P a r a s i t i c
Strung Deck-- The basic form of his weapon, unmanipulated and works best for securing to places and used for climbing around or perhaps securing someone in place for easier prey or for a hostage situation. Also can be used as a whip, swung around and lashing at enemies but the moment he extends it too far and needs to attack a target closer by, time is required to draw the cards back in. The chain of cards can also be broken resulting in the released end of the weapon to disperse into card form to which Darren must then manually collect. The cards' edges are like small blades, able to cut through and grip at things to assist with damage and / or pinning. | cards required in hand, Circle and Wave |
Scythe-- The form to which Darren uses most often but requires more energy to maintain. It’s for single strikes in battles or when he’s thrown to the frontlines, reaping lives with a precise swing of the large weapon. | Cards required in hand, Cross and Square |
NAME :Beate Die Nullte
D.O.B :November 25
OCCUPATION :Part-time worker as a faculty assistant at a nursery school
After becoming a Zero, he completely left home and was given a place to stay by a friend he met through his study of the discipline. The rent was free but in exchange, he had to work in the Nursery school his friend was teaching in.
ZONE :Zone 2
DEMONIC WEAPON :
In Zero form, his arm transforms according to his needs. It has three forms, each with its own uses.
Claw – The claw is the default appearance of his weapon(as seen in the app). He is able to move smoothly and efficiently with it, but could only cover an average amount of damage. It is more defensive than offensive. Rather than blocking, the host can revert the attack, unlike in the two other forms wherein he could only do so in special cases.
Scythe – The second form of the weapon, the scythe is much lighter but more fragile than the other two. It lets the host move and attack in a faster rate but does less damage than the other forms. With the scythe form, it is made possible to cut through air.
Hammerfist – The last form of the weapon, it is far heavier and drags the host’s speed down. It is however highly durable and could sustain attacks unlike the other forms. It strains the host from long jumps and movements but its weight itself covers a high amount of damage.
- Spicy Food
- Video Games
- Reading Music Sheets
- Noise and disruption
- Household chores
- Seeing people cry
Independent | Patient | Observant | Attentive | Quiet | Calm| Distrustful | Detached
Beate appears as an indifferent young lad, often striking an intimidating stare as he observes people very carefully. He has very few words even to people he trusts and even more so to strangers. He often keeps things to himself and dislikes useless chatter. Often, he would stay quiet to subjects he is not interested in, or something that does not concern him. However removed he may seem, he listens to everything that is said and will try to draw a conclusion on his own. This does not help his unhealthy suspicion about his surroundings that may sometimes be compared to paranoia. Despite this, he still has a calm demeanor.
Independent and determined, Beate can accomplish things on his own and will do his best in tasks given to him. He is passionate and is absolutely hard-working. He doesn’t want to disappoint his comrades and therefore he is very much attentive to their needs. It is despite the fact he is often seen as not having care about anyone. He is very patient and tries to extend his understanding though it is not always effective as he is often cynical. He remains as a lad who could forgive, but never forget.
The white noise sounded as I stared on the blinking screen. There has not been a sound in the household for a few days now.
The boy sat down by the end of the stairs, staring down at what seemed to be a now empty living room. The laughter echoed in his head as the memories now seemed like a fuzz of black and white noise. The deafening silence was only broken by the soft tapping of footsteps as they came one after another, getting louder and louder. Behind the woman he called mother, her baggage rolled and for each step she made, the boy’s heart seemed to just sink deeper into an abyss of anger, of frustrations and questions: a broken symphony. She stopped in front of the doorway and looked back at him. Her eyes like it never was: they were swollen, and there were trails of tears, but she was still beautiful with her locks draping the sides of her face. “Do you want to come with me?” She traced with her lips but did not utter a single word. He just looked at her and for a moment wanted to run to her but he didn't. He hugged his knees and buried his face in between them. In a few seconds, the only thing he heard was the continuation of the footsteps. He looked up at the man, ‘Father’, he called him, as he slammed the door closed. Since then, he has never looked at the boy with the same care he had back then. The space he once called home became quieter and quieter, and by each day the gap between him and his father became greater.
Only a few moons passing, the quiet nights became filled with a new laughter—it did not come from the young one, but from another woman who seemed much younger than the boy’s mother. In only a few more months passing, he already got used to the new complete ‘family’ his father was introducing him. Though the boy was still as quiet as ever, the woman made an effort to reach a hand to him. He did not ask for any attention but it was given to him without hesitation. He did not dislike it, the new music that was starting as the woman was kind and loved him as if she were her own. She tried her best to be the mother that the boy has been missing… but it was never enough. Sometimes the boy would find himself at the place where he knew he’d find his mother, but in the end he would return home to the empty space he has been living in.
