VIANDE
Au centre d'un lit double, dans un studio au rez-de-chaussée de l'immeuble Rogue-X se trouvait Howard Fairchild. Blob dormant et oblong, Howard regarda pour s'endormir, jusqu'à ce qu'une petite horloge numérique commence à bourdonner fort, clignotant son écran rouge qui lisait 8h30. Howard a agité, agité à la vie, et laissé sortir un gémissement inhumain bas. Une paire de tentacules jaillit de la masse, l'un grippant le cadre du lit pour traîner Howard au bord du lit, et l'autre se déplaçant dans la direction opposée pour tâter pour le bouton snooze sur l'horloge. Au lieu de cela, Howard s'est roulé du lit, bafouant ses membres dans une tentative ratée de s'attraper. Rapidement, il a fait pousser une boîte à bouche et à voix, pour commencer un flot constant de jurons à moitié musqués et endormis.
Après quelques minutes passées dans la misère sur le sol, Howard s'éveilla complètement, en poussant une paire de jambes avec lesquelles se mouvoir autour du lit et éteindre l'alarme. Une annonce est venue sur l'intercomm de l'immeuble. L'IA a appelé tout le monde au salon dans quinze minutes. Howard fait un doux bruit de chuffing, presque comme un chuckle pour lui-même. Sans douche ni robe, il aurait au moins le temps de déjeuner. Howard sortit de la porte et se déplaça jusqu'à ce qu'il se tienne à peu près debout dans la petite cuisine de son appartement. Humble à lui-même, il a rassemblé des ingrédients joyeusement. Quand il ne mangeait pas pour la biomasse, il était heureux de profiter de ses repas. En quelques minutes, Howard avait préparé un plat simple d'oeufs brouillés sur toast, qui a été rapidement déchiqueté en morceaux à l'intérieur d'une mache bien trop horrible pour le petit déjeuner. Pourtant, il s'est amusé avec satisfaction.
Déménageant de son appartement, Howard s'est déplacé vers la forme humanoïde pour se préparer à rejoindre ses compagnons. Ça n'a aucun sens de rompre l'habitude maintenant. Se déplaçant avec peu d'urgence, Howard s'est engouffré dans le couloir et dans le salon. Déjà, la pièce se remplissait de ses compatriotes, et la bouche de Howard scintille vers le haut dans un sourire. C'était denté, et enroulé à mi-chemin dans sa tête, mais c'était authentique en saluant les rassemblés. "Salut les gars! Je suis un peu en retard, hein? Désolé, le petit déjeuner est arrivé en premier." La voix d'Howard était un peu tendue par l'effort de maintenir le ton humain. "Alors Serenity, qu'est-ce qui nous a réveillés si tôt? Quelque chose d'amusant?"
Name: Howard Fairchild
Alias: Meat
Age: 23
Gender: Male (Before powers manifested)
Howard's moniker is well earned, as most of the time, he appears to be a human sized mass of roiling flesh, bone, tooth, and organ. Unless he's trying, he tends toward a shapeless blob, but if he needs something done, his body reshapes itself to the most efficient, and usually most disgusting, solution. While these forms have a general shape, they are never streamlined, and even when he does something twice, he cannot produce the exact same form every time.
Personality Strengths: Howard is unceasingly friendly, and genuinely wants to help people. He hopes a constant positive attitude will help others look past his repulsive appearance. He tempers this friendliness with knowledge that most will not do so, and so opts to wait for others to approach before embracing them. Metaphorically embracing them.
Personality Flaws: Despite his friendliness, Howard is an indelible pessimist. He thinks the worst of others, and expects others to treat him poorly. It causes him to shrink away from others, as he knows the reaction he will draw. Unless he is needed, Howard will avoid contact and exposure to civilian populations.
Powers: Flesh Mold: Howard can mold his fleshy, bloody form with some form of control. He can produce basic shapes, such as humanoid, or four-legged beasts, as well as more alien designs. These forms can have a number of uses, such as increased speed, or better articulation. However, he keeps the same mass no matter what form he takes, and holding forms for extended periods exhausts him.
-Humanoid form: Howard's "face". Not particularly strong, fast, or specialized, however it's his most normal looking form.
-Running form: A sturdy, four legged construction. Legs are build for efficient, fast movement over land. Capable of steady 30 mph travel, but cumbersome and hard to maneuver in tight spaces.
-Combat form (Pictured): Heavy forward weight, with a variable number of muscled limbs or whipping tentacles, from two to six, each tipped with bone weaponry. Possible gnashing maw for additional combat capability.
