Khan on - Khan

54 years old

United Kingdom

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August 04 2021

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Khan Noonien Singh
Revenge is a dish best served cold

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Khan has been designed to have superior strength, agility and thinking capabilities. He is faster than an average human. When awoken in the future, he was able to study and process his new environment rapidly. He is also able to heal far quicker and is immune to most diseases and toxins that would incapacitate others. He is well trained in combat and is also incredibly resourceful.


With superior genetics comes superior ambitions, and Khan is no exception. From an early age he was told he was to rule the world along with his brothers and sisters. Khan is arrogant, egotistical and prone to megalomania. He is ruthless, cold and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

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     Khan's Details
Here for:Dating, Relationships,
Body type:Athletic
Occupation:World Leader
Characters: Khan, Khan Noonien Singh
Verses: Star trek, TOS, Star Wars, crossover,
Playbys: Benedict Cumberbatch
Length: Multi Para, Para
Genre: Action, Crossover, Fantasy, Gore, Heroes/Villains, Science Fiction,
Status: Single
Member Since:July 20, 2021

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   Khan's Blurbs
About me:
--------------------------------ABOUT ME------------------------------------- .vicarious{Second Hide Blurbs Code}
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Born in 1970 to surrogate mother Sarina Kaur, Khan Noonien Singh was the first of the children created by the Chrysalis Project – trials of genetic engineering to create superior human Augments. Superior humans bred superior ambition and this was certainly the case with Khan and his kin. By the early 1990’s the Augments had control of most of the world. By 1993, they had began fighting amongst themselves. By 1996, Khan and Eighty Four of his followers stole the SS Botany Bay and fled the planet they had been born to rule.

Present Day


The SS Botany Bay was discovered by The Enterprise in 2267. After awakening Khan and his people, Captain Kirk and his crew provided hospitality. Khan tried to take the ship, which failed and as a consequence, he and his people, were exiled onto Ceti Alpha V – a lush planet in which they could start a new life.

Six months into their exile, Ceti Alpha VI exploded, shifting the orbit of their home, rendering it a barren wasteland. They survived, barely. Many years later, Khan was able to escape his prison when Chekov and Tyrell mistakenly arrived on Ceti Alpha V. Khan and his people stole the USS Reliant and went on a murderous rampage to take revenge on Captain Kirk, whom Khan blamed for the death of his wife Marla.


The SS Botany Bay was discovered by a paranoid Admiral Marcus. Khan was thawed out, his appearance altered beyond recognition, and he was used to develop weapons for the Federation. Admiral Marcus used Khan’s people as leverage to control him in the beginning, however this was not to last. In a long, drawn out plan Khan was able to manipulate his way into killing Admiral Marcus. Captain Kirk and crew intervened before he was able to escape with his family however and he was returned to cryogenic suspension and stored within Federation Buildings.


NAME: Khan Noonien Singh
DATE OF BIRTH: 15 August 1970
HEIGHT: 6 foot
WEIGHT: 220lb
PARENTS: Sarina Kaur – surrogate mother
SIBLINGS: Kati, Ling, McPhersonJoachim, Joachin, Otto, Rodriguez
OCCUPATION: World Leader/weapons engineer
LIKES: Coffee, donuts, reading classic literature
DISLIKES: Rain, being questioned.


Khan is cold, calculating, and brilliant. He poses a threat to Starfleet not just because of his strong combat abilities, but also because of his brilliant tactical mind. He always seems to be two steps ahead of his enemies, engineering alliances in which he can turn the tables to get what he really wants. Singularly focused, Khan almost seems more like a machine than a man. However, he is capable of showing deeper, kinder emotion as can be seen with his attitude towards those he considers family: his genetically engineered siblings, and in the prime universe, his wife Marla.

Main Connection Name Here

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Jul 28th 2021 - 12:44 AM

The Soldier’s existence is a complex one, decades old. It was the Soviets who found him, half frozen at the bottom of a gorge -dashed against the rocks. If not the fall, the hypothermia should have quickly taken him in the Arctic cold. But it was the cold that kept him alive against the odds, keeping just enough of that life-giving crimson from spilling into the snow that he’d held on long enough to be found. He was a stubborn one from the start.

