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Rose Wendell & the Greatcoat
Played By: Ren

Rose Wendell & the Greatcoat by Ren

TEAM: Solo Hero


KIT CLASS: Everyman

Main Event Winner!

Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 20 wins!

Brutal - 2 fatalaties!

HexxJo's Cool Character Award!

Fight Record
League Wins: 11
League Losses: 1
Out Of League Wins: 9
Out of League Losses: 2
Total Wins: 20
Total Losses: 3
jJunebug Jankins IV, Heir JJ Ent. - Win 14-4
Sunburn Blackash - Win 8-3
The Coal City Swampman - Win 16-8
The Honorable Festering Ire - Win 16-6
Sunburn Blackash - Win 16-5
Sugar Sweet and the Color Bunch - Win 9-8
Zamora Weavair - Win 17-6
Charles - Win 16-7
Bad Fanfiction Hunter: Z - Win 15-11
Greedcraft - Win 14-9
Tommy and the War - Win 18-6
Jennifer Chase - Win 18-9
Bi-Polar AMI - Loss 12-13
Aleister Michaels - Win 21-11
Christopher Marlowe - Win 15-11
Arick Huebris - Win 17-10
Ghiest - Loss 1-4
The Extra Big - Win 21-10
V - Win 17-10
Dodge Murphy - Win 13-12
Bunny - Win 16-13
The End - Win 15-12
Sphere - Loss 11-13

Thirty-five students from sat atop the roof of their high school, quietly talking amongst each other. Why they had all decided to gather on the roof they didn't know, but it was the perfect idea now. Dining on dinners during sunset on one of the highest buildings in town. One of those things at least half of them wished had come to them earlier.

Despite being together for their little supper, they drifted apart into their own little groups. Those from the chess club found their little corner, chattered amongst themselves about the latest sci-fi show that was about to debut on some network somewhere and how bad it could possibly be. A small group of would-be skatepunks lounged around in the shadows, wordlessly soaking up the clouds, the few birds flying about overhead, and any other contents the sky cared to show them. And several stragglers from the poetry club sat around a small group of three - Angel, Rose, and My. They spoke very quietly about various good things, charmed or cherishable. The poets spoke, mostly. The three of them enjoyed listening too much.

Rose was the first to see him. My was the first to notice that Rose didn't seem to be listening anymore, just staring intently at something, her eyes then following hers to see just what she saw. Angel was the first to notice the two of them watching the same thing. Her eyes followed theirs, as the poets' followed hers, the chess players' followed theirs, and the skatepunks' followed theirs. A lone figure stood besides the rooftop maintenance shed. He looked out at the sun and the hazy horizon surrounding it, letting the wind blow in his face. The autumn breeze did not bother him - it picked up a little and he brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. His hair was long, maybe shoulder-length, light enough to drift in the current. Drifting like the gray greatcoat that billowed behind his back.

He breathed with a strange rhythm, a way that became more apparent as he lifted his arms from his sides. He held them out, his fingers slowly curling away from his palms while he breathed in and out, in and out. Not so much in and out, more like it was in out, in out, in out, with no recognizable break in between, a sort of fluid breathing to which there was no separate inhale or exhale, just one continuous motion that did not cease. He was taking in the wind, not just letting it brush by his face but letting it pass through his nose and down into his lungs where it could only spread to the rest of his body before being released again into the current.

The man - or boy, whichever he could be called, he looked too innocent and whimsical to be a man and too still and in-tune to be a boy - slowly began to spin on his heels, letting the wind spin him around or at least pretending to. A slow pirouette, not that really but a better word for it they could not think of, one that reminded them of fallen windmills and the knick-knacks some people put in their front lawns to give a good indication of how strong the wind blew. The greatcoat moved with him, wrapping around him one moment and jumping into the current the next. Then his feet stopped touching the ground, and he lifted off into the air.


Personality: He hung there for a moment, remaining still in body but still spinning around and around and around. His eyes shut and his chin raised up, then he began to climb higher. Higher above the roof, above where he had been standing, where he had let the wind brush across his face, and higher above them. Them, they looked on astonished into near-silence with only little sounds of awe escaping their throats to tell one another that they were still there. They did not run from the sight. They did not need to nor did they want to. They could only watch as he drifted upward, and then slowly towards them.

