Disk
NAME: Finn Alexander
KNOWN ALIASES: The Disk, DJ Disk
PLACE OF BIRTH: Manchester, England
AGE: 24
OCCUPATION: Superhero, Musician
MARITAL STATUS: Dating Slidekick
AFFILIATIONS: Neon Dreams
ABILITIES:
- ENERGY CONSTRUCTS
The power to create solid constructs from hard light energy - Flight
via disk riding
Born in Manchester and raised in Hong Kong,Finn Alexander was a child of the world. Being a military brat meant no roots, no constants, just new cities and new goodbyes. He’d never admit it out loud, but the constant relocations carved a quiet ache into him. As a kid he kept to himself, avoiding friendships because he knew the clock was always ticking on them.
Everything changed when he and his mother finally settled in Paris. The city cracked him open. Sixteen hit, and the obedient, low-volume Finn evaporated. His grades slid while his nights filled with strobe lights, crowded basements, and music that made the walls sweat. In the chaos of the Parisian nightlife, he found the thing that made sense to him: DJ’ing. The first time he heard a needle scratch before a drop, it rewired something in his skull. That was it. That was the path.
And he was good—scary good. A teenage wunderkind tearing up clubs he technically wasn’t even old enough to set foot in. Word spread about the kid who could out-mix veterans twice his age. Night after night he'd be behind the booth, a handful of collegiate stoner-types and club rats with their camera phones readied, eyes agleam in anticipatory half-baked wonderment. He was something special. Something fresh. He was no longer the shy and awkward teen introvert; in those clubs during his late teenage years, he evolved. With sweat in the air and bass under his ribs, Finn became someone else entirely.
His mutation revealed itself during one frantic, overcrowded set. Stress spiked, adrenaline surged, and suddenly shimmering disks of light burst into the air around him—pure color, pure geometry, dancing like something alive. The crowd lost its collective mind, assuming it was some cutting-edge visual tech. Finn didn’t correct them. He leaned into it. Hard-light tricks became his signature, drawing crowds from every corner of the city. People came for the music but stayed for the impossible shapes he willed into existence, completely unaware the lasers weren’t coming from any rig.
Once he turned eighteen, Finn left home with nothing but his gear and a restless pulse in his chest. He toured, opened for bigger acts, followed wherever the nightlife took him, and eventually landed in the States. That’s where he stumbled into Pocket D, an interdimensional nightclub packed wall-to-wall with powered patrons, chock full of superpowers and gusto, swapping tales of past battles like old war vets. It wasn’t the music that hooked him—it was the energy. These people did things with their abilities. They didn’t hide. They didn’t pretend.
Inspired, Finn decided to try it himself. A homemade costume, a naïve confidence boost, and he was off into the streets looking for trouble. He found some immediately. It went about as poorly as you’d expect. He limped home, bruised, exhausted, and absolutely exhilarated. The rush was unreal—different from performing, but just as electric.
So he trained. Hard. Learned to shape his light not just for spectacle, but for survival. And soon enough, Finn—DJ by profession, drifter by habit—added one more title to his résumé: superhero.
Energy Constructs: Finn possesses the ability to can generate “hard-light” constructs—light that behave like solid matter. His mutation lets him convert neural energy into structured photonic fields, which is a fancy way of saying his brain can bully photons into playing LEGO. He typically shapes that energy into disks, shields, and basic weapons. The constructs are durable—strong enough to stop gunfire, disperse impacts, and give him makeshift tools—but they’re not invincible. Pushing too much mass or complexity drains him fast and risks the constructs flickering out. Range is limited to a few dozen feet from his body, and the constructs weaken the farther they are from him. Inside that range, though, he can use them for offense, defense, or mobility—platforms, stepping disks, ricocheting projectiles, the whole neon parkour catalog. The powers scale with focus, rhythm, and heartbeat. When Finn’s calm or in a flow state, the constructs stabilize beautifully. When he’s panicked or exhausted, they get jittery or translucent. Emotional noise equals visual noise. He can summon constructs rapidly, dismiss them instantly, and reshape them mid-fight as long as he’s got the concentration to spare.
Flight: By shaping a wide, concave disk of hard light beneath his feet, he can ride through the air like he’s surfing on a neon moon. The construct hums with a low vibrational thrum, responsive to even the slightest shift in his balance. It moves as fast as he can focus—darting between rooftops, carving through city skylines, and weaving around obstacles with the smooth precision of a practiced boarder. The disk leaves a faint luminous trail that twists in the air before fading, a signature streak across the night sky.