It was the discovery of the future Soldier that lead to HYDRA finally sinking their claws into the Soviet forces. A mole with an exciting report, a German scientist in the right place at the right time, a General whose curiosity piqued at the idea of their very own supersoldier. It was an arduous process, but a successful one in the end. The Soviets had their Soldier, and a seemingly slow-budding relationship with HYDRA, until they were one and the same. Until the Soldier was being sent out across the globe, a ghost story, a shadow slowly being shorn away from its source and into the many-headed fold. The American branch always had a particular interest, always a political use.

They’re brutes, the Americans, with little care for the proper maintenance of their borrowed Asset, even to this day. Especially these days. It can take days, weeks, even months to repair the cracks they leave in his conditioning. They value his obedience far above his loyalty, to the point of mishandling and neglect. They spare no thought to how the two are connected, intertwined into a single outlook for his Soldier. As long as the mission is completed, nothing more matters. As is the HYDRA way. The Colonel shudders to think what will become of the poor creature when he’s gone.

 It’s only a matter of time before they run him out completely, or worse. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, his usefulness to HYDRA is waning every day, his connection to power shattered. Having such a heavy hand in the Winter Soldier program is the only reason he’s still here, he isn’t blind to that fact -and even that is on hold for the time being, the program diminished to the protection of its base product.

It’s only a matter of time.

The Colonel listens to the intruder’s demand, nodding to himself. They are indeed here for the Soldier. The Asset. HYDRA’s word for him. His grandfather never would have stood for it. He gives no response. Not yet. Instead, he reaches for the handheld. “Приготовь Солдата и отправь его ко мне. Ему не разрешено противостоять злоумышленникам.” Ready the Soldier and send him to me. He is not to confront the intruders.

Cautious affirmations come through the line and he leans back in his chair, watching the screens once more.

There’s only silence beyond the faint electronic buzzing permeating the office, but the air shifts, ever so slightly. The Colonel barely acknowledges it, eyes glued to the blood bath coming to an end on the monitor in front of him. Those men never stood a chance. Though brief in actuality, the scene seemed to stretch for an eternity. Fighting may be best reserved as a last resort. The silence behind him quakes slightly, cold rolling over his shoulder, an ugly, grinding clicking noise starting from the source. A small ping, a metal plate being pushed back into place, and the clicking stops.

A sigh falls from his lips, making a note to reprimand any who survive this ordeal. He doesn’t need to turn around to know his Soldier is standing there, still half-frozen, obediently awaiting his orders. They brought him out too quickly. It should have taken thirty minutes or more, Karpov had planned on stalling. But no, barely the fifteen minute mark and the Soldier is at his side.

Finally, he tears his eyes away as the duo disappear into the elevator, taking in the sight before him. They’ve hastily dressed him in his field gear. Small, sharp breaths can be heard from behind the mask, the muzzle that hides the lower half of his face; as if the need to remain silent is overriding his lungs’ need to breathe deeply, his body still trying to acclimate. Thin fractals of ice are still visible at the tips of his metal fingers, spiraling up the hand and wrist, fading away further up the arm. The Colonel clicks his tongue in disappointment -pressing situation or no, this is not how they operate. The hair is still damp, skin pale and there, around his left eye and temple, disappearing down his cheek into the mask is that tell-tale burn, bruises that mark the activation of the Crown, run too hot and too quick. He’ll have their heads. Damn them. He’ll heal, of course. Within the hour. But the damage could have been much worse. Fatal, even.

“Не двигайся.” Be still. “Дышать.” Breathe. The Soldier does and he allows the coughing fit that follows without comment. He steadily recovers and goes silent once more, save for the brief shuffling of metal plates, the arm running a nervous recalibration. It’s a quirk that nearly fifty years of conditioning hasn’t managed to quash -but it’s harmless. The Soldier himself doesn’t seem to be aware of why it happens, emotions so divided from conscious thought. “Это не наказание.” This is not a punishment.

