Les sons de clinking metal, les moteurs de rotation et les jeunes voix ambitieuses percent l'obscurité du subconscient de Fuma.
C'était un rêve? Encore... J'ai déjà fait ce rêve. Je crois.
Il s'assied lentement, les muscles douloureux faisant ses terminaisons nerveuses dans une vague étrangement agréable de feu tout au long de son dos. Cela suscite un gémissement légendaire de l'arrière de sa gorge alors qu'il court une main à travers ses cheveux oranges.
Il fait toujours froid ici. Le lit d'infirmerie bas et crépus est chaud... Mais il y avait beaucoup à faire.
Fuma se tient après avoir tiré sur ses bottes, regardant l'horloge numérique qui avait été frappée au sol en béton. Il y a trois heures, il s'était effondré sur le lit, ne sachant pas exactement de quelle partie de l'agitation de la base rebelle d'où il réside le repos d'accueil venait. C'est trois heures de plus que d'habitude, en tout cas. Son masque reprend lentement ses caractéristiques de signature alors qu'il tire sur ses armes. Il semble que son armure n'ait jamais décollé, un style urbain de Kevlar et un plastique mat résistant aux coups. Il fait allusion à l'équipement de moto, mais sans l'esthétique pure et fantaisiste que les coureurs ont. Mais je digresse.
Il fait son chemin dans le hall muré de métal qui mène directement au hangar astronomiquement énorme de la base. C'est une petite base, mais effectivement équipée et habitée par un personnel intrépide dont il était le jeune chef. Fuma vérifie les stations d'entretien régulières, et vient sur le département de la technologie des armes et de l'artillerie. Il frappe l'arrière de son technicien principal avec reconnaissance.
"Merci d'avoir tenu le fort. J'avais besoin de la pause."
Axel, le technicien qui a l'air ruisselant grince largement, fonctionnant clairement sur de la caféine pure.
"S'il vous plaît, je peux m'amuser quand vous abandonnez enfin le fantôme! Tu peux être un vrai dur à cuire."
La folie de la technologie, c'est évident, mais retrouve un visage plus sérieux. Il connaît les tourments de Fuma, mais hésite toujours à demander.
Fuma rompt ce silence en souriant largement alors que l'agent de contrôle radio le plus actif marche les deux. Ses cheveux sont un bleu foncé accompagné d'un maquillage somptueux, de bracelets gothiques et d'une torsion gothique sur son uniforme. Elle a ses longs cheveux épais dans une queue de cheval, power bangs à l'avant, de grandes boucles d'oreilles et un chewing-gum bruyant. Son expression n'a pas l'air accueillante.
"Bien, si ce n'est pas la belle Radio. Quand vas-tu nous dire ton nom, hein? Ça a l'air bien."
La radio ralentit sa démarche et tourbillonne pour lui faire face.
"Pas aujourd'hui Fuma, je suis occupé. En plus, je suis loin de ta ligue. Une chauve-souris."
"Trop méchante Radio, tu es si dure. Tu sais que j'ai juste ta chaîne. Rai est celui qui t'aime, alors je dois le faire écraser SOMEHOW."
Elle soupire et tourne le talon, regagnant ses longues marches dans le hangar. Les clins d'oeil de Fuma à Axel qui semble déjà s'ennuyer.
"Fuma Je ne comprends pas comment vous réussissez à garder une attitude aussi légère dans cet endroit. Ça me baffle vraiment.. cet abîme obtient le meilleur même de nos vétérans plus âgés, mais vous continuez à oeuf sur ce qui reste de nos esprits d'enfance. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Je pourrais mourir aujourd'hui."
Le masque de Fuma perd son expression ludique alors qu'il regarde à travers le hangar les vies dont il est responsable. Son visage est illisible, un code plein d'informations et pourtant inaccessible.
"Axel, tu penses vraiment trop."
Name: Fuma
Age: 18
Archon of:Fire

Original art of Fuma. Feel free to ask questions, I'll have more art to post as the story progresses.
Physical Attributes
Apearance:
Fuma is 5 foot 8 inches, a bit lanky despite his smallish stature. He is a bit younger than the others, but his countenance is a mystery.
Fuma wears a mask with three black bars on his chin, and big double circles for his eyes. The white background remains blank, and the mask itself is extremely hard. No one is sure of it's material, but it never comes off. It's odd ways allow him to eat and breathe just fine, and it remains a mystery of how this is possible. Duma can even convey emotions through expression, as the mask's markings change with his facial gestures.
(I'm an artist so I wouldn't mind posting some character sketches of him).
Physical Strengths:
He could easily lift Maya, but probably not Marcus. Despite his small build he can move quite fast. His pain threshold is inhumanly high, for some reason.
Physical Weaknesses:
Fuma is prone to having tight lungs, his chest burns if he runs too much. His speed doesn't lack power or skill, but accuracy tends to be a bit of a problem... His greatest weakness is probably how ticklish he is.
Mental Attributes
Personality:
Fuma is your typical angsty teen. Lovable, frustrating, and most of all... strong willed. He likes to laugh off his pain with a joke and a brave smile, sacrificing his own feelings to keep those around him smiling and motivated. This of course can effectively work against him. One may feel as if they know him inside and out, only to find that he's a deeper mystery than before. Kids, right?
His attachments to comrades do run deep however, despite what it may seem.
Likes:
Fuma likes cherries, puns, and flying any kind of aircraft within his reach. He likes to flirt, but it's just a front. He likes to be protected, but not so much that he can't return the favor.
Dislikes:
He doesn't like his orange hair, liars. He DESPISES anyone who mistreats others, so his sense of justice is delicate. He also dislikes being discriminated according to his age. Being useless, forgotten, or discarded.
Phobias:
Losing his mask. The majority of Fuma's frequent nightmares stem from his mask. It cracking, falling off, being taken, or simply disintegrating. His mask is like a safety wall, in many* ways.
He also fears losing a comrade due to his own lack of strength. Fuma's personality leans very much toward self loathing, but he'll never tell you that.
Background
Fuma has lost his memory. He understands that he is different, but he isn't sure why. He prefers to brood on these questions at night when he should be sleeping, and in his dreams when his broken memories form into new unseen horrors. Fuma recognizes the violent murders of his parents, but the shadowy their of his childhood remains unknown, and he continues to ignore it.
When he wasn't drowning in the void that amnesia brings, Fuma continued the ritual of maintaining his training and wearing his mask. Sometimes, he noticed, it refused come off against his will. This brought to life fragmented memories of his childhood, scratching and pulling at the mask...
Without proper memory and timelines, it's hard to establish an effective background. I suppose one could assume that his background is what you see. His personality, his emotions, and his determination.
Combat Information
Typical form of combat:
Being the archon of fire, Fuma can perform close and long range styles of combat. The personal nature of his style tend to leave vivid imprints on his mental health, being a youngster, so he prefers* long range.
Preferred Team Role:
Any sort of airstrike is welcome in Fuma's book, and he is impeccable backup. His ability to read a fight is innate.
Weapon:
Fuma carries a thick black sword, two-handed or single-handed. This sword is broad enough to act as a shield, but long enough to maintain grace and balance. The capabilities of the sword remain to be seen...
Unique Equipment:
Mask/Shadow Cloak (cloak is more of his angsty tendencies bubbling up)