Scrap.INC Character Index

[Hellis]

 

[Beowulf]

Spoiler

His dog Rudy

Name: Connor James McKinley
Code Name: Fido
Age: 25
Previous Affiliation; SCPD

Skills:
Major:
Animal Handler: His baby, Rudy, isn't always so lovable. He has the complete trust, loyalty, and obedience of the mutt. Rudy is as much a weapon as he is a companion.

Chemist: Add a little bit of this, a little of that, and hey presto we got a new thing. It's really as simple as that, he knows what to mix to get certain things and what not to mix if he wants to live.

Public relations: He's good at talking with people, real good. He can talk just about anyone out of doing something stupid, like resisting Scrap Inc.

Minor:
Medic: He knows how bodily chemistry works just as much as regular chemistry. So he'll give you the right medication for the situation. Anything beyond that, go get Gallows.

Moral/emotional support: More because of his dog then himself. Killing people takes it's toll, and him and Rudy are there to ease it a little. Especially if you bring treats.

SMG proficiency: It doesn't require a lot of skill or finesse to use it. All you really have to do is point it in the general direction and hold down the trigger. After that one of two things will happen, you win the fight or you reload and repeat the process until you win the fight.

Trait:
Handsome (+): He looks good, plain and simple.

Animal Lover (+): He has a soft spot for animals.

Touchy Feely (-): He can't keep his hands to himself, which has gotten him into his fair share of trouble. Of course, there are exceptions to this such as the boss' daughter. He knows better then to lay a finger on her.

Weapons:

Spoiler

It's an SMG, he doesn't know the model and he hasn't given it a name. Unlike some other people, he isn't to attached to his gun.

Spoiler

The Fido suit protects Rudy from light arms fire and shrapnel from grenades and reduces the effects of larger caliber rounds. Allows Rudy to move freely while still being safe. A small camera mounted on the armor interfaces with the HUD on his helmet and allows him to see what the dog is up to and give orders if need be.

Augmentations (if any): Please remember. Your body may "only" be 50 percent robotic. Two arms and your torso per example. Or waist down. I suggest spreading it out, be smart about it. Make sure it fits your characters purpose.

A wireless communicator has been installed to the side of his skull and can be used for both every day life and on missions. The frequency that it sends and receives messages at can be adjusted manually. He does not have to send messages verbally, since the communicator translates the electric signals for the words automatically. He does have to at least mouth the words in order for it to work, however, so a good lip reader will always know what he's talking about if he's not careful.

Personality: Connor is a rather cheerful person. In a place like this you need to smile every now and again if you ask him. And in order to keep up his chipper attitude, he cares for his dog Rudy. Well, he also causes harmless mischief such as occasionally switching the sugar with the salt, but that's besides the point. Connor loves his dog and treats him like a human child. You hurt his dog, and he will hurt you. But feel free to tease the dog and play with him, he needs the exercise.

Backstory: Connor was raised in the middle levels of Singularity. It wasn't the best life had to offer, but it was a hell of a lot better then in the lower levels. And to top it off, both his parents are still alive and well, he's even got living and breathing grandparents. And as he grew up, he had pretty normal ambitions. But throughout his childhood and college life, he had his eyes firmly set on being a police officer.

Once he became an officer, Rudy entered his life. He was only a little puppy when Connor got him, but he immediately formed a bond with the mutt. And even though they wouldn't allow Rudy to be a K-9 unit, Connor taught him everything a K-9 unit would need to know and then some. But training a normal dog to be a potential killer is frowned upon in society.

A year after he got Rudy, they tore his life apart. They framed him for doing things he hadn't even dreamed of doing in his darkest fantasies. And they were even going to take his dog and put him down. That was where Connor drew the line, so he simply disappeared. That in itself is a story for another time, what's important is that he showed up at Scrap Inc looking for a job. Even nobodies and their dog need to eat.

 

