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There’s plenty of evidence of One’s strength. It’s seen in the broken columns, the minuscule bits of debris that follow, and the crooked doors that never set the same after being torn from their hinges by his bare hands. There is no denying his incredible power that sends bodies propelling into walls, snaps bones with a single touch, and crushes skulls with a thought. Even without his commanding voice and natural talent for leadership, One’s growing build and raw might are a force that no one can match.
Two’s skills lie not in his physicality per se but in the havoc he wreaks. His power is carved into the foundations of the academy, gouged in clear cut lines that bleed accuracy and skill. It is seen in the power that punctures through skin and stabs adversaries down with a flick of his wrist. Stealthy and steely, Two is quick to the draw and leaves behind a wake of destruction in the form of weaponry, each slick with viscera and blood that never miss their target.
Even without an extensive background in martial arts and self-defense training, Three’s mastery of her power is down to an art form. From slipping sweet nothings into one’s ear to sentencing an execution before her eyes, she revels in the utter control she musters with a word. Each syllable, each cadence is exhaled like poetry and the precision in which Three selects the calls of death are on par with that of a superior being, shaping reality around her and slipping into whatever role she’s designed with the quirk of her lips.
Intellect and reason are but a portion of Five’s potential, rivaled only by the spatial leaps that defy both physics and all that oppose him. Coupled by his merciless strikes at weak points and swift maneuvers, the flash of blue is all but a signal for the end. He is an unpredictable enigma that leaves no survivors, snuffing out people with a quip or a twist of the neck, sometimes even both. The air around Five evokes no argument and the labyrinth of his mind brings forth a chilling wound that even time cannot heal.
The horrors of Six’s skills lurk beneath the surface and create a creepy-crawly feeling that is unmistakable. Reserved and sometimes deadly silent, he releases his wrath in short but cataclysmic spurts that burst from deep inside him. His power is seen in the remains of his victims, mutilated beyond recognition and tearing apart families as easily as limbs. Though hesitant at times to unearth a supernatural power, the tendrils of his ability are without mercy and leaves Six in a shower of blood and pain.
Though forgettable at times, Seven’s penchant for annihilation complements the sweetness of her symphonies, dueling destruction as easily as art with but a single beat. Noted as a force of nature, she cannot be dulled or muffled by those that seek to silence her, instead turning their words back against them until they’re speechless. She is quick to anger and the shattered windows, overturned cars, and crumbling buildings more than tell a story of why you shouldn’t cross her. Added on to her unstoppable vengeance is an untempered sense of justice that makes it no wonder that Seven can’t be contained.
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There’s never a trace of Four’s power, only a frightened boy that speaks in whispers and shouts, shifting volumes and languages that range from frazzled to frantic each second. Outrageous and boisterous, he never stays in one place or topic, constantly flighty and unnerved from unseen ghosts of the past that lie around every corner. The only “evidence” of his ability appear in the form of narcotics, alcohol, and zany antics that plead for attention and decay the only soul visible from the inside out. He possesses ancient eyes that seem to stare beyond what is in front of him, confusing fact for fiction that float in and out of mind between puffs of nicotine and shots of whiskey. The only voices that agree with his worthwhile gifts are those that don’t pierce the other side, spinning nonsense like yarn that leaves him caught in a web of lies, half-truths, and gibberish. Locked in an endless mental civil war, Four arms himself for rejection and loss in the form of needle marks and polluted lungs, choosing instead to run, vanishing like a phantom without a sign or number to call.