Approved Wanted

Name: Azmarius Zaranarium Requiemelius Antagoniza...or uh "Lexi just Lexi". Alex Dominia if you gota know
Alias: The Harbinger of Ruin, Drop Kicker of Worlds, That Lunatic With a Minigun...or as I like to be called "Wanted"
Age: I was there at the dawn of time, when wrath was born into the world when stars burst aflame to scorch this miserable cosmos! I mean "23 yeah that math checks out...I failed math shut up."
Tallness: "Certified 11 and a half feet tall. Math don't check out? I consider not being 6 feet under apart of it, so subtract 6 from 11 dummy." 5 ft 6
Weight: "RUDE ASS! Designated athletic skinny bitch" 127 pounds
Hair Color: "Whatever I want, usually a mix of black and blue."
Eye Colour: "Eye like my eyes to change so they do. Usually it's a neon hue though and I'm a sucker for blue."

Origin Thing?

'Long short ago in a city near far close a young woman was born. It was a time of constant war of stars shaken by the magic of tranquility. Eons of bloodless conflict of bloody unravaged skin...fine I'll stop. I was born in a small town normal kid, few eccentric hobbies but nothing to note worthy. I wasn't in a great place but felt like I always had what I wanted. So I got careless, loomed for a rush, spoiled maybe it made me want more. More friends, more sense of belonging to get more high. I f up, I stumble I fall in with a gang. It's a rush for a time, then I start feeling different. At this point I knew I was happy, knew I had those around me that I wanted. I shouldn't feel as hollow as I do...but I did. There was a unshakable power over me lusting for more. I remember the start, just wanting differences. I didn't like my hair it changed, I didn't like my clothes it changed. Somewhere it had me itching feinding for more however. The gang was willing to go along with it.

we're just teens though, idiots in a game for idiots not trained to be a big enough idiot. It went bad.

I lost them. The gang was torn apart. Families of theirs, of mine, of theirs which felt like mine it all comes apart. Fire I do love it, but I can't get the smell of bacon out of my nightmares. Knives I cherished them, but sometimes looking at one I see reflections of others. I miss them I stuck a knife in someone I didn't know once, and all I saw was somebody I did know. Bullets they were a sound that scared me as a girl, now I dance to them they're my symphony. See as much as I want the voices and screams gone they never fade. When those guns bark though it washes it out, to me the cacophony of chaos is a blissful silence. It's a paradox I think is the word, and I hold onto that.

I went to juvy until old enough to shuffle off to a prison. I've been behind bars awhile, you might say I'm clueless to the world now. But i know what I want..."

Skillz: As a kid i took to gymnastics dance and karate. Teen was lock picking, kick boxing, karate, and driving. As a inmate learning languages german french spanish, and a bit of weeb. Oh and how to make drugs. Getting out I found someone to help me learn guns. Now I'm hardly an expert in these things, but I want to be. And soon you will learn why that's a concerning concept."

Power Stuff?

"Some way "reality warping" but if we remove the ego I think thats to grand. What i am id say is an augmenter of ambition. I wont make a gun into a rocket launcher but i might not be out of ammo because i don't want to be. I can't shape shift, but I can make cosmetic changes to my clothes or say hair. Before lock up I took a bullet to the head and remember not wanting to die. So maybe a few screws are loose and bolts dried up as jerky for ravens, im still kicking. I am not invincible and im not a genius but my wants for myself might manifest. A short and sweet version, I might fit items in a bag that shouldnt fit. Can change hair color Eye color and clothes. Have more bullets than i should. I heal better then I should, and learn betterer than a bullet lobotomized dropout should. Id say if a wound was 9 out of 10 fatal i might live. Thats cool but im not regrowing a head or anything."

Equipment Style Loot Provisions:

"Two pistols nine millimeter style shooty bois. I've a not so legal minigun squeezed in a backpack it shoots 7.62 fastly. I've noticed I can shoot for a entire minute continuously. I don't have that kind of ammo, but I can't shoot more than that either. My want for shall we say more daka may have a limit. As well in the backpack is a good old metal stick! Some times it's a short stick sometimes not, and sometimes I've dropped it just to pull it back out.

I usually have the backpack with me. As well as I've a totally legal dodge charger with clothes snacks etcetera in the back. My mobile command center home to certainly purchased electronic style thingamajigs. These are normal things, but you might question how a thief got these things...well I wanted them tee hee. Ugh tee hee is to much even for me. Some uwu shit.

Conclusion Style Conclusion:

"I'm someone who wants more in life. I'm not good style but I want someone something to make it good. I'm not bad, but I know I want to do bad things to get what I want. I'm a mess so doing things the messy way feels right. I'm not a impressive meta, a sort of street level trickster, but I want to be something grander. I want a chaotic ride so let's see if I get what I want.

addendum here is where art would go. But while the fantastic art of Koyorin, and art of Jinx come to mind I didn't want to just drag and drop. Didn't feel in the spirit of new bpx
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