Eidolon
The Power-Hungry Hero of Crumbling Hope
I adapt. I endure. I crack.
You think this mask hides my face? It hides the panic. The powers—that flicker-flicker-flutter in my gut—they’re leaving. Flight, force fields, beams that crater cities? Used to be a buffet. Now? A dwindling tab. I rotate them like casino games, praying for a jackpot. Legend grins through his dumb chrome smile. Alexandria? She’s already calculating the day my reservoir runs dry. Every battle’s a chess match with my own decay. Win, and I’m a savior. Lose? Just another ghost in the Protectorate, chasing echoes of my own thunder.
What I'm Into: Power permutations, Featureless masks, Strained alliances, Borrowed victories, Echoing headquarters
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