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       #Post#: 20517--------------------------------------------------
       New Orleans WIP: Cory Bauman
       By: Raven Tepes Date: December 11, 2025, 9:30 pm
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       “There’s a moment, right before I twist the sky, when the whole
       world holds its breath for me. The air feels like a loyal beast
       waiting for a command. I don’t boast about it; power that loud
       doesn’t need shouting. But I’ll tell you this: when the storms
       answer your call, every politician pretending to steer the world
       looks real small. I’m just a laid-back guy with a breeze in his
       pocket, but when things get ugly, I can remind the horizon who
       actually moves it.”
       ~ Cory Bauman
       “Some days I look at society and wonder if the whole planet
       caught a fever it’s too stubborn to sweat out. Everyone
       screaming, nobody thinking, all of them convinced their tiny
       storms matter. Me? I’d rather tear open the sky and let the wind
       scrub this place clean. People call me chaotic, but compared to
       the circus they’ve built, I’m practically a public service. The
       world’s gone mad, and I’m just the weather report.”
       ~ Cory Bauman
       “Riding’s the only time the world quits yelling long enough for
       me to hear my own pulse. The engine growls under me, the wind
       claws at my jacket, and for a few blessed miles I get to outrun
       the planet’s nonsense. Out there on the asphalt river, I’m not a
       weapon or a warning. I’m just a streak of thunder on two wheels,
       carving my own weather.”
       ~ Cory Bauman
       “Facing Cory Bauman felt like picking a fight with the
       atmosphere itself. He didn’t swing fists so much as let the sky
       do the punching. One second he was standing there with that lazy
       smirk, like he was bored of existing; the next, the air snapped
       around me hard enough to bruise bone. I tried to run, but he
       folded the wind into a cage and shoved me through it. Fighting
       him isn’t combat. It’s surviving a natural disaster that happens
       to laugh at you while it hits.”
       The alley shuddered as something huge slammed through a brick
       wall, dust billowing like a wounded beast.
       Devon: Cory, this guy hits like a runaway planet! Little help?
       Cory: Relax, hotshot. If he punches any harder, he’ll knock the
       taxes out of the air. Stand clear. A pressure drop rippled
       outward as Cory lifted his hand. The air went thin, sharp,
       predatory. Their opponent roared and charged.
       Devon: “He’s coming through! I’m lighting him up! Devon flared,
       a vortex of elemental force swirling around his arms. Sparks
       danced like impatient spirits.
       Cory: Yeah, yeah, throw your fireworks. I’ll herd him. Cory
       twisted his wrist, and the wind curled around their attacker,
       corralling the brute into a spiraling funnel. Debris lifted.
       Street signs groaned. The world leaned.
       Opponent: You think this scares me?!
       Cory: Not yet. But give it a second.
       Devon slammed both palms forward, sending a blast of elemental
       fire and kinetic shock that detonated inside Cory’s whirlwind.
       The blast ricocheted through the funnel like a furious comet.
       Their enemy staggered, skin cr@cked, breath ragged.
       Devon: He’s still standing. Why is he still standing?
       Cory: Because the universe hates us. Hold him steady. Cory
       planted his boots, eyes narrowing. The air tightened around
       them, vibrating like a held scream. The clouds above twisted,
       spiraling into a sudden, unnatural formation.
       Devon: Cory… you’re calling the sky again, aren’t you?
       Cory: If the sky didn’t want to fight, it shouldn’t follow me
       everywhere. A spear of compressed air dropped from the heavens,
       slamming their opponent to his knees with the weight of a
       falling world.
       Opponent: You… monsters…
       Devon: Cory, finish it!
       Cory inhaled, let the air swirl through his fingers, then
       flicked them casually. Cory: Down. The wind collapsed inward,
       flattening their foe like a hammer made of atmosphere. Silence
       rolled over the alley.
       Devon: You know, one day you’re going to level a whole city
       doing that.
       Cory: If the city behaves, it’ll live. Same rules as everyone
       else.
       A crooked smile tugged at his mouth as the breeze settled around
       them like an obedient pack. Devon: Let’s get out of here before
       someone mistakes us for the bad guys.
       Cory: Dev, we literally are the bad guys.
       Devon: Fair. Drinks?
       Cory: You’re buying. I just spent a weather system.
       Name: Cory Bauman
       Nicknames: Hurricane
       Age: 27 years old
       Species: Homo Superior (Metahuman/mutant)
       Gender: Male
       Height: 6'2"
       Weight: 189 lbs
       Organization: The Elementalist Motorcycle Club
       ~ Rank: Vice President
       Family:
       ~ Father: David Bauman (Deceased - Killed in combat)
       ~ Mother: Tabitha Bauman (Alive - Living in Seattle)
       ~ Siblings: None/Only Child
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