PowersWhen the radioactive chemicals got into Matt’s eyes, it completely blinded him. Matt has no vision at all. However, the chemicals also gave him enhanced senses, beyond the point of a normal human. Together, his remaining senses function as a sort of radar sense, he describes it to be something like,”a world on fire” or something akin to an impressionist painting.
HearingMatt’s hearing is especially keen. He could hear bone fractures in someone’s ribs, simply because of the way the bones shifting when the person breathed. He can hear heartbeats and is able to detect abnormal rhythms in them, which makes him particularly good at detecting lies, which is helpful in his career path. He is also able to use distinctive sounds to follow people, like the sound of a ticking watch. He can only do this up to 30 ft, however, and then the distance becomes too much. He uses a form of echolocation to understand his surroundings, by bumping his cane against the ground and guessing at his surroundings by the resulting sound. The echolocation only works for things that are directly in his surroundings, however, it cannot be used to understand anything that is directly out of his path.
SmellMatt’s sense of smell is enhanced beyond the average human as well. He has been known to be capable of recognizing people by their individual smell alone, up to the 30ft marker. Can be helpful in smelling cologne on a robber, for instance.
TouchJust like the rest of his senses, Matt’s sense of touch is above and beyond the average humans. He can’t use cotton sheets because it feels like sandpaper being rubbed across his skin. He has an extra awareness of temperature when touching someone, and has an enhanced perception of when projectiles are coming for him, as well as someone’s pulse when touching their skin.
WeaknessesWhile Matt’s senses sound like fun and games, they also offer a multitude of weaknesses. His senses are so delicate that it can be difficult for him to use everyday objects, such as the cotton sheets. Matt has adjusted to living in the city, but it can be overwhelming at times for him to hear everything taking place in the city. If Matt is hit in the head just right, or if his senses are overwhelmed, every single sound can become extremely painful for him. It is also possible for his senses to short out entirely, leaving him not just blind, but deaf as well. His sense of hearing his is most sensitive, and the one he relies on most to orient himself, so when both these things happen it leaves him absolutely useless.
TrainingMatt started training in martial arts and hand to hand combat with Stick as a young child. As a result, he is extremely skilled in hand to hand combat and various forms of martial arts. He is trained with escrima sticks, similar to Nightwing. As for martial arts, Stick trained him in Muay Thai, Stila and Judo. He is a skilled combatant. His senses help him in combat where his blindness would normally be a detriment. However, he is not a diety. Matt is still vulnerable when under attack. He has the scars to prove it. Matt also speaks Spanish, which he learned in college, as well as Latin, from growing up in a Catholic orphanage.
EquipmentMatt keeps his escrima sticks folded inside of his walking stick so that they are easily accessible. They aren’t made out of metal, but wood, for them to be kept as non-lethal as possible. He uses them mainly to stun opponents as well as for easy disarming.
The vigilante suit consists of all black clothing. Black jeans, which, while they do slightly restrict his movement the denim protects his legs slightly. His chest is not as well protected, he wears a dark black cotton shirt, and then a scarf tied over his eyes and obscuring half his face, but freeing his mouth and nose for breathing and speaking.
The armored suit was created by Melvin Potter, specifically for Matt. It is bright red and intended to absorb some of the damage Matt takes, and it is also fashioned to take on the appearance of a devil. While it is considerably safer, Matt prefers the vigilante suit most of the time.
Your mother has never been around. For the first few years of your life, it doesn’t really matter to you. Not until you start to wonder why the other kids at school had a mother and a father, and you had only your dad. You asked him once, and then you learned quickly not to bring up your mother. She didn’t matter. Sometimes as an adult, you still wonder about her. If only you knew.
Battlin Jack Murdock does his best to raise you right, gives you everything that he possibly can. It isn’t easy. You live in a crappy apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, with peeling wallpaper and cockroaches. But your father tries, goes to fights every other night. Does his best to raise what little money he can put together.Unfortunately, you make that harder for him.
You shoved the old man out of the way of the truck. You didn’t even need to think about it. It was an impulse move, you weren’t considering the consequences. You scream when the acid seeps into your eyes, watch your dad try to clean them out, but then it fades to black.Emptiness.
You are blinded at the age of 9.
It burns while it happens, it is not a painfree incident. The world is on fire for you in that moment, and for the rest of your life.