It’s important, very important to be clear. Be heavy with the stick, sparse with the carrot, but always make sure he knows the exact reason behind each. Eventually, even through the application of the Crown, the lessons will stick. Though the Soldier’s stance remains unchanged, there’s a certain air of calm that overtakes him. A subtle shift that most would fail to notice.

“Желание.” Longing. The Soldier remains still. Doesn’t shudder as a new fog filters into his head. The words aren’t a punishment. Not this time. This time they are a safeguard to make sure control can’t be taken, not easily at least. Because they have the book, have the words. He continues, each of the ten words locking the Soldier to even his smallest demands -not that he would have disobeyed.

The words, at this point, are meant to be a fail-safe, rather than the main method of control they were back in the beginning. The Soldier is perfectly capable of completing his missions and returning to his handler of his own accord these days -given that his mind’s been properly maintained. Though they may often be used still at the beginning of the more delicate operations. They are useful for seamless transition between handlers, for changes in core protocols and, most importantly, in keeping him docile during those times when wires cross, when the confusion takes hold and reprimands are needed. When he starts to remember.

If anyone bothered to read the book beyond the control commands, they’d know. But more and more, corners are being cut when his Soldier is lent out to other tendrils of the organization, control taking precedence over protocol. It’ll be their undoing, in the end. He’s sure of it. Even a perfect attack dog snaps under the wrong pressures. They’ll break an imperfect machine, break his Soldier beyond repair, and they’ll pay with their lives. And then, when he’s finished with them, he’ll come for Karpov. He knows this. His end lies with his Soldier.

However, there are more pressing matters to deal with for the time being. The duo exits the elevators, stalking slowly through the dim corridor. The Colonel reaches out, pressing the intercom again. “Enough. You’ve made your point.” There’s no pleading in his voice, not even really a warning. The tone is even, cold -if a bit exasperated. “The door at the end of the hall is where you’ll find The Asset’s chamber. However, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, it’s heavily guarded.” There’s a method to his madness, of course. In revealing his own trap. “Or, we can spare further bloodshed. You are not the first to come seeking use of my Soldier, or the first to try and take him by force. I’m offering a diplomatic solution. This does not need to be a fight. You can find me in the north-west corner of the first floor, come speak with me. Or continue on. The choice is yours.”

The intercom is released and the Colonel stands, moving away from his desk, the Soldier taking half a step back to allow him room. He gathers three tumblers and a bottle of whiskey -while not a great host, especially to those who openly murder his men, he isn’t a savage. He instructs the Soldier back against the wall behind his desk - still within arm’s reach but out of the way. A dangerous showpiece for their guests, should they choose to come. He doesn’t expect them to take his offer at face value, they aren’t fools. Even at rest, the Soldier’s an imposing figure, would be to most. The orders are short, and strict- Watch. Protect, but do not attack first. Do not move or speak unless instructed. The following show of silence is testament to his understanding. He settles back into his seat, eyes back on the monitors. Waiting.
Vanessa Halliwell badass hybrid

Jul 27th 2021 - 11:25 AM

Vanessa felt herself go weak right away she did her very best to hold on to the weapon when she held it pointing at the man who she found to be trying to help her.Did he know her no he could not especially if the young man was asking her who she was.But how could she answer him if she truly did not know the answer herself.She had noticed the young woman with her back turned back at the medibay and had disappeared on her when noticed her back turned.She could feel her legs become almost like jello she couldnt control herself.
Maybe he really was not a threat to her and her well being if he had wanted to she could tell he would had attacked her by now."Your truly right sir I do not feel all to well but I do not even know where I am or who I am my name sounds so very foreign like its on the tip of my tongue but it doesnt want to come out."
She told him as she passed him the weapon that was in her hand and grabbing his other hand to hold herself up.She felt even more panic when he said ship it was like she could remember things like ship and numbers and words but not her name or who or how she got to that ship.Who had decided to leave her there alone did no one care for her wellbeing."I remember two year dates but its like flashing in my head um 2021 and 2265.It hurts my head when they appear in my head as flashes.As if my brain does not wish for me to suddenly remember."She told him as she was scared believing she was still on earth not on some ship searching for a planet.How could she live there did everyone she knew was gone.What even was her job postion on the ship she had found herself on
.It had to be an important one that they would just leave her alone in a medibay for god knew how long.She started coughing as if no air was even getting into her legs.Her eyes were burning even as she could feel herself getting weaker by every step she took.Could she find this ship her new home with this stranger who suddenly she felt knew a whole lot more than she did at the moment.Vanessa just wanted someone to help her and care for wellbeing.She could not hold on to his hand anymore as they had been halfway back to the medibay when her legs suddenly gave out underneath her.And her desire for food and water was worse as she passed out cold in front of him.
Vanessa Halliwell badass hybrid