For a moment, he opened his eyes to look at them. His eyes caught theirs as sand began to fall from his shoes. They didn't realize it at first, only looking into his eyes or trying to catch them again as he span, but eventually noticing the stream of sand falling down and being pulled into the wind. Then they saw that this was not sand, but it was him. He was falling into fine dust, breaking down from the feet first, then into his hands and arms, then into his legs and eventually into the rest of his body. The last they saw of his eyes was caught up in a whirl of sand before it was gone, taken away by a gust of wind. All that remained of him was his greatcoat. It drifted down, no longer supported by a set of shoulders, falling towards the rooftop.

It fell towards Rose, casting her into a moment of shadow before she dropped her books and reached out for it. The coat fell into her arms, its weight suddenly becoming real and making her take one step back. She held it, slung over one of her arms, and stared at it. They all stared at it, not in curiosity or puzzlement, but in this odd forlorn way as if they had just lost something dear and precious.

She could stand there, looking at the coat for an eternity. But she instead sat down and ran her hands along one of the coat's folds. She slid her hand into a pocketful of sand. It was soft against her fingertips.

No one spoke of the event from that day on. They didn't need to. They all accepted it. A person they hadn't seen before could fly, break apart into dust, and never be heard from again. Perhaps they all thought it would just be regarded as some silly mass hallucination. Or maybe they wanted to keep it to themselves. They were there to experience it, so it was their memory alone and it would remain that way.




Weak BELOW normal human strength -
can bench press 50 pounds (maybe).


Standard Normal human agility.


Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there.


Standard Normal human mental resources.


Rose would never know why, but she had felt like walking home that day. It escaped her to tell Angel - one of her uncles ended up picking her up and taking her home. My decided to walk home - she stayed with her for awhile until she had to turn off Rose's path and make her own way home. So it was just Rose in the twilight, going through town until she reached the home she slept at.

She had thought it would be a nice and quiet walk through the city. She hadn't expected the winds to pick up or for the sky to tear itself open. She walked under whatever overhang she could find, keeping herself mostly dry except for her shoes. She shivered briefly, clutching tightly at the greatcoat folded in her arms. It had gotten very cold, and she was glad that she hadn't been soaked. That could only make it unbearably more cold and uncomfortable. She didn't like to be miserable when she was outside, but sometimes it was unavoidable. And now she would have to cross the street, exposing herself to the rains that were changing ever so slowly into torrents. She stood on the sidewalk, staring across the street to the barely-visible signs beyond.

She looked down to the coat she held in her arms. Its gray matched its bleak surroundings, but it stood out somehow. She stared thoughtfully at it, and decided to try it on. She gently slipped off her backpack and let it settle on the ground, then slung the coat over her shoulders, sliding her arms inside the sleeves. She adjusted it until it fit comfortably across her shoulders and back. It was a perfect fit.

She sighed in a sort of contented awe, curling it tightly around her, letting it envelop her in new and welcome warmth. She could only feel the wind blowing across her face and ankles now. The greatcoat protected her from the bitter cold. It was so comfortable, relaxing even. She didn't know how long she stood there, didn't care to know. It was being wrapped tightly in bedcovers on a chilling winter night, it was taking a warm bath after building snowmen and snow castles, it was hot chocolate before the fireplace after a day of shoveling or raking. A beautiful warmth that she wanted when she remembered what it was.

It was still raining. She opened her eyes and forgot that she should care. Picking up her backpack, slinging it across her shoulders, and wrapping herself tightly in the greatcoat, she continued out into the rain.


She wore it into school the next day. Angel and My were waiting outside the building for her, as they did almost every other school day. My gave her an odd look as she approached, Angel somehow not noticing and preferring to wave and call out a greeting. Rose waved back, smiling with an ease different from her usual. Rose slowed her pace in front of them, and they turned to head inside. Rose held at the straps of her backpack, My every so often glancing at the coat from Rose's right, and Angel demure as always, oblivious to My's curiosity.

Once they were inside, weaving by groups of students hanging around the rows of lockers that belonged to them, My spoke up. "Rose?"


"Your coat.... It's purple."

"Not purple, violet." She had always wanted a violet coat.

My's eyes turned to the ceiling, momentarily puzzled. "Wasn't it gray before?"

"Are you sure?"

"...No, I guess not. But I don't think it was violet."

Rose shrugged, hands tentatively sliding into the pockets. Something poked at one of her fingers. A piece of paper. She fingered it for a moment to make sure it wasn't just a tag, then pulled it out. It was a folded-up note. She unfolded it and began to read.

