Steven "Wombat Hands" Brown

Individual

Character's full name: Steven Francis Brown
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Steve "Wombatfists" Brown, Steven "Wombat Hands", "Combat-Wombat", pen name: Colonel Wombat
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Date of Birth: 06/23/1994
Nationality/ Ethnicity: Italian American
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Northern Minnesota, the Iron Range

Appearance

Hair color and style: Dark brown. Close cropped, slightly curly.
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'7"
Build: Slight
Visible mutation: His hands are Wombats
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: None
Other features:

Everyday clothing style: dark suit or collared shirt with a brightly colored tie
Uniform:
Sleepwear: boxers
Miscellaneous clothing: frequently wears a loose, patched trench coat (dark grey with colorful patches around the pocket area)

Character

Personality: Steve is not anti-social by nature, but is very self conscious about his mutation. He doesn't easily trust people unless they are first approved by or vouched for by his mom.
Hobbies/ Interests:
Job or part time job and description: Odd jobs for the Russian Mafia, as needed. Steve refers to these as his "chores". All payment and earnings are managed by his mother and doled out only as "allowance"
Jobs can be established later through in character RPing. If you plan on working at the mansion it will have to be approved.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Steve is afraid of talking puppets- from ventriloquist dolls to sock puppets
Special talents: Author, illustrator, Good sense of Equilibrium, when spun in a circle, Steve does not get dizzy/ disoriented

Morality

Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: bad: -2
Steve started living among the mafia at age 13 and idolized all those involved as they were the first strong, male role models in his life.

Mutations

Mutation description: Wombats for hands (Marsupial Patriarch)
Wombats are attached to his wrists in place of hands for a minimum of 1 year, at which time they can choose to detach, crawl away and live free and fulfilling lives of their own. At this time, if they choose not to leave on their own, Steve can "eject" them with some force. Their nervous and circulatory systems are connected, until they are ready to be ejected, so Steve can physically feel what the wombats touch. To a small extentent, he can also override the signals from their brains to their limbs and so bend them to his will.

After one wombat detaches, another begins to grow immediately, but is very vulnerable for the first week. Steve must take extra precautions to keep the infant wombat warm and safe. During this week, he can wear a special prosthetic which serves both to protect the baby wombat and also can perform basic functions of a normal prosthetic hand.

**One wombat in particular, the very first that he ever grew, seems to have taken a liking to Steve and has remained by his side. Steve has nicknamed him Colonel Wombat or the Colonel for short.

Strengths: Well the wombats are kind of cute. Girls seem to like them.
* Once the wombats are fully grown and detached, there is a small window of opportunity to shoot them.
* The wombats Steve grows are more intelligent than their wild counterparts which makes them trainable.

Weaknesses: Steve has no hands of his own
* Wombats have minds of their own
* Wombat understanding of English is questionable at times
* Steve cannot interpret what the wombats hear if he does not hear it with his human ears, their brains process taste, sight, and sound separately.
* He cannot understand "Wombat-ese", though has learned some of their body language

Secondary mutation description: Koala Pouch
The pouch opens on the sides, similar to a hoodie. The pouch is furry on the outside and skin-like on the inside.

Strengths: Extra storage space. It's warm inside, so the Colonel seems to like it.

Weaknesses: It's not that useful and has the potential to cause gender confusion.
* Very Embarrassing in social situations. When the Colonel climbs inside, Steve thinks it makes him look pregnant.

Fighting Style "Just shoot them."

Explanation: Each of the wombats has a small machine gun, once they have proven themselves worthy and well trained enough.
Pros for fighting style: keeps your enemies at a distance, as Steve is not the greatest hand-to-wombat fighter.
Cons for fighting style: Steve has to rely on the Wombat's training and own sense of morality to actually target and shoot assailants/ targets.

Faction Allegiance
The X-men/ The Order/ The NYPD/ Unaffiliated: -Russian Mafia

History Of Your Character:
Steve grew his first wombat at the age of 11, which replaced his right hand. He named his wombat Colonel Wombat and was very fond of it as a pet. Steve took great joy in teaching the Wombat to do all sorts of useful things. (Steve was handi-capable... or at least determined to be wombati-capable.) He taught the Colonel how to do all the things his right hand used to do, like use a pen, toothbrush, and fork (though the Colonel was never quite able to master chop sticks.)

During the Mutant Registration Act his mom determined that the best way to keep him safe, since he could not very well disguise or hide his obvious mutation, was to flee from the small-town where everybody-knows-everybody's business to the anonymity of the Big City and safety of her father's family. Her father just happened to be a mob-boss.

As the world became more dangerous, Steve determined that he needed to be able to send the Colonel into action befitting his command and taught him to shoot guns that were modified by the best minds of the mafia to be operable by a wombat.