Jul 26th 2021 - 8:01 AM

Vanessa had suddenly woken up looking around hearing machines beeping as she squinted to prevent the bright lights hitting her sore eyes.She sat up looking around where was she she thought looking up at the weird screen that seemed to appear to be a machine that tracked her vitals.Looking down the bed felt more as if it had been a weird tanning bed.How long had she been asleep in all honesty she could not even remember who she was or where.She could feel vibrations under her feet as if she was on some airplane.

But she didnt remember how she got on and this place did not look like one where were the seats.It looked like a small hospital within a mall or airplane.She still felt afraid there had to be someone who could tell her who she was or where.She walked down trying to find her way out of the medical bay her legs woobly as she held on to the walls.She found the exit and could have sworn she heard foot steps.Vanessa started getting flashes in her head of herself getting sick with someone watching over her.She felt weak her head burning as she tried to remember but couldnt.She felt so thirsty as if she had not drank anything in years.

She continued and grabbed what looked to be a gun it seemed like a funny looking price gun.She pulled it off the wall from its container case and held it to her.Vanessa decided to hold it just in case she needed to protect herself if she had been kidnapped.Looking up she noticed a tall dark man walking towards her the man looked like he was very full of himself.She now hoped this weird looking thing worked she hoped it would hurt whoever was coming or use it as a warning against them.Was he the captain of the ship she thought as she aimed it at him"State your name rank and intention."She found herself suddenly saying to him as if it was something she had always been saying for years now.She got another flash seeing herself in a training facility shooting the gun causing her to get another migrane.Whoever she was she just wanted to go home where home was she had no idea either did anyone even miss her or was she all alone now.

Jul 24th 2021 - 2:15 AM

Mission Report – December, 1991

Mission Status: Successful
                Target and witness eliminated; package secured

Additional Notes:
                While successful, the Asset allowed the executions, and himself, to be captured on a nearby closed surveillance system. The camera was destroyed on site and the footage later recovered. Such carelessness is not typical on assignment and his actions suggest prior knowledge of the camera’s location. This, along with his post-mission agitation, may be indicative of stress connected to the identity of the target. Additional conditioning and reprogramming suggested to avoid future complications.


…Sergeant Barnes?

Blue eyes snap open, wide. Wild. The name bounces through the fog, battering his skull and threatening to slip away again. No. No no no. Hands are on him. Pushing. Pulling. Hurting. Dragging him along on stumbling feet. A name. A name. His name? No. But a name. Important. Hold onto it. The man. His target. He knew him? Bloodied. Dying -but not yet. He’d given the name. So freely. Before the target’s face smashed into the steering wheel. Again. Again and again. Words float over him. Demanding. Venomous. Unimportant. He digs his feet in, stops moving. He just needs a moment to- to-

“Солдат!” a voice snarls, angry. Familiar. Snaking through his head with a deadly coil. Promising pain for insubordination. Order through pain.

Something sharp pricks his arm. Danger. Escape. Run. The man with the syringe grunts, then flies. Crashes. Doesn’t move any further. Weak. Breakable. The Soldier could easily-

Something hard slams into the back of his head, vision lighting up with fire, knees hitting the floor. He catches the stun baton on the second swing, wrenching it from the faceless man’s grip. Eliminate hostile. It’s one fluid motion, body twisting as he stands, swinging the baton at his attacker, catching him beneath the jaw with a crack. Precise. Efficient. The baton hits the second man’s chest squarely, sending him down with a surge of electricity. The third man’s shirt is twisted in metal fingers without a thought and yanked close, baton raised high.