To the person wearing my jacket,

This is your jacket now. Take care of it and it will take care of you.

Sincerely and with love,

Gary Spencer, the former owner of this jacket.

She smiled when she read the word 'love'.


Rose liked to walk home every day after that. No more buses or carpooling for her, she went straight home through the city, past the theaters and apartments. Everything passed by her like oil in water, vivid and serene in the light, soaking up the sights and smells and letting them rest in her mind. Moisture in the foggy air. Cars passing a little fast. Feet of all sizes and shapes. Light bouncing off windows and shining on wood and stone and skin. Some distant shouting and a shadow on the sidewalk that moved closer to her.

She looked up and saw something that was falling towards her. It was made of polished wood and was very pretty. She didn't move, couldn't or wouldn't get out of the way fast enough. She could imagine it hitting her shoulder, throwing her to the ground, dazing and breaking her. Directly above her it stopped going down, instead shooting to her left and into a building's brick wall. It shocked her, she stumbled towards the edge of the sidewalk.


She wasn't in the road but she was near it, until her foot slipped off the curb. Cars were still passing. She could imagine slumping on the windshield as it hit her, throwing her back onto the road as it stopped. She heard tires screeching, a blaring horn, and the crunch of fiberglass.

There was a car in front of her, engine running, driver sitting stunned behind the wheel. She did not move, the car did not move her or touch her even. There were handprints in the hood.

She looked at the windshield and saw someone leaning over the hood instead of her own reflection. She knew who it was. He looked nervous.


The driver made Rose exchange information before they went their separate ways. Rose took the rest of the way home in a taxi. The ride would be short but there was still lots to take in. She could see sharply through the haze to the outside. She watched idly as people walked in and out of buildings, on the sidewalks, through their lives. She thought she might be able to listen to them if she put her ear to the window. She cracked it open instead.

Moisture in the foggy air. Cars passing a little fast. Feet of all sizes and shapes. Newer things now. The scent of fresh-baked bread from a bakery, even through the taxi's hot smell. Someone whistling a Beatles tune as loud as they could.

She sat in a beautiful, solemn content. She was safe. She felt free.


"Hi Mom." Rose said it before her mother opened the door. She said it again when her mother walked into the kitchen.

"Hi Rose." She eyed her daughter's coat. She hadn't seen it before today, despite Rose having it for a week. "Where'd you get that jacket?"

"A friend gave it to me."

"It looks kind of old."

"I like it."

"Is it from anyone I know?"

"No." Rose reached into her pocket and fingered the note. She thought a moment about telling her mother everything. The school roof, the sand that was no longer in her pockets, the walks home, the phone call they'd likely receive tomorrow about a damaged car.

She drew the note from out of her pocket. Paused. Unfolded it. As she glanced at the note, a look of puzzled wonder crossed her face.

To the person holding my coat,

Could you please give my coat back to me? It's a very nice coat and I like it very much, so I would like to have it back.

Sincerely and with thanks,

Rose Wendell, the current owner of this coat.

It was in her handwriting this time. She didn't recall writing it.

"What's that?" Her mother glanced at the paper, disinterested.

"It's something I wrote for myself earlier." She folded it back up and slid it in her pocket.

Highly Durable

There was a floor-length mirror in Rose's house that she would pass every time she came through the front door. She's stop to look in it every now and again. She hoped she would see someone else in it.

She'd see him there and in other mirrors every now and then. She knew he was the same person she saw on the rooftop - Gary. He had the same shoes and pants and shirt. He didn't wear the jacket, that was hers now. Sometimes he looked tired or sleepy. Most of the time, he smiled. One time she saw him wiping something off his face. It looked like sweat and soot.

She wished he would be in the mirrors more, to see if she could talk to him and find out who he was. She knew he was the one who protected her now.


She stood alone upon the school's rooftop. The sun had begun to fall behind the horizon, making the sky glow with the color of the leaves she could remember raking and jumping into so many times. It was a beautiful sunset, like many other sunsets before it. But she could grasp the true beauty of it now. She wasn't sure what it was or how she could understand how lovely it was, but it all made her feel like drifting off into it. Going into the warm sky and going beyond seeing the beauty and actually feeling it.

