The Mutillid Project (Character Journal)

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Family: Mutillidae

 

Mutillids, known by their common names "velvet ant" or "cow-killer", are solitary wasps found throughout Europe, Asia, and South America. The name "velvet ant" is derived from the colorful patches of hair on their backs and abdomens, coming in variants of red, rustic orange, and yellow. "Cow-killer" originates from their extremely painful sting, scoring a 3 on the Schmidt Pain Index (the highest score possible is a 4). Schmidt described the sting's pain as, "Instantaneous, like the surprise of being stabbed." Immature life stages of this insect parasitize the youth of others, but adults primarily primarily feed on plant nectar. Despite the parasitoid youth and obnoxious sting, velvet ants are often kept as pets in terrariums and tanks similarly to tarantulas and certain beetles. In captivity, they can live up to 2 years.

 

I was never a fanatic about velvet ants, or insects in general. While they were the subject of my studies, I was a geneticist first and foremost. Their genetic material was of far more intrigue to me than their form or morphological features. When going through the trouble of figuring out a moniker, however, the velvet ant came to mind after hours of deliberation. The persistent and nagging frustration about having some idea of the perfectly fitting name but being unable to accurately nail it was suddenly replaced with relief, enthusiasm, perhaps some mild amount of joy. It was a lightbulb moment. Velvet ants made sense. Casual observers and expert entomologists alike enjoy them for their vibrant patterns, giving them some measure of public adoration or acceptance in contrast to other wasp species. Their sting is nothing to be trifled with, however, making them a significant threat when provoked. As a side note, the name "Mutillid" also sounds somewhat like "Mutant", providing a subconscious association with what I am and how I came to be. This is the mantle I've taken up.

 

Ever since the incident, I've been slowly working towards understanding more about my current state. Not just what it means for me and how to address it going forward, but what exactly I can do with it. I want to test my capabilities and limits just to see what I'm able to do. All the while, I want these abilities to be put to use. It isn't enough that I learn something from this little research project. Someone's knowledge is defined by how they use it, and at the end of the day, I want to say that I tried to use these mutations for the benefit of society. Granted, the ways these abilities improve society are a bit limited. You can't build a utopia off venomous stingers and a reactive exoskeleton. On the other hand, if I can run off a few petty criminals and keep the street gangs out one block at a time, things might get a little easier for everyone. It would be slow and gradual, and the changes wouldn't be noticed immediately, but that doesn't mean they aren't worthwhile.

 

I've set up in an abandoned apartment just 3 streets down from where the lab used to be. The heart of King's Row, one of the worst sites of gang violence in Paragon City. Right now I walk the streets at night, clad in whatever baggy, secondhand clothing I could find that hides my likeness and helps me to blend in with the rest of the populace in spite of my appearance. I'll attempt to regularly create journal entries to note my discoveries and my progress, as well as log past and present events to help organize my thoughts and my own perception of the passage of time. I was relieved to find that my old work laptop survived the blast, and I'm making use of it to encrypt and store these journal entries. Hopefully, I can scrounge up more materials from the old lab soon.

 

 

 

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[LongHalloween]

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The Exoskeleton

 

So much of my memory that night remains a haze. The most probable explanation is that I hit my head at some point during the chaos that tore the lab apart. Another likely possibility is that whatever mix of mutagens my body was exposed to disoriented or affected my brain chemistry during the incident. Since awakening, I have not noticed any mental or neurological complications, save for a pair of exceptions that I will cover in a later entry.

 

I have no idea what happened, or what caused me to be like this. All I know is that one night, I cracked open my shell. I had become encased in a rigid, glossy-black material. Examination with the naked eye indicated to me that this casing was made of a form of chitin similar to an arthropod's exoskeleton. It had similarly begun to grow across my skin. Small patches in some places, and in others, my original, natural epidermis was hidden away by a layer of deep black shell. It would stretch out like veins to my limbs, to the front of my chest, and to my face. It disfigured me, giving me a visage none too approachable and none too human. I felt like a freak.

 

It didn't occur to me just what the stuff could do until I was placed in a situation where its function was necessary for my survival. I remember. I was huddled under a turned-over shopping cart, covering my body in a well-worn blanket to try and keep the rain at bay. A hand suddenly grasped at my neck and pulled me up onto his feet. He wore a slate gray jacket and covered his face with a skull mask. I know of the Skulls, and I made an effort to give them a wide berth during my transit to work. Now one was staring me down with a broken bottle in his hand, shaking me like a stress doll and asking me to cough up whatever I had on me.

 

I didn't have anything, of course. My wallet was (mostly) claimed by fire. Only a scorched picture of myself and an ex-girlfriend survived. The money was scorched, and my cards had melted into a shiny sludge that stuck to the interior wallet. He probably knew I didn't have a thing on me. He just wanted an excuse to beat me up.

 

Unfortunately for him (and fortunately for me), he didn't get his wish. I could feel a light pressure begin to form in my right arm. And then, I heard the tearing of fabric. I looked down, and the chitin that had covered patches of my arm had suddenly grown out, encasing my arm and forming a much longer, bulkier, and (assumedly) stronger arm. The Skull's face came alight with shock. Before he could even think of using the broken bottle, my arm shot up. I meant to shove him away, but the strength of my encased arm slung him towards the brick wall. He slammed, hard, into the masonry, and quickly picked himself up off the ground and ran away. I don't think I saw him again.

 

The exoskeleton hardens in response to physical trauma, or when danger is sensed. Weeks later, when I attempted to test my powers by intervening in a convenience store robbery, the gangbanger raised his pistol and took a few shots at me. I raised my arm, and the exoskeleton took shape. The bullets impacted with my chitin armor, but it was not pierced, nor did I suffer any internal damage from the force of the shots. An experiment with a burning oil drum, an unfortunate incident with a taser to the back, and the accidental breaking of an acid flask confirmed that my exoskeleton can resist chemical and energy-derived harm as well. I'm far from invincible, but I'm far more resistant to damage than the average human.

 

I only wonder what more there might be to it.

 

 

 

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