#also like hte shine of the tears???? the way the sparkle in the eye also like ?????? you know

[heroes-hq-blog1]

AVACUS IS OFFICIALLY READY TO JOIN THE ACADEMY!

› LI JIAN › 19 YEARS OLD › TECHNOKINESIS › 3 YEARS IN THE ACADEMY

POWER

technokinesis – the user is able to create, shape and manipulate technology and technological constructs such as computers, robots, hardware and other devices that can be termed ‘technology’.

STRENGTHS

electricity generation: able to generate electricity in order to activate or render his creations ‘operational’.

mechanical intuition: able to intuitively understand the operation of any mechanical device and subconsciously/effortlessly create a schematic in their mind ; able to make complex devices or weapons out of mere scrap and “garbage”.

mechanical constructs: the ability to create/change mechanics/technology into tools, objects, weapons and other items, create semi-living constructs and/or create structures/buildings of varying permanence.

scanning: can scan anything and analyze the data and information that is gathered, including not just technological and digital subjects, but also subjects that are biological, chemical, etc.

WEAKNESSES

electricity generation: can only utilize electricity to power technology; can’t use electrical powers for anything else. it’s the most energy-consuming of his sub-powers so he rarely uses it; if he does, he needs to sit down right after because he gets incredibly weak. 

mechanical intuition: not enhanced intelligence, jian simply ‘feels’ or ‘knows’ how to build. so when he builds, if asked to explain how he was able to build the latest security system at the so-and-so place, he probably cannot unless he reads up on it beforehand. when building, much like mechanical constructs; he is limited to what sources he has around him. 

mechanical constructs: if the parts don’t already exist, jian is unable to construct. he needs an existing source in order for his powers to work. if he is away from modern society, he is pretty much useless.

scanning: also not enhanced intelligence, he’d only get a better scope of understanding but he’d still take a while to truly be able to reiterate what he’s learned. what he learns has a short shelf-life and he can only hold onto the information for a limited time until something else gets scanned or takes priority in his mind. 

ORIGINS

year zero. he’s a solid youngest of youth, reveling in the livelihood that his first breath would be a new beginning into a world frenzied by never-ending battle of war and peace. he’s given to parents whom are overjoyed by the horizon that hurtles towards them: the life of a family. one they’ve spent years trying to cultivate, years of preparation, years of despair and struggle that finally has come to its end in a form of a babe named li jian.

year two. life is a steady boat along a sea of easy sailing, his parents are at the epitome of bliss. he’s learning to walk, hands reaching out, eyes blinking – shining with glee, that sparkle of hope that something new was rounding each and every corner turned and spun over. he’s innocent, a repertoire of new faces and blind adoration fazes him; a smile on his face each and every time he’s faced with an obstacle, overcome with glee the moment it passes. his parents are there every step of the way, hands held, faces pressed into chubby cheeks. they’re as happy as can be.

year seven. he’s a normal kid, goes to a normal school – lives and breathes a normal life. he wears the jagged haircut most kids his age sports, is clumsy and thin. he’s told to wear glasses to improve his sight when things start to blur and the computer screen is seen pressed up too close; eyes squinting more than they regularly would. his parents’ concern land him in a doctor’s office, the optometrist’s eyes so narrowed, jian is sure that they’d never see the light of day otherwise. by the new week, he’s pushing up silver frames along a slender bridge of his nose; wide lenses nearly take over most of his small face. wiz is whispered along the tongues of the other seven year olds in his grade; the name sticks to him like glue.