She could only smile as she lifted her arms up from her sides. If only she could do what that boy did. Lift up into the sky. She started to turn on her heels, closing her eyes as she moved across the roof in her lilting circles. Feeling the breeze blow through her hair and around her ankles while she danced, humming a tune to herself. She hardly noticed when she went over the ledge, still spinning in circles with her arms raised and her hands outstretched. She could only hang in the air and spin. She didn't notice when she floated back over the roof and touched back down again, slowing in her spinning until she stood still again and stared at the horizon. She smiled, coming so close to wondering if she was dreaming it all....

Machine Wash Warm, No Bleach

  • Power: Psychic Vampire
  • Level:Standard
  • Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
It had been weeks since the coat had landed in Rose's arms. She had spent that time waking up. The world had been so dull before, but not any more. Everything brimmed with life and energy now, and she couldn't help but rush to meet all of the things she hadn't noticed. Conversations between birds. The faces charity collectors would make when they thought no one was looking. Plant sprouts poking through holes in rocks or gaps in concrete. Even things she would never learn the stories behind, like the histories of well-used thrift store goods or graffiti hidden down side alleys.

Cities and forests were her favorite places to be. There was so much in the outside world. She loved walking home through the city especially. She had even gotten Rose and My into it. They'd people-watch, sometimes making up their own stories when the stories weren't evident. My's were irreverent, sometimes edged with cynicism or darkness. Angel's were usually love stories, lost or unrequited or passionate and very seldomly straying. Rose's were about passion and energy: overwhelming wanderlust, driven competition, lifetimes of preparation and education for the sake of their goals, needs and wants and desires, things she was beginning to understand better.

So much life. She took it in like breaths of air. It made her feel complete.

Tumble Dry Low

Of the few things Gary Spencer remembered from before his death, he remembered that he wanted to live.

He used to be physically fit because he made himself train five days a week. He was intellectually capable because he forced himself to study anything and everything that struck him as good to know. He was well-off financially because he worked every summer and even part-time on school weekends when he could, and even ended up earning himself partial scholarships to various schools (which was unintentional on his part but not unwelcome at all). Beyond school and work, there was not a night that he spent without friends or other people whose company he enjoyed. He brimmed with energy, with warmth, and, if you paid close attention to how he treated the people close to him, with something not unlike love.

Gary's want to live was so great that he sometimes had no choice but to share. One of his best friends was Tim Parden. He used to be a short, overweight, antisocial kid a couple of grades below Gary. Gary had gotten to like Tim, because he could be funny, but it was mostly masked by bitterness. So Gary helped him up. Told Tim how he ate, what he did when he trained, how he cleaned himself up every morning, pressed on him to be better. A year-and-a-half later, Tim grew up into something unlike his younger self. Lean, storky, bouncy, constantly grinning and joking and laughing, maybe going overboard with his relationships with a wide variety of girls and sometimes breaking hearts, but otherwise he had become a good kid.

It took one night for Gary to lose everything, the life he had, and the future he was building. He died in his sleep, alone save for the smoke raking at his lungs. Afterward, he recalled and felt nothing but that deep need to live. It was so strong that he clawed himself back up from the strange all-engulfing emptiness he felt was waiting for him beyond life. From there he could do nothing but follow a compulsion to say goodbye to friends he could not remember making.

His last goodbye was at a middle school. Dying had shredded his memory, but the place was important. Something about the teachers? The conference room where all of them were meeting had gone into hysterics by the time he left, anyway. Gary was about ready to give up and cross over when he felt an urge to go to the roof. The sun was setting by then, and the view was awe-inspiring. He wasn't the only one there. Dozens of students were up on that rooftop, none of them at home with family, some eating cheap vending machine suppers, most separated into their own little cliques, and all of them watching him. Waiting for him to do something. He hadn't understood what he had done next. Maybe he'd remember eventually and finally comprehend the nature of it.

Until then, Rose had his jacket, and that meant keeping her from the cold in more senses then one. She had been sullen, yearning for the impossible, fretting over the insignificant, constantly craving the warmth her parents withheld. Gary did not understand how it happened, but he did understand that his presence was somehow helping her grow up. She became happier, friendlier, started pursuing hobbies, learned to laugh more, and that was only the start. He also didn't understand how every moment she spent growing up would change him somehow. It was satisfying and made him determined to help more, but this was something else. It was a strange feeling that was distantly familiar. He felt... stronger? Less in a sense that he felt more powerful, but that he had the capacity to do more, endure more..? It didn't matter. If he could use it to help Rose, he would. The world could be dangerous, and she was accident-prone. He would keep watch. She would live the life he couldn't have. Happiness would be something they could achieve together, and that he could live with.