Erik N'Jadaka Stevens.
Top student in his graduating class at the Naval Academy. The youngest graduate to do so.
Erik excels at M.I.T. studying bioacoustics and sonic warfare. Hounded by Tony Stark to become his protege in Malibu, Erik sets out to f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"We live from the head down and not the feet up And I'm adorned with the crown that's making this up And I'm fine under cloud 9
Yes I wear the lamb's wool, the feet of burned brass And the wool defies gravity like the nature of a gas And I'm fine under cloud 9
Twist my cloud and it rains And when it rains it pours And the energy will absorb Power for the metaphysical one..."
Donnie – "Cloud 9"
Erik twisted his neck to pop the kinks out of the tension he held there. He rotated his wrists and shook out the jitters in his ankles and feet. Stretching his legs, he tried to focus his mind on his speed. His mother, Califia, had been swift with her hands and feet and he was fortunate to inherit her skills in that department. His father had been strong and strategic with ulwa and that gift enabled Erik to adapt it to capoeira.
The gymnasium was nearly full by the time he had his body conditioned the way he felt comfortable. Steady workouts with his naval training kept him on point. A few old head mestres eyed him from various corners of the room. His loose white abada pants had the colors of his Uncle Besouro's martial arts school name down one leg in bright yellow lettering. He decided to fight in a white tank top and strolled around the space barefoot with his current purple and green cord dangling against his thigh. His next level was to become an instructor and he would switch out his old cord for a solid purple one. There was chatter on the floor about his style of fighting. He mixed regional and Angola styles and Besouro praised him for ushering in a new contemporary style of fighting. Erik was aggressive with his moves, but he was also called elegant. Many traditionalists held onto the old ways, but like anything in the world, styles changed. The young brought in the new.
