Wanion

This is the first of many posts in which you, the dear readers, get to read one of my ideas. Enjoy.


He was born William Matthew Drake. After his mother and father died, his only family was his brother and sister-in-law. They were his only friends. They were murdered in cold blood. As with most vengeance-seeking vigilantes, William knew there was no going back to who he was. On the day of their funeral, he commited emotional suicide. They would have only gotten in the way of what he felt needed to be done. He was no longer William Matthew Drake. He died with Chris and Sandra.

He now only went by the name Wanion. For small-time crooks, it meant misfortune. For the murderer of his best friends, it meant vengeance. For the entire Darkstone underworld, it meant a plague.

He isn't perfect. He doesn't see himself as a hero. He sees himself as a person given extraordinary abilities thrown into an extraordinary situation. His emotions get the best of him. When he comes face to face with the man who killed his brother and sister-in-law, jail time doesn't seem like the thing that should be served. To him, vengeance must be served. Turning him in is the last thing on his mind. First, he wants to beat him until he's barely breathing.

The cops see him as a threat, and therefore he feels likewise.

His powers consist of increased agility, increased strength, and the ability to manipulate the light around his body thus rendering him invisible. These were given to him by his friend, Prof. Sheryl Alexander. She sometimes regrets it, knowing he already has a "gift". This "gift" is something he'd like to either control or forget. But the way things are going for him, neither of these things will be happening for him.

When it comes to fighting, he's fairly unorthodox. His moves mainly consist of a few heavy punches and a kick here or there. He's offensive in his attack. On rare occasions, he feels the need to use firearms. Though it's not his favorite means of bringing people down, it's definately not his weakest.

Physically, he doesn't look like much. Compared to most, he's rather small. His clothing consists of a black denim jacket with a crimson hoodie underneath. On his chest is a crudely spray-painted W. Beneath the hood is a ghostly, white face with black around his milky-white eyes and a black bandana covering his mouth. Grey, fingerless, mud-stained gloves adorn his hands. His jeans are lightly torn and faded. His black boots have seen better days. His hair is fairly unkempt.

He speaks only when he feels the need to. When it comes to criminals, he lets his actions do the talking.

He shows some mercy to small crooks. He does what must be done to wanted criminals. He feels no remorse for rapists, pedophiles, or those who abuse their power. He's frightened by only one thing: failure.

Darkstone has always been a city full of monsters. Maybe it's about time this city gets a ghost.