“желание,” the man spits at him. Longing. His eyes show no fear. Just anger. Annoyance.

The Soldier freezes, that one word cutting straight through him. The world clears a little. Feet grounding. His eyes flicker to the felled men, back to the man in his grasp. The baton lowers a fraction. Something else starts to grip his chest. Slow realization. Painful. Crushing. He attacked- He attacked-

“Это правильно, Солдат…” That’s right, Soldier… The man’s voice is softer, as if speaking to a spooked animal. A hand lifts to the Soldier’s metal wrist, the grasp firm. His eyes dart to it and back. This is- is his- His breathing is ragged. Uncertain. A deep crease slowly forms between his brows. Puzzling. Wrong. Wrong. “Отпусти меня.” Let go of me.

“ржавый.” Rusted. It’s thrown at him when he doesn’t immediately comply. The Soldier flinches and pulls back as if struck, the baton dropping to the floor. His handler. He attacked his handler. He’d been confused. A mistake. Mistake. Been out of cryo too long -that’s what they usually say, isn’t it? Feels right. He can’t remember. Not really. But- A loud crack echos through the now quiet room, pain blossoming across the Soldier’s cheek. His head snaps to the side, but he otherwise doesn’t react as his handler slowly lowers his hand, rubbing at his reddening knuckles. Pain earned. Deserved. The other man nods, satisfied by the lack of response. It’d be a shame to have to go through a full activation just to get the thing into the chair. Luckily, the small reminder of control was enough. This time. “Хороший. Приготовь его!” Good. Get him ready!

Men are at his sides again, but not touching. Leading. Watching. Gripping their guns nervously. He goes with them, the threat of those words hanging over him. He shouldn’t have- shouldn’t- he made a mistake. But they’re going to carve it out of his head. Make it right. Fix the mistakes. Fix him. Make him operational again and take away the confusion. Take away the name. The name. What was it? What-? He doesn’t fight as he’s seated, doesn’t bite the fingers that bring the rubber guard to his mouth -he’s done that before, he thinks. Blood. Screaming. Pain they deserve. The chair whirrs to life, fastening down on his arms. It’s for the best. He needs to be operational. Useful. His chest heaves, unable to stop the fearful anticipations as the machine circles above him, descending like terrible mechanical vultures to clamp down around his head, buzzing hot in his ears before the inevitable white hot flash.


January, 1993

“Вы вторгаетесь в государственную собственность. Уезжайте или будем стрелять на месте!”
You are trespassing on government property. Leave or we will shoot on sight!

The message starts moments after the steel doors are ripped from their tracks and repeats every few seconds. There are no alarms blaring, no flashing lights to indicate personnel movement. Just the repeating pre-recorded message echoing through the stone halls. But to the well-trained ears, one might be able to detect movement; sets of heavy boots making their way down to the lower level, guns being checked and c*cked. After the book went missing, it was only a matter of time before someone showed up for the rest of the set. The Colonel rests his elbows on his desk, hands folding and resting against his lips as he watches the duo make their way through his halls. He never should have handed off that damn book for someone else to hide, never should have let it out of his sight.

Once a hive of Hydra activity, the Siberian bunker now serves a single purpose -safeguard The Winter Soldier. Though the organization is hardly dead, it’s been forced into dormancy with the rise of the Augments. For the time being. There are plans in the works, back lines slowly being infiltrated, allegiances being turned. But it’s a slow and careful game. These Augments aren’t to be trifled with. They’ve proven that with their utter determination and global takeover.

So for now, The New Fist of Hydra lays dormant, asleep in his icy chamber, surrounded by armed men in the face of this intrusion. He’ll have his uses again, in time. The Colonel leans close to the monitor, pausing the grainy footage on a shot of the intruders faces. For now, he just needs to make sure his Soldier stays exactly where he is. He leans over and presses the intercom, cutting off the repeating message. “You have no business here,” he states in heavily accented English. “Leave. You will not be warned again.”
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