⌦ the basics
▐ YOUR NAME Fanta
▐ OVER 18? Yes
▐ PERSONAL LJ
shrinking_sheep▐ EMAIL/IM TheXShadowXFires@cox.net/AIM: TheXShadowXFires
▐ OTHER AT CHARACTERS N/A
▐ RESERVED? Nope!
჻ CHARACTER Maximum Ride
჻ CANON SERIES James Patterson's Maximum Ride novel series
჻ TIMELINE After the sixth book installment
჻ WIKI LINK FOR BIO/HISTORY
Here! ⌦ the details
▐ ELABORATE
჻ HISTORY Maximum Ride is a recombinant-DNA human/avian hybrid and a member of the fifty-fourth generation of experiments created by geneticists worldwide. Dr. Jeb Batchelder and Dr. Valencia Martinez donated the human DNA which was used in creating Max in hopes of being part of an evolutionary miracle. Made and raised in a laboratory for ten years, Max was one of six successful avian hybrids alongside Erasers, lupine-human hybrids and the only other successful recombinants at the time. There as well existed scores of defective children and animals who were terminated for their disfigurements or left to die by their unstable DNA and other internal malfunctions.
Throughout her first ten years Max and the rest were subjected to inhumane experiments as well as chemical treatments and abuse by the “whitecoats” who handled them. When not needed, she was kept in a dog crate. At the age of ten Max was rescued from the school with the five other avian children and hidden away in Colorado with Jeb Batchelder, the only scientist who had ever shown them kindness and quickly became their father figure. When he disappeared two years later and was presumed dead, Max took charge as leader of the flock.
The book series begins here, with the novels leading from them looking for their parents, to destroying the company that created them, and to Max trying to fulfill her given destiny by saving the world bit by bit.
჻ PERSONALITY Max is a fighter and a protector. She has never believed in giving up or giving in to the enemy no matter the consequences or rewards, and never bats an eye at being beaten to a pulp in hand-to-hand combat. She is also a sore loser and does not back down gracefully due to an unbreakable stubborn streak that has made her countless enemies who would either own her as a weapon or have her destroyed. Living in a lab and on the streets has made Max rather unfeminine and squeamish only to snakes and medicinal things.
At the same time, she proudly took on the role of not only a leader, but also a mother to the younger kids of her flock. Max’s main concern is and always has been what is best for them and what will keep them safest. She would die for any one member of her small family, especially Fang, but would rather fight to the ends of the earth in order to forever keep an eye on them. Her motherly instincts are especially tuned towards Angel, the smallest and youngest, no matter how often Angel dismisses her authority or stabs her in the back. But Max is also the type to hold a grudge and very rarely forgives, and never forgets.
She is sarcastic and to the point. Max loves taunting her enemies and indulging in banter during a fight, and never misses a chance to feel satisfied after hitting an opponent where it hurts emotionally. She trusts absolutely no one outside her flock besides her mother, Valencia, and has behaved as a petty brat more than once when wronged.
Being a leader has toughened Max around the edges almost to a fault, as she is still learning how to make concessions rather than giving only orders and becoming furious when they aren’t followed. She has a soft spot for children and is slightly less suspicious of women than she is of men, but Max never discriminates when it comes to being rude and unhelpful towards people she isn’t fond of.
჻ ABILITIES Superhuman strength, speed, stamina, genetically altered and improved organs and bones, as well as avian DNA that has given Max hawk-like wings, air sacs adjacent to her lungs, and "raptor vision". She can fly up to nearly 300 mph, can withstand enormous pressure (such as deep sea levels), and also breathes underwater. Her father, Jeb, also taught her a combination of martial arts and street fighting.
⌦ nuadoria specific
▐ WHAT ARE THEY BRINGING TO NUADORIA?: The clothes on her back and an old pocketknife she carries with her.
▐ YOUR CHARACTER'S ELEMENT: Air
▐ WHAT IS THEIR GESTALT?: Defensive form: A pair of brass knuckles. Offensive form: a
ferruginous hawk.
▐ HOW WILL THIS CHARACTER FIT INTO THE ENVIRONMENT OF THE GAME?: Max was made to be adaptable, so she will endure the effects of the city and the fog and most likely settle in while waiting for an opportunity to return home. Her top priority will always be to escape, but becoming distracted by people in distress isn't uncommon for her. Her hero complex may get her into trouble or involved with goings on.
OPTION II
✔ THIRD PERSON SAMPLE: Her mind had been reeling for hours. Max had at first thought she’d been coming down with some sort of fever, but that was unlikely with her superior immune system. Then she’d chalked it up to The Voice messing with her, trying to send an important message in a form that, for once, was not a debilitating migraine but rather an almost unbearable heat in her head. When no message came and instead she heard the distant war cries of men, sounds so faint she could hardly believe she was hearing them at all, Max abandoned her bed and went in search of her mother. If anyone could help her, it was Valencia. Certainly not Fang, of course, as she could still hold a bitter grudge in her heart despite the terrible tugging at her mind.
Max felt that her very psyche wanted to rip away from her. She stumbled into doorframes and the banister while grasping her head, grimacing, hardly able to see as she tried to shut out every whirling, imaginary stimulus that plagued her confused senses. The corner of the railing jabbed into her hip smartly. Startled by the malignant bite of sharp metal against her side, Max whirled and tripped over the top stair of the second floor she’d been stumbling around on.
“Shit--!”
She fell forward, and her entire right side slammed against the steps leading downward. The unpleasant, bruising smack of contact between her and the stairs gave way to a rushing sensation, and there was no more pain from falling down the stairs, but instead a cold slab of concrete under her back. Her thoughts had quieted; the feverish onslaught of discord in her head had been too much, and the physical pain of falling was soothing in a way, familiar and distracting enough that she’d given in and let go to sensation. And what stood around her now was not the home of her mother, but a city she’d never seen before. And a hawk, ferruginous if she remembered correctly, that stared at her from where it stood just yards away. The majority of its feathers were a magnificent white peppered with red, and its eyes a clear, icy blue.
Max scowled as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. The battles cries and screams were louder now, quick and startling, and she couldn’t place them. It smelled of blood and death, and the strange hawk’s piercing gaze never faltered. Irritated and confused by the circumstances-had she knocked her head on the floor and fallen unconscious?-Max met the bird’s stare with an irate expression. Was this stupid bird really the only thing around when she so desperately wanted to demand an explanation from the first person she could violently interrogate?
“What?” she snapped, if only for the purpose of having someone (or thing) to yell at. This was just one more thing trying to ruin her already annoying day.
✔ FIRST PERSON SAMPLE:
[A video feed starts with the image of a girl looking very unhappy. She’s sideways at first, then upright as she tampers with the device]
Would some imaginary person please tell me this is just some stupid dream, already? I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for a lot of things, but especially not this.
[The video log jostles at an awkward angle, and it appears that she is tugging and clawing at the communicator around her wrist with frustration. She relents with a huff, shakes it about once more, and the feed rights itself again once she finally stops]
Fashionable. No, really. Nothing makes me happier than having some cuff attach itself to my person. Which one of you creeps out there stuck this thing on me? ‘Cause I appreciate the gift, but jewelry isn’t my thing. I’m more of a flowers and chocolates kind of girl.
[She whips her head around in response to a noise or sight beyond the communicator’s camera focus, and she can barely hide her unease. Max turns back to the cuff and fiddles with it for a moment until finding the button she’s searching for]
Okay then, time to move the heck on. Er, Max out.
[/End feed]