When he woke up one morning to find a wombat had replaced his other hand, the Colonel consoled him and helped him train the new recruit. After the Colonel detached, he stayed by Steve's side to help him.

Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: Katrina
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: had Kai and Paradox (currently inactive)

Sample RP:

It was a dark and stormy night. The kind that was ideal for two things; staying at home by your cozy fire, or getting business done while everyone else stayed out of your way. Damien tugged gently on the reigns of his chestnut, affectionately named Grouchy, guiding him down a little-used alleyway. Grouchy, who would have much preferred the first and most popular choice of how to spend this rainy evening, snorted and stopped short of passing between the two ominous looking buildings. There was going to be no wandering down creepy alleys where he couldn't turn, not if he had anything to say about it.

"Come on, Grouchy, there's nothing to fear!" The rider softly assured his stead.

WOMBATS! WOMMMMBATSWOMBATWOOOOOMBATS!

"Sergeant! Knock it off!" He addressed the fist sized wombat who was carefully typing his favorite letters on the keyboard. The continued clickity-click of the keys was the only reply.

Steve raised his elbow, separating the wombat at the end of his wrist from the beloved laptop. He turned his inner arm towards his chest the wombat was forced to face him.

"We are working on MY book." He said clearly and slowly. Sometimes the younger wombats were extra obstinate in pretending they didn't know what he wanted them to do. Despite looking a bit like overgrown rodents, wombats were actually rather intelligent. Not that a person could tell that from the behavior of this one. He one cocked his head to the side and gave an impatient "ssnt." Then he tried to turn back around, little arms reaching towards the keyboard.

Steve rolled his eyes and spitefully raised his arm straight in the air. As he savored the angry squeaking sounds, his attention was drawn to his right hand. The wombat roughly the size of a teddy bear attached to that wrist poked him again with his little claws.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" He spit more than asked. The older wombat might not deserve the full brunt of Steve's wrath at the moment, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

The Lieutenant, still in keyboard range, leaned forward and, holding down the shift with his paw, lightly tapped the ? key with his nose.

Steve scanned the screen.

It now read "wombat?"

Well at least they were asking without the capslock key turned on. Steve sighed. He had thought that writing stories about wombats would be a good way for him to bond with the little creatures he was stuck to. He had hoped, once upon a time, that they would learn to take orders better and learn to write without him having to spell every word so that he could actually get something accomplished. Instead, he'd just gotten them addicted to writing about and drawing wombats.

And while the royalties from their first children's book, Fractal Wombats, were nice. What he really wanted to do was write fantasy and adventure stories.

"STEVEN!" A voice called from downstairs, "It's time for Dinner!"

"Coming mom!" Steve replied. "No, don't look at me like that." He scolded as the Lieutenant hugged the shift key with his tiny fingers and glared up at Steve over his shoulder.

"Let go!" He tried the same trick that had worked with the Sergeant, just raising his arm, but the little furry ball clung tightly to the computer so that it started to lift along with him. Steve stopped when the awkward grip made holding up the computer start to hurt.

He looked around for the one person who could help him with this situation. Amid the discarded piles of clothes and books strewn about he could see one more chubby wombat nestled in an old sweatshirt, apparently fast asleep. This wombat had once been attached to one of his wrists and still hung around for reasons unknown. Because of their history, Steven knew the convincing rising and falling of his back was just a ruse.

"Colonel!" He pleaded. "I know you're awake! Come help me with this."

The Colonel, gaining his name from his seniority among the three wombats, turned over and continued to ignore him.

"Fine." Steve hrmpfed and he swept his left hand- and the Sergeant around the laptop and pressed down with the little wombat body. The laptop began to close, the lid coming closer and closer to the Lieutenant. It began pressing on his back.

"Let go before we squish you." Steve commanded coldly. He would never actually do that, since it would hurt like the dickens for him, too. But it seemed like a valid threat.

Both captive wombats squeaked in protest. He pressed down on the lid so it moved another fraction of an inch. The squeak-level rose dramatically and-

Suddenly Steve was being pulled backwards. The Colonel had finally decided to enter the fray and climbed to his normal perch on Steve's shoulder. He chattered at the other two wombats, adding to the cacophony of rodent sounds.

Catching himself before he fell over and accidentally squished the Colonel, Steve righted himself and discovered that the Lieutenant was now half twisted around, hoisting the laptop screen with all his feet.

Steve gave a quick yank and the wombat slipped from the computer. "You better not have scratched it," he grumbled as he closed the laptop with a satisfied click. Then he stood and headed out the open door way. Having won this battle, he contemplated the next one; convincing the two relatively irritated wombats attached to his wrists to work together to get tacos from his plate to his mouth.

'Ah, well, at least there is no silverware involved tonight,' he thought.