jackson wang messy bios
𝗷⠀ ˒ 🍛⠀ 辟⠀ 𓏸⠀ 𝗍𝗂𝗻𝘆
한 ⠀ ■ ⠀ 𝘸𝖺𝗇𝗀 ⠀ 🍜 ⠀ 잭⠀
𝟿𝟺 ⠀◔ ⠀只 ⠀⌗ ⠀𝗲𝘂𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮 𓈒
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jackson wang messy bios
𝗷⠀ ˒ 🍛⠀ 辟⠀ 𓏸⠀ 𝗍𝗂𝗻𝘆
한 ⠀ ■ ⠀ 𝘸𝖺𝗇𝗀 ⠀ 🍜 ⠀ 잭⠀
𝟿𝟺 ⠀◔ ⠀只 ⠀⌗ ⠀𝗲𝘂𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗮 𓈒
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WHO
Name: Jackson Raemers Dossier: Janus Age: 29 Mutant Risk Level: Three Affiliation and Occupation: The Jem Family, Thief Gender/Pronouns: He/him Faceclaim: Jack Lowden Casey Deidrick
POWER
METAMORPHOSIS: Often called shapeshifting, this is the ability to alter one's physical form into any human or humanoid form. With practice, mutants can also alter the voice and exact mannerisms of the form they take to complete the illusion. Advanced mutants such as Jackson can copy the exact power of whatever form the take, whether it be human or humanoid, and can even manipulate body parts into weapons and/or reform body parts if injured.
AESTHETIC
They are the wind beneath your sails, the bandage over your wound, and the realization that it never meant anything to them. The cut you get on your finger from opening a letter and the blood that stains the white carpet when it drips down. They are the fake label that is stitched onto a shirt then sold for hundreds of dollars, the flake that comes off of a gold bar to reveal that it’s copper, and the cheap paint that washes away when an itchy suspicion turns out to be true. They are your wildest dreams come true, willing to do what it takes to get you to believe in their lies.
BIOGRAPHY
Fraud and robberies became second nature, easier than breathing yet essential to keep his head from sinking below the water. It was ironic, how swift his own actions turned from survival to pure indulgence. Disordered violence increasingly becomes addictive due to the way it supplied him with a steady rush of endorphins. The taste of rebellion even more rewarding when it was fuelled by the very mutation that he’d been discriminated for his entire life. He’d unlocked his true potential, a criminal with the ability to morph fluidly from one appearance to the next.
He supposes it was a form of obsession, in contrast to his former self, an upbringing spent repressing his powers to appease his terrified parents who feared the opinion of the neighbourhood than what may become of their son by neglecting a key part of his identity. Living life as an outlaw, adorning himself in tourist t-shirts and tacky dollar store sunglasses was a vast improvement. A lifestyle that saw him existing out of the trunk of his car, mustard stains from a drive-thru burger discolouring the map which lay open on his passenger seat, red ink circling his next destination. He couldn’t picture himself living an average life, didn’t want to be another cog in a well oiled cooperate machine where he’d become just another number sat at a desk until he’d worked up enough hours to pay off a mortgage.
Jackson’s luck fell short, naturally, the second his car pulled into sin city. Las Vegas with the luminosity of neon lights and slot machines was the single worst decision he could have made. Worse than disowning his family, worse than his impulsive decision making when getting tattoos and maybe even worse than the time he’d shifted into the body of a girl scout in some desperate attempt of getting a dozen boxes of thin mints free of charge. But like a moth to a flame, it was the adrenaline that led him to do it. Shifting from one casino owner to the next, he’d committed fraud multiple times each night and donate the remainder of the money after he’d loaded up on hawaiian shirts and sugary snacks, to organisations working against mutant laws and discrimination. Like a modern day Robin Hood, only driving a rusted up old Chevrolet in dire need of a new paint job.