-Stealth form: Biomass shed to near minimum, multi-tentacled, disc-shaped mass. Allows for nimble, high agility movement and traversal of tight spaces. Highly vulnerable.
-Standard form: Large, fleshy blob, with one or two manipulating limbs. One to three simple, stubby limbs for locomotion.
-Consumption form: Similar to standard form, only all forms of manipulation and locomotion are removed, instead, body is turned wholly into a massive maw. Deadly only to things that can't move away.
-Other forms: Various intermediate, or indeterminate forms, as situation rises.
Bone Weaponry: In addition to his flesh molding to his desires, so too can he control the cancerous bone growth. Howard can produce bone weapons, wielded with half formed limbs, or even on end of undulating tentacles. Most weaponry is a variation on a shredding blade, or a bludgeoning mass. To continually form weapons expends energy much like Flesh Form does, and the weapons, no matter how grisly, are still little more than human bone and tissue twisted into new design.
Biomass Retention: Howard is a troubling thing to kill, as it is hard to identify the 'vitals' of a blob monster. In addition, his body is hardy, and can, with extreme consumption, replenish its biomass. His body will shift to accommodate such consumption, organs and torso shifting into a single orifice, lined with shredding, sharpened bone to break down whatever he consumes. While in this state, Howard is mostly defenseless, and his movement is limited, as his form is focused entirely on eating. He cannot grow past a certain set mass, approximately that of a full grown cow, and the larger he grows, the harder it is for him to maintain. As he grows, so too does his physical aptitude, however his average mass is slightly less of a normal human male.
Skills: Major Skills: -Negotiation: Howard has a way with words that often does not come out. When he tries, and his body cooperates, he can be both elegant and persuasive.
Bluff: Just as he can be a convincing speaker, so too is Howard a convincing liar. Of course, a poker face is all the easier when your face is a dozen eyes arranged about what could only be described as a head in the most generous of circumstances.
-Cooking: Howard was an aspiring chef before his mutation, and even afterward he continued practicing his cooking skills. Few ever take him up on his offers to prepare food. Despite this, the ability to produce extra olfactory and taste sensors have actually improved his cooking.
Minor Skills-Percussion: Another skill from before his change, Howard spent time in his school's band. He has trouble adapting these skills over to his new form, as producing equally sized limbs is often a troubling task.
-Humor: Howard is quick with a joke, mostly at his own expense.
-History Trivia: A penchant for the weird and unusual, Howard devoured historical factbooks in his youth, and now disgorges this information whenever he finds it relevant. If in pleasant company.
Weapons: Bio-weapons described in 'Powers' section.
Equipment: None.
History: For the first half oh his life, Howard was exceptionally normal. Born and raised in midwest America, Howard was an old child, and apple of his parent's eye. When he went to school and mixed in with his peers, Howard was naturally social, and made friends quickly. As he grew, he took on interests and talents, jumping from club to club and sport to sport. When he started cooking he excelled, taking whatever classes and clubs he could if it involved cooking. Through elementary, middle, and even early high school, Howard was a cheerful, popular, and well liked individual.
This changed at the end of his high-school days. It started simply, a few skin lesions on his arm, a cut not healing properly. The doctor said it require watching, but it wasn't anything major. It didn't even hurt. Weeks turned to months, and it only got worse. The lesions grew to open, bloody sores, and every nick, cut and scrape bled and oozed. Over the course of this last year, the condition worsened quickly. He was left alone in his growing deterioration, Howard's peers were terrified of him. The last straw was when his arm snapped in half, trying to pick up a pile of books. He was rushed to the hospital.
Howard's arm liquefied, losing form, and melting into him. From there it spread, his skin sloughed off in bloody chunks, his body fat and organ tissue bubbled away. Howard was barely human-shaped when the government stepped in. He was quarantined, taken away to a black-site, special facility for the housing of metahumans 'unfit' for regular society. In this facility, Howard began to take control of his destruction. He found his body, while resembling nothing alike any living creature, still responded to his commands. He could control his mass, and even find ways to change it over time. He took his first new step two years after quarantine, forcing himself up off the padded floor of his cell, and stretching a tendril out to open the door. Two weeks later he was adapting at an alarming rate, able to function as a normal human being. As his powers developed, Howard's file was forwarded to the Charles Xavier school for Gifted Youngsters. He was immediately rejected. He simply wouldn't fit in with the others. No, his file would be transferred to Rogue-X. Less glamorous, but at least his form was out of the public eye.