where the celebrity skin ruled the roost. She became a friend to them, a mother to others, a hero and a legend to them all. As the community began to grow in number and infamy, they attracted the attention of Charles Xavier’s X-Men, and soon pact had been formed between them. Things seemed to be going well enough, but their trials were only just beginning.

When Morlocks began vanishing, she investigated, and through a series of unfortunate events, she came upon her dead people and a child named Artie Maddicks, whom she saved from the captors, and came to view as her own. Others soon followed suit, becoming like children to her and giving her all the more reason to defend her people to the bare bone.

Soon it became obvious, however, that life in the alley was not suitable for children, and after a run in with a maniac, Callisto sent Artie and the rest of the younglings to Xavier’s school to be cared for. Things proceeded much as ever until once again the world turned on its ear.

Due to still not entirely-explained phenomena, a sudden regression in age overtook several adults, and took an inverse effect on the young, making them older. Much of what occurred during this time was a blur, and to this day there is only one thing Callisto remembers for certain; the Flood. In a fatal mistake, the mutant Wiccan used his reality warping powers to try and extinguish a massive rash of fires caused by the mutant Pyro.

Stuck at the school in her regressed state, a young Callisto was forced to watch on television as flood waters raged over the Island of Manhattan. The deluge killed or misplaced many of her people, leaving the community a hollow husk of its former self. Once returned to her normal self, Callisto made her anger clear, stabbing and almost killing Wiccan in the process and dashing any pact she had with the X-Men to bits.

She once more returned to the Sewers, and just as things seemed to be returning to some semblance of normalcy, disaster struck on a botched run to liberate mutant children from a crooked orphanage. Several of the remaining Morlocks were captured, herself included, and she was incarcerated, this time unable to escape, for the world had become accustomed to mutant criminals. As luck would have it, however, she avoided being locked up in The CAGE, and was incarcerated under lock and key, her hatred for the systems above ground growing each day.


DURING APOCALYPSE
For almost a year she rotted in a cage bound by heavy chains even she couldn’t break, years layered onto her sentence for each of several escape attempts. No contact from the outside, no way to facilitate it. But her chance came in April of 2009, when hordes of War’s minions rocked the East coast of America. They fell upon the prison she’d been thrown in, and in the ensuing riots she made her escape back into the city, fighting for life and limb as she worked her way back to her home.


POST-APOCALYPSE
The cleanup after the Apocalypse was intensive, and yet again The Morlocks needed to band together in tough times, their numbers now even fewer due to the rampant devastation of both War’s Hordes and the unmitigated hammering of the city on all levels by earthquakes and lethal weather. Struggling for supplies like everyone else in the wake of Apocalypse, she led a few runs topside which began once more binding infamy with The Morlocks as a whole. Seeing the group becoming so close knit had an effect on her, seeing this thing she’d created so many years ago binding together into something more than a community, something like a family, it gave her a sort of desire to spread it.

And so she let herself slowly but surely fade from Tunnel life until she was gone, off to start over somewhere. New York had only been one city; there were others. So she trekked along, helping to set up a sort of Morlock network, working her way back across the country ingcognito in order to continue her work.

She was in L.A. when the news hit about Gene Nation, and it was at this point she decided to head back. Working her way across the states, she ultimately stopped off in Chicago, where things were looking grim. Deciding to stay and help get things established, she was as surprised as any when the Chicago Morlocks came under attack. Callisto barely made it out alive, and with the information she had, there was only on way to go. Eastward, back to New York before it was too late.



SAMPLE RP POST:


She’d tumbled into the city on the wind, so to speak, and in her single day back, she’d already seen the way the Big Apple had shifted while she was out on walkabout. Callisto couldn’t attest to being surprised. This place switched energies daily, and with good reason. It was a massive sprawl, urban and dirty one minute, posh and clean the next. But she wasn’t here for the city, she was here for what sat quietly beneath it.

Or maybe they’d not been so quiet, as of late. The transgressions some of who she used to call her people against topsiders had caught her attention much like it’d caught the attention of the nation. It was the reason for her return, or one of them, the terrible business in Chicago only steeling the desire to return. She’d moved so far between sewer tunnels and back alleys, working her way across the asphalt footpaths of the city. The Alley, seemed destined to being a nomad in of itself, was not where it once was.

Callisto hoisted her rucksack over her shoulder as she mounted the ladder leading to the surface of the city, sliding the manhole cover aside as quietly as she could as she let her raggy nest of hair lift out, looking around for any gabbity onlookers before she pulled herself up, replacing the big iron disc and dusting off her hands and heading off down towards the streets. She’d find who and what she was looking for. It was very hard to keep her from something she was determined to find, and anyone in her way would find that out.

Rounding the corner onto the sidewalk, she kept her head down so as to avoid looks. She probably didn’t smell like roses, and while she wasn’t exactly an obvious mutant like some of her cohorts, she didn’t want to take the chance anyways of being recognized. She still had crimes over her head that warranted an arrest, after all. Still, she figured she’d been off the collective radar for long enough to warrant some degree of anonymity.

She passed a magazine stand and drew her hood tighter, waiting around for a few minutes until a window opened, grabbing a copy of the Bugle and slipping away into the crowd, opening it and browsing over its contents. She didn’t like what she saw. Riots, rampant politicians, super-suits gone crazy and off their hinges. New York was an untamable animal and that wild factor would insure against the amorphic energy the city provided ever becoming stagnate. It was what she loved about the urban sprawl, paper chase and beautiful people aside. Full of chaos and life, there was always something new. She folded up the rag and tossed it aside as she rounded into another alley, sure that she’d gotten her bearings now.

She was back. And in all the sweeping difference, there was one thing she was still certain about in this place: Don’t fall in New York, nobody’ll be there to catch you.
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Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
It'll be good to have Callisto back

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Buford Hollis
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Mechanical Hyper-Competence
Glad to see her back, as well.

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