Nothing hurts anymore...nevermind.
Frederick is the type of man who prides himself on his looks. Standing just a few centimeters shy of six feet, he has an athletic and muscular build to his relatively tall frame.
Thanks to his gifted abilities, his skin is clear, and free of scaring. His face is clean-shaven, having little to no facial hair. The hair on his head is spiked up on top, with a close shave in the back. There are blue streaks on the front that are accompanied by a single strand of hair that hangs in his face.
Freddy often gets compliments on his eyes. They are a pristine hue of Azure.
"MY MAiN GOAL iS TO BLOW UP! AND THEN ACT LiKE i DONT KNOW NOBODY!"
[Rapid Cellular Regeneration]
Frederick has the ability to regenerating the cells in his own body, and rapidly heal from physical injuries. Internal organs, limbs and even damaged nerves can take anywhere from a few seconds to a minute heal completely. The more complex the organ, the longer it will take to regenerate.
Reattaching lost limbs and organs by stitching them back with a needle and thread, or even holding them in place, will speed up the process, but it isn’t necessary.
[Weaknesses and Limitations]
Pain: It does not matter how much he tries to hide it, getting ripped apart hurts like hell. The more nerves an organ or limb has the more the attack will hurt him. Some are more detrimental than others. Freddy likes taking drugs to combat this, it is the only thing that really takes the edge off. However, this solution doesn’t always take the pain away entirely.
Head damage: Headshots can prove to be troublesome for Frederick as well as lethal if he isn't careful. Much like a chicken miraculously surviving after having its head cut off, he too will survive if his brainstem is still intact. If it isn't, or if his head is decapitated entirely, he will die. If he survives a shot to the head he will experience debilitating migraines, temporary memory loss, and lack of basic motor functions that can last from a few minutes to hours after his initial ordeal.
Shots To The Heart: This is the only organ Freddy cannot repair. Shots to the heart will kill him like any other human.
Body and Organ Damage: Depending on what organ is damaged would determine the effect it has on him. For example: regrowing limbs will leave him incredibly sore; if he is regrowing an eye, he can have partial-blindness or eye pain. These debilitating circumstances can last from minutes to hours depending on the severity of the wound.
High Metabolism: Cells need energy in order to replicate, so Freddy must eat in order to maintain his ability. High calorie foods are a must. He can easily die of starvation or even dehydration.
Poisoning: Drugs and poisons of any kind have an enhanced effect on Freddy’s body. He can easily be poisoned or die of a drug overdose.
True Death: He can be killed by drowning, being completely frozen or buried alive.
“You are meant to be a cure, never forget that.”
His mind is in a haze - an indiscernible maze of tattered memories that are strewn about like toys in a child's playroom. It was the snapping of a person’s fingers that brought Frederick Cantrell back - back to reality. A loud groan escaped his bloodstained lips as he weakly lifted his head off the cool steel table in front of him. The lad's head felt heavy, it was a struggle for him to look up. His skull pulsated with waves of pain that was so severe it made his eyes water and his body quiver. Now that he was coming to, there was a hint of familiarity to the room he was in. Four walls of tempered steel surrounded him. Bright lights shone directly in his face, which only aided his growing migraine. He went to move his hands to grasp his head only to find that they were handcuffed to the chair he was sitting in. A tall man in a jet black suit was standing there beside him, glaring down at him with a sneer. It was then, he came to remember where he was, and what was going on.
He was being interrogated.
“Mr. Cantrell...” A gruff voice crept from the shadows on the other side of the steel table, Frederick could barely make out the man’s face due to the bright lights. “Mr. Cantrell, are you ready to answer our questions now? We are growing tired of these guessing games.” Frederick could hear the cocking of a gun in his ear as its cold barrel pressed against his head. The voice continued, “Please, explain how you got to this facility.”
“I d-don’t remember.”
“Bullshit! Answer the damn question, or we’ll put another hole in your skull.” The gun pressed harder against his temple, he winced from the pain. If the doctors didn’t kill him, these suits surely would. The lab staff made it clear that there would be consequences if he spoke up against them, but did he really have a choice? Since these strange men showed up they’ve been calling the shots anyway.
A shaky sigh left his mouth. “I, uh, came to Platinum Labs as an orphan. M-My parents died in a plane crash when I was ten-”
“You were on that plane, correct?”
Mr. Cantrell quickly nodded. “C-Can I go now, man? I need to get back to my room. I think it’s time for me to take my meds.”
They ignored him. He can briefly catch a glimpse of the man’s face as he lights up a cigarette. This guy looked old, ancient. “Alright. Now, give us the rundown of what happens to you here at this facility.“
"I-Ah..." He stammers. The stress was making his head throb and his mind cloudy. He bounces his leg anxiously. It took a moment for him to recall the weekly routine, after all his hippocampus was still piecing itself back together behind his skull. Squinting he says, “Um, M-Mondays and Tuesdays are limb days. Wednesdays and Thursdays are organ days. Friday is head day - I hate head day.“ He pauses for a few seconds, “Ah, um, most of the lab staff are off on the weekends, so I have that as free time. I get at least five meals a day, plus snacks whenever I want." Yet another pause, "C-Can I have my meds now?”
“No. We need you to have-” The mysterious man stops mid-sentence. Frederick could not see him, but he could feel his eyes on him. “...a semi-clear head. Listen, you check out. You match the one we are looking for.” The shadowy man takes a drag of his cigarette as Frederick tries desperately to get his thoughts together, but before he could talk the other man continued. "I'm about to drop a bombshell on you, kid."
"W-What the fuck are you t-talking about?"
"What if I were to tell you the plane crash that killed your parents wasn't an accident?"
"I would think you were l-lying."
"Right, well, truth is stranger than fiction my dear boy. Stranger yet, the Terror Response Syndicate is responsible for your parent's demise. They were out to execute your mother and father, although I'm sure they did not care about the disposables that were lost along the way. I'm assumed you knew nothing about their lives as Assembly of Phantoms members, after all, you were a child when you lost them." Frederick is quiet. The shadowy man motions for his cohort to put the gun away. "Now I see I've gotten your attention, would you like to hear more?"
Soulmate: N/A (open)
- cries everytime he watches The Notebook
- pretty good at graffiti
- has a baseball bat called Ol' Reliable
- is a chainsmoker
- prefers to be called Fred or Freddy
- will probably be high 99.9% of the time
- Money talks: Freddy has a side hustle where he will allow anyone to chop him up, beat him, set him on fire, ect for cold hard cash.
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MADE BY ★MEULK