It’s a mixture of arrogance and a blimp in his concentration that causes it to all unravel. Facading as a beer bellied Elvis impersonator in one of the chapels, he’d spent the evening pick pocketing gambling money from unsuspecting intoxicated couples who’d been making poor life decisions. It was easy work which naturally meant he’d become sloppy, the sort of stupidity that lands him an evening in police custody and unable to show any identification on himself other than a driving license that matches his true appearance. Jackson Sawyer Raemers, born November 22nd in the state of Arizona, an individual with an outstanding warrant for his arrest and a suspected mutant. There’s no court trial, no mention of imprisonment or bail. Instead he’s transported overnight to a medical research facility, sedated and left to answer for his crimes in what he would deem to be the pits of hell.
He’s carefully monitored, pumped with medication and used as a lab rat for illnesses to watch how his mutation may help him to recover- if at all. Cut open and stitched together again, regular interviews for insights on his ability and encouraged with rewards to see how far he could push his powers under supervision. Of course those rewards never met anything more exciting than a pudding cup with lunch or a ten minute stoll in the security monitored outdoor area. The three years he’s trapped there he learns a few things about himself and his mutation; no matter how many times they tried they couldn’t replicate it in a tube, even with the ability of cell reconstruction this hadn’t granted him immunity from the common cold and pudding cups definitely weren’t worth the amount effort he’d been putting in for them.
It was entirely by chance that a group of enraged mutants in the facility had grouped together to form a riot. The building caught up in an intentional blaze that triggered cell doors to swing open and allow their occupants to vacate. With such a perfect diversion in place, Jackson takes his opportunity to escape by shifting into the appearance of one of the women who had been treating him. Able to use her fingerprints to unlock the exit, the first thing he does is hot wires the Mercedes in the parking lot and takes off back on the road. They say old habits die hard, much could be said the same for Jackson. How easily he fell back into his old games of identity theft as if three years worth of reflection had taught him nothing.
He returns to what he does best, only now it was personal, the lust of rebellion replaced with spite for those who had been disceting him like a science project. Jackson spends his time examining the faces that appear in the media voice against mutant rights and the research entrepreneurs that treated as nothing more than a paycheck. It’s how he finds himself in Chicago, rumoured a place that was almost a santuary for mutants where he’d be able to meet like minded individuals. And of course, it’s how he finds The Jem Family. He’s still not entirely sure why Damien had taken a liking towards him, his only redeemable factor being that he was reckless enough to not question any given orders in which other members may shudder at. It was an overwhelming sense of finally belonging to something, that he’d mattered outside of his own world and could really make a difference.
CONNECTIONS
LUCA MENDOZA, Confidante: If there ever was an unlikely pair, it was Jackson and Luca. It all started when one offered the other a cup of coffee then snowballed into a friendship. They actually listen to what Jackson has to say while they don’t judge Luca for anything they’ve done. In a world that’s a ticking time bomb, it’s nice to know that someone will cover your back.
NEVE KAPLAN, Ex: Nothing in Jackson’s life had ever been easy except for things with Neve. They were happy together, as if nothing existed outside of the space shared. But like all good things, it came to an end. Her own revenge drove her away, back to isolation and anger. They’re unsure if the metallic taste in their mouth is from the memories of their relationship that plague their each day or the thought that Neve would never choose them over their own vendetta. But, Jackson isn’t one to give up so easily. They’ll rescue her from whatever darkness she’s drowning in no matter the stakes.
CAIN DOUGLAS, Frequent Visit: They can tell how annoyed the doctor is with them, and as much as they’d love to leave them alone, Jackson finds themselves in their office more often than not. It’s not their fault that The House doesn’t have banninsters on some of the staircases or that they got caught in the crossfire of a younger mutant using their power. Besides, they use it as a fresh opportunity to get advice on larger things at play in their world. After all, who better to tell all your secrets to than a doctor?
JANUS is CLOSED for applications. He is taken by DEAN.