Security Level: 0
Online Name: Red Prophet
Country of Origin:
Origin of Powers: Technology
Ore had made a march acrossed Poland, and left behind him a trail of unimaginable destruction. Vassili could imagine the look on his grandfather's face that day, he spent many a morning imagining how it must have been, the mist rolling off the hills, the wind sweeping his face, an arena fit for a legend. Something suitable. Piotr was very much a legend, his portaits hung in the household in nearly every hall. He was a tall looming man, with quiet, peaceful eyes. They filled him with calm. Piotr took it upon himself to don the Red Prophet, and set out to meet Ore face to face. What followed was one of the most epic battles in Russian history. One that to this day remains hidden in the classified folders of a fallen empire. One that may never be truly realized. Those who were there that day still remember the roar of the fire-swept wind and the echoes of scorching blasts. Steaming, Ore finally fell to the ground, its joints red with heat, and its pilot hopelessly annihilated. And Piotr, lay back against the rubble, with his eyes skyward. His heart gave out, the shock of the final blow was too much for him to bear. The legend of the Red Prophet stills lives on in certain towns and villages along the border, and though they now lie stretched and inaccurate, the spirit in which they are told lives on, the heroism of Piotr Ivanov, who saved Mother Russia from the Nazi juggernaught, Ore.
Vassili had learned greatly the meaning of sacrifice, and did his best to follow Piotr's footsteps. He spent years trying to perfect the essence of his grandfather's work. With a horde of blueprints and schematics to work from, the time spent at university went quick. He had it in his heart to bring the people something which they could rally behind. What better than the symbol of the Red Prophet? He could still remember the feeling of pride he experience when he looked upon his own inspired creation. He had recreated his grandfather's cowl, with an elegant crown, a regal halo in respect to the fallen hero. A slender, more capable model, he anticipated less damage resistance, but an overall higher energy output. What resulted was a highly volatile cybernetic device, capable of amplifying his every move, strength, speed, and endurance. Just looking on it gave him a sense of hope for the future, a sense of accomplishment far surpassing what he had hoped to acheive in his short lifetime. He had resurrected a God - One that would be needed sooner than expected.
Now, Vassili's father, Sergei, was involved in the KGB, and responsible for much of the reconnaissance the Soviet Union now possesed on their American neighbors. This information was highly valued by more than just Mother Russia. On a mission in Puerto Rico, Sergei was captured by a group of Fifth Column Raserei Elites. Word returned to Moscow of Sergei's dissapearance, and something within Vassili told him to fear for the worst. Tipping a glass of vodka, he stepped into the bright white light under his gleaming champion. The Red Prophet was reborn. Easily breaking into the KGB's file library, he soon discovered the details of his father's abduction. It was almost no time at all before the Red Prophet made his new appearance to the world. He was last seen walking from the smoldering ash of an abandoned warehouse. Inside, they would find the charred remains of many a Fifth Column soldiers, and one Sergei Ivanov, draped in the flag of the Soviet Union...
The Red Prophet has recently appeared in Paragon City, the United States calling to him as of late. He sought out the comrades his grandfather once called friends. Hopefully then, he could fulfill the true purpose of his grandfather's creation.