The Shift, Donatello Temple

The Runner

Nolites were a once powerful race known for their extreme strength, resilience to damage, ferocity in combat, but most famously, their abilities.
While each one had abilities different from the next, the most common power among them, was Electrokinesis.
This ability allowed them to not only steal energy from sources such as fire and kinetic attacks but also to generate their own power, often using it to their ability to their advantage in combat.
Not to be overlooked was their legendary weapons.
The Nolite Staff Of A Thousand Blades.
Each one of these extraordinary staffs was bonded to a Nolite host, and each one carried their legacy, to be passed down from warrior to warrior.
Said to be able to take any form the user desired, the Nolite Staff Of A Thousand Blades was a powerful tool for this race.
As long as they were not killed, the Nolites would continue living.
However, although thought to be immortal by the rest of the Empowered across the universe, they were Hunted by more powerful beings, until they went into hiding.
Today, their existence and history is just an afterthought.
But some of them still live.
Even if they don't yet know themselves.

The Adrenaline Project.

Anchorage, Alaska
Present day...
"Subject in sight."
One man sits at a diner.
He came here for peace.
His name is Donatello Temple.
He's been on the run for months.
Zachary Larson, a technological giant in the industry of biochemistry, bio-energy, and gene-splicing, has been after this young man.
However, Donatello has proven to be an elusive and sometimes deadly prey in this game of hide and seek.
Mikel Keepers, is the head of a secret government organization.
The SCO (Supernatural Cooperation Operatives) are a group of people dedicated to the detection, surveillance, and if necessary, termination, of any and all 'anomalies' found on our planet.
They too, have been after young Mr.Temple.
He is a Nolite.
He knows, and chooses to keep his heritage a secret.
To him, he just has powers.
Powers that everyone else wants.
So he runs.
"Do we move in?"
"Negative. Civilians inside. No witnesses."
Today is his last day of freedom.
Both teams want him.
Locked in a game of tug-O'war, they will fight over him.
He finishes his coffee, pays his tab, and steps out into the frigid air.
Being from Texas, he loves the cold.
It's a nice change of pace from the blistering heat commonly found on the Gulf of Mexico.
The pine trees and the forest surrounding the city remind him of nature.
He wears a bright red flannel, and a blue Levi jacket.
A small western hat covers his head as he wears the jacket collar up to better conceal his face.
Scruff grows on his cheeks and chin, along with his upper lip.
He's learned to change it up, to blend in.
This time he's playing the part of a lumberjack.
He dressed the part, but his tan complexion is a giveaway that he's not from around here.
The locals can pick him out of a crowd.
Despite that, he tries.
Of all the places he's had to lay low, this is his favorite.
"Eyes up, the alleyway on Clips and Ross. Units 1 and 3 move to intercept."
He works a 9 to 5 job.
It's fairly simple, cut the trees that grow too close to electrical power lines.
He's pretty good at it.
Being a Nolite, his body is able to conduct and insulate electricity, preventing him from taking damage.
He can redirect energy flows to strike somewhere else if he desires.
Or he can store that energy and disperse it at his leaser.
If he desires, he can pull energy from nearly any source.
Little things like turning off light switches or turning off circuit breakers.
These are the small abilities he has learned and adapted into his everyday life.
"I'm in position. On your mark."
He walks calmly down the street, passing buildings and trees without incident.
Since he's lived here he's tried to keep to himself.
Someone looks at him from across the street.
He pulls the hat down over his head and continues his walk.
There are a few people who can't help but notice him.
His bones are much stronger then the average human.
Due to this and his increased agility and strength, when he stopped a coworker from being crushed by a fallen timber, everyone noticed.
It was relatively small compared to others.
800 pounds.
Still, everyone noticed.
"Unit 1, go for interference."
They just couldn't keep their mouths shut.
"3, stay at the pinch point. Unit 2, move in on my mark."
He keeps walking.
He's already made them.
The man on his far left across the street.
He spotted him a few minutes ago, peeking at him and trying to hear his earpiece over the brisk Alaskan wind.
There's one behind him, about 50 feet.
He can hear his footsteps, he's fluctuating in speed trying to keep close while staying at a distance where firearms would have an effective range.
Donnie keeps walking.
He won't tip them off that he knows.
Until he comes up with a better plan that is.
Or they make their move.
"Mark."
He passes each alleyway knowing at one of them, someone will be waiting.
They don't expect him to stop, which is why he does.
Just before passing the last gap between buildings, he stops and leans against the wall.
He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Hold your fire. Everyone into position."
The man behind him continues growing closer with each step.
They've watched him for weeks.
He's never stopped here before.
This wasn't the plan.
"Wanna know why I chose Alaska?"
His voice is calm, and remarkably steady for 30 degrees.
The man walks closer.
"Because it's cold."
The man looks up.
"Things hurt more."
He has a plan.
The man in the alley, he strikes first.
His baton glides right over Donnie's head.
An elbow connects with his lower jaw.
Unit 2 pulls his gun.
Donnie is too fast.
Before the man even gets a shot off, Donnie has his hands on him.
Being a Nolite, Donnie has been pulling energy from every single street light ever since he saw his first stalker.
The man screams as volts if electricity course through him, before he falls to the ground unconscious.
He turns just as unit 3 takes another swing with his baton, this time aimed at the ribs.
Donnie brings his knee up to his elbow.
His shield of bone and muscle blocks the blow.
He counters with a kick to the chest that sends the man flying into the alleyway.
He hits the wall before hitting the ground.
He's okay.
They usually wear body armor.
They've learned.
A fist lands square between his shoulders.
He falls to the floor.
The man across the street.
He forgot about Unit 1.
He gets back up and takes a swing.
Their hands make a loud clash as a fist is caught in a hand.
Donnie grunts as he struggles for the first time against another man.
In his 22 years of life, no one has ever rivaled his strength.
Yet here he finds himself against someone who has strength equal to, perhaps even greater then his own.
Unit 1 pulls Donnie's fist into the air, and delivers a savage punch across the jaw, knocking him unconscious.
"This is Captain Rone. Get the containment unit ready. We got him."