Your father keeps working for you. Harder than before. You listen to the matches while you sit at the table, fingers scanning across the books. You learn braille, do your best to cope with the fact that you can’t see. You’re good at braille. Sometimes, your father comes home, and you run sensitive fingers over the bruises on his face, like a mountain ridge. He gives you a sip of scotch, doesn’t want your hands to shake while you stitch the wound.
“Don’t use your fists like your old man,” He demands, “Don’t end up like me.” You nod, draw the needle through his skin. That’s when you know what you want to do.
(He must be so disappointed in you.)
You don’t tell him that he can hear his conversations from the back of the gym while you’re doing your homework, you hide your headaches, don’t want to burden him with any more. Don’t tell him how overwhelming it all is, how every single noise blares in your head. You heard the phone call from the bill collectors, you hear the conversation at the back of the gym. You don’t understand it. How could you?
The enormity of it will hit you. But it won’t until it has been too many years for you to do anything about it.
You tell him you want him to win. That’s all you want. “The Murdock’s keep getting up,” you say. “Right Dad?
You dream about it in your later years. It starts you awake in the orphanage, in the college dorm room. You understand later that in that moment, you signed his death warrant.
You will be asking for forgiveness from God for years to come. You have not yet forgiven yourself for it. You tell the Father in the confessional booth, that you don’t think you ever will.
Your face is lit in the soft blue glow of the television, your tiny, apple sized fists are clenched tight, imprinting crescent moon shapes on your palm. An eruption of childish elation leaves you when he wins. That was one of the last times you were truly happy. You know that much.
Hours later, you hear the gunshot, hear the rush of sirens screaming in your ears. And something plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You run to him, through the cops, rest a hand on his face, feel the ridges in his cheekbones.
The cops let you cry over him for an hour before they help you pack a bag, take you to the church. It’s almost something of a comfort, you know the nuns, you’ve seen them every Sunday for the past nine years. But when you wake in the morning, your father is still dead, and your senses feel like someone hitting a wire with a jackhammer.
You lie in bed with your hands over your ears, screaming about the noises. Birds on the inside of your mind, coughing, every single noise like a thunderclap.The sheets and clothing hurt, rub your skin raw. They let you cry like that for three days before Stick comes to you.
Then he teaches you how to fight. Throws you down on the ground repeatedly, makes you do it again. Purple flowers bruise all over your body. Again. And Again. And eventually you get good at it.You will be a force to be reckoned with.
You make another mistake. You spend hours weaving the wrapper of that very first ice cream cone into a bracelet. You spend hours weaving the soft paper over itself, being especially careful not to rip it.
When you give it to him, Stick crumples it in his first. You hear the crunch, hear the flutter as it lands on the floor. Stick leaves. You don’t ever see him again.
The abandonment breaks you. You curl into a ball on the bed and cry into your pillow all night. Sister Joanne comes for you eventually holds your hand, soothes you back to sleep. When the nightmares come, this time you smother it in the pillow.
You turn all of your attention to school. You do well. Valedictorian of your class, albeit, a Catholic school, so the class was small, but you get accepted to Columbia. You work your way through the bachelors program a year early, get accepted to Columbia Law.
That’s where you meet them. Two of the people you love most in the world. You take Spanish with her, and she smells like sandalwood and vanilla and she sounds so so beautiful.
The other one is your room mate, he smells like beer and potato chips and onions, but you like the sound of his voice, like listening to him talk. You become inseperable, you find excuses to slip your arm in his, but you never tell him.You don’t know if its because you don’t want to face your God, or if its because you don’t want to face the rejection.
But you are tied to him, every class, whenever you can be with him you are. It fills a hole you never knew you had. You intern at Landman and Zach’s together, even.
There is one night though where the screaming of the city becomes too loud, all of the sounds of a city in distress. You can’t help it. You remember everything Stick taught you. You don dark clothes, cover your head, save her. Something about throwing those punches makes you feel so good.
Late at night Josie’s one night, you agree to start a law firm together. He puts your last name first. You grin, tell him it sounds better the other way around.
Somehow you do it, find a stupid little building to rent, You hear a cockroach scuttle across the floor. But you feel at home, somehow. You smile. You say that you’ll take it. You get to work. Both in the court and in the streets.
ooc name Quinn
timezone + 8 gmt
original earth prime earth