year twelve. a selfless trip to the hospital for his bi-yearly check ups land him in a waiting room filled with ill patients; two hours pass – he’s still there. his parents look worried, hands are folded; knuckles white, but words are left unsaid. ‘your son is sick,’ he thinks he sees part the lips of his pediatrician. his mom glances at him, worried; his dad is stricken - a face a stoic mess of stretched skin over a grim expression. ‘but he just had the flu a week ago.’ he finally hears, there’s pleading in his mom’s voice, an unspoken plea for her excuse to be justified as this being a false negative – anything but what was actually being told to them. he appears healthy, he’s active on the daily; but as he lives and breathes his fourteen years of life, he’s told he’s been diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy. fingers shakily push up the frame of his glasses, blinking back the confusion that dust along once sparkle-filled orbs. ‘what?’ is all is heard as eyes close and his head clatters to the floor.

year thirteen. he’s in and out of the hospital, met with weekly tests and monthly treatments. ‘you’re getting worse,’ he’s told as the months go by. a nod is given before his head rests on white, sheets folding in small hands, thin wrists aching as he strains himself to stay strong. his parents are faint versions of people he used to know. the sparkle of life, the idea of a family – the dream they had so long vied for disappearing right before their very eyes. he’s advancing far too quickly, an accelerated progression that have the doctors surprised. ‘each patient is different, each person’s progression differs.’ they say. it’s getting harder to listen to them, jian thinks. his days now spent lying in a hospital bed, eyes a slated glaze of black. he’s put on the heart transplant list, in hope that the disease that ills him would delay its rush on his life. 

year fifteen. a rapid beating wakes him int he middle of the night, his chest hurts – enough that hte pain can easily be seen along teh thin contours of his face. he’s young, ‘i’m not ready to die.’ he remembers telling his parents before everything goes black; the sight of their faces, pale features ruined by tears are the last thing he sees. he’s an emergency case, put in the operation room the moment the doctors are alerted of the enlargement of his heart over the course of a few days. they’re unsure of what to do, options are limited, hearts are lacking at three in the morning. 

( nearby, a man collapses from a gunshot; hand to his stomach, a machinery whirs and breaks under the hand of his shooter, the man surprised by the weapon shattering. sirens are heard, the shooter flees; red is all that is left of the scene. a stampede of paramedics floor him, surrounding the male – transporting him to the nearest hospital. )

the evening is dark, the curtains are parted – the night sky is deep; his parents are no where to be seen. he’s groggy, jian can feel the ache in his chest fade, it’s there but its faint. he’s alive, one ragged breath after another. jian can feel his heart, or what he thought was his, a light thump that sinks into the silent surroundings. it’s all he can hear and somehow, that’s okay for now. 

six months later. life hasn’t gotten back to ‘normal’ yet. he spends every day at the hospital, beds excluded, but uncomfortable waiting room chairs aren’t exactly a nice replacement of the former. this time is different, he has questions – inquiries that his parents don’t believe, jian is half a mile from crazy but he’s sure as hell wouldn’t vow he’s insane. ‘is it possible to … have superpowers?’ his doctor doesn’t answer him clearly, he’s vague – a stuttering mess of vowels and a slim card extended. it reads ‘avengers academy’. his questions are never answered until he’s placed in a room, new tests are done and suddenly, jian feels a new type of ill.

year sixteen. his parents are eager to get to the bottom of his new-found abilities, the freak that he thought he was. he gets enrolled at avengers academy under the understanding that he’s now special; they don’t know why, they’re not sure how but he is. they told him that he hadn’t been born special, he was somehow made. 

in simpler terms: the man who had given him his heart that night had had the mutant gene and now since his heart was in him, living and beating within him; tissues getting reworked into his system, cells a flourish among his own, mutating, evolving – he was now a mutant. he’s unsure of the science behind it, nor will he ever really know. 

year nineteen. he wonders if it’s a stroke of luck that’s wound him at avenger’s academy, three years later and he still can’t believe it. everything makes a little more sense now: he’s partially in-tuned with his abilities to finesse what he thinks his powers entails but there could be more, there is always more that’s expected. but for now, he’s wading his time with patience. even more so now that he’s landed the stark internship, could this be the start of something better?

#hq:accepted #chen linong #nine percent