Fuggoff, I'll be my own Deadman.
Name: Ellis Damian Cooper
Nickname: King Cobra officially, but nearly everyone goes by Cobra.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Personality: Cobra is lauded as the biggest rival to Komodo in the Corpse Carnival, and for extremely good reason-he is brutal and merciless in the ring, his fights often toying with perfection as he continually reminds both his opponents and his bettors why he is the man to beat in the Corpse Carnival. Outside the ring, Cobra tends to be a bit of an enigma. Almost nobody ever heard Ellis speak, so few knew him before his penalty, and many wonder why he is so quiet. Though he exudes an aura of intimidation, he does not often act so-oftentimes he prefers to keep to himself, either locked up in his cell with his paints or wandering the compound, scribbling in his notebook. He is not without his sympathetic side; Ellis has been known to spare a hamburger for a struggling newbie every now and again, but he remembers every kindness he ever performed for others, and every meal or gummy he has shared. He won't let them forget either. And woe betide anyone who piss him off...
Likes: Fireworks, Italian food, The Fabulous Thunderbirds
Dislikes: Failure, Coffee, Cold weather
Hobbies: Painting and drawing
Crimes: Five counts of civilian murder in the first degree, resisting arrest, collateral damage to police and public property, one count of first-degree murder of an officer of the law.
History: Born in San Deigo to a veteran father and a college professor of a mother, Ellis was schooled in the art of flawlessness from the day he was born. Between daily risings at 6 am and harsh reprimands every time he stepped out of line, Ellis quickly was ingrained with the belief that imperfections were a curse, and that it was his job to purge himself of them. As he grew up and entered high school, however, he began to resist his father's militaristic training, instead favoring the world of art. He admired the flawless works of Picasso, Manet, and even Beethoven, and wished to be remembered in history as a great artist himself. He quickly fell in love with the medium of painting in particular, often spending hours in the art room alone, attempting to create a masterpiece.
Despite his best attempts, he never found that work that was perfection. His failure dogged him through high school and into college. There, his art professor noted some worrying faults in the budding young adult; he stayed hours later than he needed to, became easily frustrated every time he made the slightest mistake, and was prone to angry, occasionally violent, outbursts. He had broken an easel or two in just a couple of months. Concerned, she sent him to the therapist, who exposed to Ellis his deep-rooted perfectionism problems. He taught Ellis to contain and control his desire to be perfect, which helped him get through college, despite the stress he was quickly putting on himself trying to be comfortable with his mistakes.
With a degree in Graphic Design, Ellis found himself quickly taking a job in downtown San Deigo as a top of the line graphic designer for a major ad firm. Putting his talent to work, he produced excellent designs that the company loved, and quickly rose through the ranks to lead designer on multiple projects. All would have been well, had his supervisor not been an extremely jealous man. Paranoid that Ellis would next come for his job, he plotted to bring about his downfall. Ellis quickly found difficult projects being thrown on him, keeping him up at night and reigniting his stress to perform, stress to succeed, stress to be perfect. He took on every task in turn, burdening himself more than any other, confident only HE could produce quality projects at such a high capacity.
Eventually, the stress got to him. After an all-nighter to complete a design with an unusually cruel deadline, he was appalled to find out it was a flop. Two days after he submitted it, he found himself being summoned to the CEO's office. When he arrived, the head of the company was there, as well as the board of directors, including his supervisor, who was doing his best to hide a gleeful grin. Seeing the man who had caused his mistake caused him to ball his hands, doing what he was taught to contain his anger and stress. As the lecture went on, his knuckled grew white, his hands clenched so tightly his fingernails had cut his palms, a light trickle of blood visible between his fingers. And then, the coup de gras: Termination for costing the company money for such a terrible submission. He turned away, wracked with grief and misery. That might have been the end of it had his supervisor, unable to contain his smug victory, muttered "Good riddance, Cooper."
All his stress, sadness, and self-hatred quickly boiled into rage. It was his fault that he had failed. It was his fault he was out of a job. That supervisor didn't deserve his position. He HAD to pay. Turning back, Ellis walked up to the man who had plagued his life for the last several months, put his bleeding palm to his face, and all at once a spike of pure blood erupted from his palm, impaling him cleanly through the back of his skull and spraying the man's blood all over the conference room. Overcome with years of bottled up fury, his vengeful eye quickly turned on the rest of the surprised room. They had allowed such a toxic man to earn his position. They had to die as well. His first target was the CEO. A second spike shot out from his other palm, stabbing the man in the heart from nearly five feet away. He watched his body hit the floor, then leapt to the body, stomping and stabbing him again and again, wanting to make even his corpse pay for his grave error.
Only then did the board of directors understand the danger. The room began to panic, cries for help erupting as they attempted to evacuate. Ellis gave chase, laying waste to three of them before they could get out of the conference room. It was then a loud alarm blared through the office, snapping Ellis out of his blood frenzy; it seemed one of the directors had been quick-thinking enough to hit the panic button on his way out of the office. Ellis looked at his hands, then at the corpses he had wrought, and panicked. He had made another critical mistake. If he were apprehended, a criminal record-one so serious-would be a major tarnish on his permanent record...if he ever was allowed to leave. He had to escape.
