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Mason Sterling[1], code name Mace, is a member of the Tigers, and an esper variant called a Paragon. He instinctively knows how to do anything very well; the caveat is that he can do this with only one thing at a time, which is how Chaka one-shotted him.[2] And if he actually starts thinking about the activity it can interfere with the instinctive Paragon thing.[3] Original canon information on the Tigers page places him in the Class of 2008.

So, I was standing there around the corner of Kirby Hall from the Quad, waiting for T-bird to show up, so that I could come along just after he got there. Then he could complain about girls always being late, and it would be like a normal date. I was sneaking a look around the corner, when I heard this too-deep, too-smooth, too-Barry-White-to-be-real voice. “Well, what are you waiting for, Gorgeous? I’m here!”[2]
I felt a stab of dread, afraid on one hand that Scotty had spotted me in my little stratagem, and worried on the other that he might think that that kind of posturing was cool. I turned to face him, and instead of T-Bird, I was looking up into the smiling- no make that smirking- face of a tall African-American guy. He was tall, he was buff, he was good-looking, and there was something definitely not right about him. It took me a second, but I got it: He was gorgeous, and he knew it. Worse, he knew it, and he was vain. Now, a guy who is really good looking can be forgiven that, if he doesn’t know it, like Scotty does. He can be excused, if he knows it but doesn’t make anything of it. But when a guy is gorgeous, knows it, and, and makes a big deal of it, that is just --- yyeeerrrggg…[2]
This guy was gorgeous, knew it, and was tripping on himself like you wouldn’t believe. He had long dreadlocks and you just knew that he was waiting for his beard to come in, so that he could grow one of those oh-so-groovy goatees to go with it. He was lounging there in an unbleached linen shirt, the kind that laces up the front, so that he can show off his killer pecs, and he was sort of waiting for me to melt in the presence of his masculine glory. One of my brother Vince’s ‘posse’ is like this. I remembered from conversations that I hadn’t been able to avoid listening in on, that guys like this tend to regard the girls they date as some sort of fashion accessory. They choose who they going to date that night, by how well the girl accessorizes with what they’re wearing.[2]
We were rounding Schuster Hall arm in arm, when someone stuck himself in our path. The bozo with the dreadlocks sort of planted himself in front of us, fists on his hips. “WHAT? You mean that you blew off a chance to be with ME for this slice of whitebread?”
“Mace,” Scott sighed, “what do you think you are doing?”[2]

He's all prepared to take Chaka down in the dojo, but she gets him thinking, which is death to his Paragon talent.[3]

He's hanging with N'Dizi to either get Chaka into the Tigers or punish her for not sticking with the rest of the Blacks.[4]

ReferencesEdit

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