"Oooff!" Steven felt a couple of his ribs crack as he was thrown back against the wall. He let himself slump down, holding his side with his left hand. He knew his opponent would gloat for a few seconds, and that would be enough time for him to heal himself. The bones knitted at his touch, and he felt the cold feather-touch of paradox... He was pushing the coincidence, but didn't really care. He was going to have to be real vulgar to get out of this alive.

His life started quitely enough... well, maybe not quiet, but it was certainly dark. Steven never knew what his parents looked like, as he was born blind. Life wasn't easy growing up in the Rubble of a mostly destroyed society, but his family was better off than many. Most of the time he had something to eat, and he sometimes was the one who brought home dinner, after an extremely lucky game of "catch the rat". Rat wasn't his favorite food, (cheeseburgers were) but it kept him from starving.

Steven slowly stood up, his unsteadiness not entirely feigned. His eyes glowed blue as he gazed levelly at the woman who was his enemy. She gave an amused grin as he rose, seeming glad that he was coming back to take more of a beating... One thing was certain, Steven could take a lot of damage. 'But I can give it out just as well,' he thought. He raised his hands suddenly, and grasped hold of her quintessential pattern, and thrummed it. She screamed in pain and frustration as her very existence faded in and out of reality. Steven then pointed with his right hand at a nearby lamp post. The galvanized steel bolts holding it to the ground rusted instantly, and the post fell on his enemy, catching her as she happened to be within reality, and not out of it. She screamed again as she was knocked down from the blow that would kill most mortals.

When Steven was ten, he was orphaned for the first time. His parents went off one night, leaving him in their shack, and never returned. He spend weeks looking for them, and gradually became ill from lack of food. He collapsed in front of the store of an old man in Little Korea. The old man brought the sightless boy in, and nursed him back to health. Steven came to grips with the harsh reality that his parents were gone forever. It was the first time he had been touched by death, but it was by far not the last.

Steven winced as he felt the sting of Paradox's talons sinking into him... he would pay dearly for this later, if he survived. A growl came from the pile of debris his foe lay in. He reached forward with his hand, and grasped hold of the quintessence filling her. He furrowed his brow in concentration and yanked the blood that sat in her body like stored tass, stealing it right from her body. Another scream came from her, and Steven allowed himself a smile. The blood he stole would mean there would be less for her to use to heal herself, or fuel her own abilities. Damn vampires needed the stuff, and without it they were still deadly, but not quite as dangerous as when they were filled with it. He dispersed the quintessence into the world around him, not wanting to be corrupted by it... He needed fuel for his own magick, but not nearly as desperately.

Steven looked to the Old Man (that was the only thing he ever called his savior) as a new father. He grew up working in the Korean curio shoppe, keeping inventory. His photographic memory and strong calculating skills helped the old man better than any ledger books. It also let Steven learn a new language quickly, and he was soon fluent in Korean. Nothing lasts forever, though, and the old man told Steven that he was dying. He had accepted death, having lived a long, full life, but Steven wasn't ready to once again lose his only family. He cried, and pleaded with the Korean to let him go get a doctor, but the old man refused. One day he peacefully closed his eyes, and died. Steven was an orphan again.

The vampire burst out of the rubble, snarling in uncontrolled rage. She slashed at Steven with her claws, and bit for his throat with her teeth. It was all he could do to fend her off, backpedalling. He stumbled over the strewn pieces of buildings, and broken cars, barely keeping his feet. He realized that he was going to have to try something desperate, if he was going to live to see the sun rise.

Steven was 16, and all alone. He wandered the streets around Los Angeles Harbor, sleeping in cardboard boxes. Sometimes he found some bits of money other people had dropped, other times he was fortunate enough to have someone give him a small gift of their pocket change. He was surviving, though, albeit barely. One day a girl a little bit younger than him took pity on him, and helped him. They had trouble communicating though, as she was mute, and he was blind, completely unable to see her sign-language. They developed a system, though by her tapping his shoulder, of communicating simple ideas, and a deep friendship was forged... She was the one who discovered his inner power, that he was Mage.

Steven reached back, and closed his right fist tightly. Quickly gathering his magickal energy, he forced his life pattern to change, growing an ugly, jagged spike of bone from his knuckles. He charged it with quintessence to rend the vampire's pattern deeply, and used his near-mastery of entropy to find the weakest point in her guard as she thrashed toward him. With a shout he thrust his fist forward, and buried the spike into her forehead, stopping her charge cold. For an eternal moment they stood there frozen in place, then the vampire slumped to the ground, seemingly dead for good, blood oozing from the rough hole in her head. Steven shuddered, as the spike of bone fell of his hand, and paradox overwhelmed him, then seeming to explode from his body, leaving painful burns. Steven collapsed to his knees, knowing that only time would heal those wounds.

After his realization, Steven rapidly grew in power, learning all he could, as fast as he could. He was given sight, lost it again, then as his power blossomed even more, gained it back. He was introduced to other mages, and found out that they considered him an Orphan: a mage without a tradition. Hating that term, Steven adopted another name for what he was, and answered to no other title: Wildcard. He found love, married a wild Verbena maiden who called herself Ree, and not long after, his son was born, Steven Alan Locke, the Fourth.

Steven wearily got to his feet, and stumbled toward his home. He hissed through his teeth at the pain each step brought him, but was driven by the thought of lying in bed, his wife gently holding him. Soon, he was out of sight.