Chad's roleplay application

-byond key: The_Onion_Man
-IGN: Chad
-Discord: Ninga6b
-Race: Human
-Why do you want  this race/rank/tech/item:
I want to roleplay as a human tech user.

-How do you think you can improve RP with this race/rank/tech/item
I think I could create an interesting anti-hero or potential villain by going full mad scientist.

-Do you agree not to use this  for OOC purposes?
Yes, I consent.

-How experienced are you in roleplaying?
A few years.

-Do you have any outside activities such as school/work that stops you from being on during times of the day
Nothing for this role I believe, but I do have classwork.

-Now I would like you to write me a roleplay involving the use or life of the race/rank/tech/item, it must be at least one paragraph of ten sentences. This roleplay will be IC and used on your character that you have already. If it does not fit your current character in anyway, then perhaps try to RP more until it does.

They had mocked him.  Chad knew they were still laughing at him, even though he hadn't returned for years.  That horrid place.  Satan's Gym.  He had worked on his muscles everyday for as long as he could possible remember, taking every vitamin, reading every brochure he could on how to enhance his performance all naturally.  He suffered through the constant protein, through the powdered shakes, he even suffered what the creatine did to his insides.  He thought he was the top of that gym.  Until he witnessed what real strength was.

He was on his way home from a workout, when he saw the two figures in a neighboring field.  They looked like statues, cut in the most marvelous of ways.  But when they moved, he couldn't even keep up with it, he thought they had simply disappeared before the resounding shockwave from the displaced hair knocked him flat on his backside.  It took what seemed like an eternity for his mind to conclude that they hadn't disappeared, they were moving so fast his normal eyes couldn't keep track on them.  He thought it was magic, he'd seen the celebrities on television causing disappearing acts, but every so often he could make out the tension behind their muscles, like miniature steel tension wires braided a billion times.  This was their own strength, their own bodies.  All he could do was lay on his backside, covered in the dirt and grime that their battle had kicked up, his mouth hanging open.  And then they stopped fighting, floating motionless in the air, pointing at him.  Then the laughing started.

He trained his body for years, not to be ridiculed, but to be awed!  He was perfect!  He threw himself up and ran away crying, their laughing sounding like it was following him to his very core.  He ran as hard as he could, but it followed.  He nearly broke the door down to his home, but the laughing still remained.  He ran to his bathroom, knocking over his jugs of meal supplement and creatine to the floor, and yet the laughing didn't stop.  It only stopped when he looked at his tear stricken face in the mirror, the dust cleaned in streaks from the wet that came from his eyes.  He gazed down at what those years in the gym had gotten him, these finely tuned useless muscles, those years of eating and filling his body with whatever could hone them.  They had gotten him a tear struck face of an embarrassed child. It was then he knew one thing.  He would never suffer the laughter of those with those inhuman bodies again, and he would cause the gains where the only place it truly mattered.

His mind.