Luke Kismet, age 21, comes from a small suburban town known as Malstrophe. He is somewhat secluded and harbors a nonspecific contempt toward humanity in general, although he can appreciate the presence of a good person. He is fairly open and comfortable around friends, though he never had many, and goes out of his way to avoid conflict. He keeps his sandy brown hair in a cowlick and has light blue eyes. His build is lean, and he has a just slightly long nose. He has a goatee and is just above average height. He wears a grey vest with a black line slanting diagonally across the front over a long sleeve white shirt. He wears black sweat pants and combat boots. He enjoys martial arts, reading, and occasionally gambling. His power is a complicated one: It involves influencing fortune to increase the potential of a specific situation to occur to his advantage. It’s unpredictable and often requires sacrifice from others. For example, say he’s in the middle of a fight against three guys at the bottom of a canyon. There’s an outcropping of rock hanging on the canyon wall right above their heads. If Luke were to use his power in this situation, the likelihood that this ledge would fall and crush his opponents would increase. In layman’s terms, it’s all about chance. This power proves to be unreliable, however, so it doesn’t hurt to know a little bit of Taekwondo.
Luke Kismet was never thought of as being out of the ordinary. In fact, he was about as average as a person could be. He grew up in a small, suburban community, and everything he could ever need was always in abundance. He never really appreciated this; He hadn’t been taught to count his blessings. He was far too concerned with school affairs to think about how lucky he was not to be starving or some equally horrific fate.
When he first began middle school, Luke was accepted socially all around. Sure he was bullied, but jerks would be jerks. He avoided being socially classified, such as a nerd or a jock, and hovered around the middle of the social ladder. Then the “happenings” started.
Inexplicable occurrences began to plague the town. Nothing major, but frequent enough to be called a problem. People started to notice that these happenings weren’t affecting Luke. If anything, he was benefiting from them. One time, an unusually large group of rabbits came and ate a good portion of vegetables from every garden except that which belonged to the Kismets. They had record high sales that year. Another time, strange weeds began to grow up all around town. Most everyone treated them like weeds and whacked them until Luke found out that they were edible, and actually quite delicious.
As they began to notice a pattern, the other children began to dislike Luke. They avoided talking to or even being around him. The bullies became more bold in their endeavors to pester him. Luke became a recluse, evading others as much as they evaded him. He began taking classes in martial arts to fend off the ever increasing attacks of his tormentors. He found refuge in the art of fighting. Over time, he sharpened his senses and his reflexes. His muscles became strong and wiry. He trained his mind to tune out the rejection of others, and things went better for him. Until one day.
A particularly dimwitted, muscle-bound guy decided it would be a good idea to clash with Luke. He got in one little fight and his mom got scared. She said “You’re moving with your auntie and your uncle in Bel-Air.”

Think you could organize it a tad bit better?

The bad joke would be ruined.

Indeed. The power sucks, the backstory is boring, and quite frankly, I did this for the sake of the bad joke.

You should've finished it, though. It would've been better.

But it would have been easier to read...

Nevermind then.

Meh, I'm brewing something else up at the moment. Something that's not a joke.