Instead of burying himself in his anger, he disciplined himself by training under a Martial Arts temple and for the first time, he found what he excelled at. For years, that was what kept him and his step-mother applauded his every accomplishment. It was different however for his father who never paid attention to what he does. Sometimes he thought that maybe he’d forgotten his name, or maybe forgotten his existence. He loved his step-mother but couldn’t help but still feel alone in a space with no real family.
Time passed for him, and as a growing boy, he was still as quiet and detached as ever. He completely got used to everyday living with the same two people but it wasn’t until there was another addition to the family, just a few months after his step-mother and his father got married. The child was small and frail and had a weak body. Even as a baby, it was sickly and needed more care than other infants. This kept his step-mother away from him as she became busy taking care of the child. What bothered the boy most was how his father seemed extremely happy and how he praised even the littlest accomplishment of the child. It left the boy with questions and an even greater abyss than what his mother has left him.
The boy found himself one day sitting across the woman he called ‘Mother’. She still had that twinkle in her eyes and she was as beautiful as ever as her locks fall down her shoulders. Though they parted in a bitter manner, their reunion was much happier. She had tears in her eyes like back then, but she was smiling. He felt her strong desire to just go over to him and lock him in her arms… but she didn’t. She sat patiently across him. “Beate,” in a loving manner, she called her son’s name. “How have you been? You’ve grown.” A beautiful smile filled her face and with just that, he felt a little bit better. The years they have not even met each other was made up that day, and all his anger and questions just faded away. She seemed to know more than what he told her. All these time, has she been watching from afar? He did not ask but he knew she never left him… There was only regret that he never had the courage to walk up to her back then. The seldom meetings became more frequent, and ultimately it lead to him watching her from afar. Often he would see her with a young boy, a brother he never met. Though they were different, they had a lot of things in common. “Do you want to meet him?” She asked. A shake of his head and a simple “No,” he answered.
“Then perhaps I could tell him about you?”
He was happy that way—the way his mother comforted him. He enjoyed each second they talked, and he didn’t mind at all how she would tell about his younger brother each time. “Rhymu,” she would always start their small talks with. It was the only source of comfort he had, those meetings.
But those did not last, for every last goodbye he bade her, he welcomed himself to that empty space again. It was always the same sight, a family where he didn’t belong to. The child, though steadily growing up, was as weak as ever and needed all the attention he could get. There were times the child’s parents left him to Beate, and this wasn’t rare at all. He would just stay inside the same room and wait until the child’s parents finally arrive. However, patience didn’t last as long as he wanted to.
For each meeting Beate had with his mother, she grew weaker and weaker, and her voice softer. He always told her to at least take a break from her work but she would always say that his brother would worry, and she needed to work for both of them. Sometimes, he couldn’t stop himself and just drops by her work place to make sure she was doing alright. Mother always wears that beautiful smile… but I knew there was something wrong.
One day, as the child’s parents were away, the child was especially sick and as usual, he just stayed in the same room, waiting patiently. A beep from his mobile alerted him and reading the message, he didn’t have time for any hesitation and stood up. He was just informed that his mother had collapsed. That time, he didn’t know what to think, he couldn’t stay calm and he just ran towards the door… only to be stopped by the small hands of the child. A tight grip by his clothing and the loud crying filled the room. Patience didn’t last as long as he wanted to. He pushed the child away, but he knew he needed his medication that time. Without thinking, he grabbed what medicine that was available and left as soon as the child took it. He didn’t care; he needed to see his mother now. Thoughts filled his mind, but midway to the hospital, he stopped and turned his back. It wasn’t right; a child shouldn’t be left alone like that.
He swallowed his sinking heart as he ran back. To Beate’s surprise, the child lied down, fever rising as heavy breathing came after. He picked the child up, noticing his skin starting to have dark spots. He stared down, his calm demeanor fading as he stood up and ran out, towards the hospital where he was heading to just a little while ago. What did he do wrong, what was happening? Never had he before, but he held the child close to him. Before they arrived at the hospital, most part of the child’s body was covered in dark spots, and he himself couldn’t recognize him.
The young man stared down his mother’s face. He was losing two people right at the moment. He gritted his teeth, held her hand one last time before he went back to the child. There was almost no trace of how he used to be; the people in white all around the child as the frail body started to collapse. He had poisoned him with the wrong medicine.
Time continued to pass as the beat of the child's heart continued to wane and vanish. The empty halls echoed with a couple of footsteps coming closer. Leaning on the wall by the door of the child's room, he couldn't even raise his head up to see the agonized look on his step-mother's face. Much to his detriment, he swallowed his growing guilt and looked at them as they approached. They didn't even see him; they passed him by as they attended to the child with the fainted heartbeat. He had killed his own brother. Just like that as she knelt beside him, the doctor's lips traced the time; tracing the time that his father looked at him and will be the last time that he will. He remembered that he existed--and for that moment, both him and his father had wished he never did exist.
"For the sake of those you've killed, you have to live for them."
The white noise sounded as I stared on the blinking screen. There has not been a sound in the household for a few days now. Rhymu will wake up soon.