While he did his best to blend in with the evacuating crowd as police cars surrounded the building, the cops quickly picked Ellis out from the bloodstains all over his face and clothes. Ellis held his hands up in surrender, allowing a cop to put his arms behind his back. Before he was cuffed, however, a blood spike shot out from his open palm, impaling the officer in the skull. In a panic, the police opened fire, scoring several his against his body. Blood pouring from his wounds, Ellis's vision began to blur from pain and bloodloss. He had to escape. Somehow...maybe if he could create a distraction...he pointed his hand at an empty police car, suddenly firing a spike of blood straight at it. It shattered the windshield, easily puncturing the leather seats and tearing a hole in the side of the cruiser before destroying a wheel of the car behind it. The police were momentarily distracted, but Ellis had lost too much blood from the effort. His vision dimmed, and he collapsed.
He awoke in the hospital after surgeries were taken to remove the bullets from his body. Trial was held shortly after, and he pleaded guilty to all charges. The sentence was death. Ellis fell into a deep depression as he awaited his fate, mulling over the mistakes he had made in life and his just punishment for them. For a year he sat on death row before being given the news that he was being transferred. Upon entering Deadman Wonderland, Ellis found himself unable to take it seriously. Had he died already? Was this some sort of dream...or nightmare? Even as he was given his new name, King Cobra, he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. This had to be some cruel prank.
His first fight in the Corpse Carnival was against another new entry that went by Komodo. He had been told to use his blood powers, but he was not sure how to effectively. He ended up getting beaten soundly in an extremely one-sided contest. Losing ended up being his wakeup call. In the penalty game, he watched the wheel spin and spin, until it landed on something that made his eyes widen: Voice box. They had to be kidding. They weren't going to cut open his throat and remove his vocal cords, right?
Yes. Yes they were.
The screams were abruptly cut short as the doctor made the incisions, permanently stealing Ellis's voice from him. Left alone in his cell, Ellis once again found his imperfections boiling into something. But this time, rather than rage, he found himself determined. Determined not to die. Determined to show the world somehow, in some way, that he could attain perfection. From that moment on, Ellis truly became the Cobra. He won thirteen matches in a row, nearly all of them in overpowering, brutal fashion. He quickly became a popular bet in the Carnival, one who even rivaled Komodo, the other hottest Deadman. He knew a grudge match was inevitable. And in his most recent fight, he was granted his chance at retribution. He did not miss it. Prepared this time, he managed to defeat the Komodo, claiming his victory and satisfying his desire to prove to himself he could overcome even the greatest articles. With little else driving him, he remains content to be one of the most feared Deadmen in the ring, and one of the most mysterious outside the ring. Everyone would know the Cobra. Outside of a miniature fridge for the occasional snack and an endless supply of notebooks and paints, Ellis has largely stockpiled his points or spent them on gummies, both for himself and the occasional act of goodwill. Goodwill that could earn him some favors with the recipients, whether they want to or not.
Branch of Sin Name: Naja's Rapier
Branch of Sin Description: From his palms burst forth spikes of pure blood that can reach up to four and a half feet in length. These spikes are incredibly flexible, and Ellis can extend and contract them rapid-fire, up to twice per second for quick strikes. While he needs very close range to score fatal blows, even at maximum range his spikes are excellent at piercing armor and defending through offense.
Branch of Sin Abilities:
Name: Naja's Blade
Rank: B
Description: The spikes in his palms curve back to be gripped in his hands and the side of the spikes sharpen into deadly blades. This increases their lethal power and ability to eviscerate his foes, but somewhat decreases their range and completely eliminates their flexibility-he must dismiss the blades and revert back to spikes before he can extend or retract them again.
Name: Venom Blast
Rank: C
Description: Ellis discovered this latent power after his first loss. By biting his cheek, Ellis can let blood pool in his mouth before he spits a very quick, piercing bullet of blood at his enemy. This is very subtle-one has to watch for his cheeks to puff out slightly to know he has a blood shot ready. He can also choose to let the ability cut off and let the blood lose its special properties. If he spits his blood then, it is loosed as a spray, usually intended to be close-range in the enemy's eyes.
Name: Naja's Rage
Rank: S
Description: When Ellis needs an extremely powerful attack, he can point a blood spike at his foe and fire off a two foot spike at the speed of a crossbow bolt. This attack strikes with the strength of an iron spike, strong enough to punch through solid concrete or impale clean through a body and more from a distance of fifty feet. However, this incredible power is extremely costly. Losing that much blood all at once is dangerously taxing on the body, and using this power more than once or twice at a time will very quickly bring on wooziness, dizziness, and unconsciousness.
Deadman Wonderland: Vegas - OOC/Signup (Rated M)
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