[Hellis]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Name: Clemens Bartholomew Baychester the Fifth.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Code Name: "Big Daddy" / "BB-Five"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Age: 61[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Previous Affiliation; Martian Armed Forces, 21[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]st[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Cybernetic Recon[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Skills:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent](major)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Revolver Specialization:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Clemens find that the old west got something very right. The revolver he employ in combat have been with him since the end of the war. While back then he had training and more often used assault rifles as was the standard.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Leadership: Clemens know he isn't as spry as he once was, and have taken to be teams pillar and defacto leader. Having extensive leadership training and experience from his time at the 21[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]st [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent], mentoring and leading from the back as well as the front comes naturally to him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Knowledge, Scrappers: He know all there is to know of the varius crews, who are in employ where and how many of them owe him money. [/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent](Minor)[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basic Training; It was 40 year ago he received his training. He has picked up many bad habits since. But some things, like maintaining his rifles and pistols still sit well and true.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Knowledge, Singularity underworld: He has a lot of ears to the ground. And know a few things about the different mobs moving about.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]CQC: 21[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]st[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Recon often worked in cramped environments, such as urban areas and ship warfs. They were trained in hand to hand combat, reliant on their augmented strength and other capabilities to supply the sort of power normal non-augs just cannot compete with.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Trait:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Wiley Veteran: ( Positive)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Having served in the army have its benefits. Surivivng another 30 odd years on the street and in the business of being a scrapper only compounds that experience. Clemens is a veteran I every sense of the word. He doesn't rattle easily, he doesn't flinch and he he doesn't hesitate.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Large and in Charge (Positive)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]A behemoth of a man, he has the voice and presence to match. His baritone, deep voice is famous among scrappers. To say he command respect in and out of the battlefield cannot be overstated. This also goes to intimidate his surroundings when not around his team.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]To old for this shit (Negative)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Even with higher living standards, better medicine and mechanical augmentations, 60 is far beyond human peak years. He is feeling his years, unable to run or keep up with many of the younger colleagues in conditioning he doesn't heal as quickly anymore.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Weapons:[/BCOLOR]

Mastodon

[BCOLOR=transparent]The .7 "Mastodon" revolver. This monsters of a gun was made with very specific users in mind and in very limited numbers. Taking its cues from the infamous Python Revolver and Russian Nitros of the old Earth, it's size leaves it to heavy to wield securely by any non aug. Even so, the kickback is such that most just goes with more convenient and just as devastating weapons like a riot shotgun. But for augmented personnel, the option was there. Again however, the same aug meant smaller weapons became even more accurate and reliable.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]What it does do well, aside from packing a freight train behind each bullet. Is special munition. The Mastodon Pistol come like a shotgun does, with different sorts of higly specific options.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Flak Rounds: A cartridge full of very sharp, very pointy spikes, the bullet shatter some scant meter from expulsion, turning into a hailstorm of death.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Inferno Round: These rounds work like that of the old dragon's breath shotgun variety, only with today's chemicals its more potent, less unstable and far scarier.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Divider Rounds: The piercer round is basically a very advanced version of the more common Armor-Piercer round. Only this is designed to break further up on the larger bullet, releasing very simple nanites that simply attach and destroys whatever organic material it comes in contact with.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Sabot Rounds: Highly efficient armor piercing rounds.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]HE Rounds: High Explosive rounds. Basicly, someone decided to put explosives into the tip of these rounds. Used only once by Clemens, as he found them to destructive.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For Clemens though, his gun are his go to. Capable of delivering .70 caliber slugs at decent range and paired with a cognitive reaction implants and ammo for every occasion he can do a lot of damage in short time. The major drawback is the fact it only takes three bullets at a time.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Augmentations: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]A.R.E.S Arm Assault chassie V.3 "Barracuda Model". (right and left arm, Spine): The ARES own AAC series is one of the most common military-grade augmentations in existence. The AAC comes highly modifiable for its users need but comes with strength restrictions to those with none reinforced spine. The standard replaces the lower arm but integrate part of the upper arm musceilar and bone structure with titanium alloy. Notably. The wrist has a hard point for extra shielding, blades or tasers. Instead, Clemens went with kinetic dampeners. These are common in CQC focused augments as it lessen the stress and impact on the overall structure of the arms and spine. Clemens got it because it lets him reduce the recoil of his monstrous handgun to manageable levels.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Voska Industries V-Jack: A two port, standard issue V-jack for integration with systems and computers. Fitted at the base of his skull.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Voska industries Cognitive Combat Reflex Suite: A complex and highly expensive internal rig, he had it installed soon after his wife left. I enhances his eye-to-hand coordination and upper body reflexes while also providing him with trajectory tracing and other on the fly information directly to his cybernetic right eye.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Personality:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Born and raised on mars, He was once willing to die for it. He is sixty two years of age. That means he was at his 30's when the war ended. It meant he saw action. He wasn't with the dreaded, now insane Martian Cybertech Comandos. But the war marked him for life. He came home a changed man, more bitter, more distrustful than anything else. Nobody hired him. Nobody but Scrap.Inc. He owes a debt to the old man who started it, and he takes his job seriously. He values his colleagues and he looks after them best he can.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He can be surprisingly jovial and light of heart when talking about his daughter or things not work related. However, when it comes to his job, he doesn't joke around. He knows his business is the definition of cutthroat. And he has no remorse holding a gun to a person head.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Backstory: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"I was born a station rat, I was made into a martian soldier then I was made to fight the planet that had been my ancestral home and in the end I am a nobody. I hold no allegiances but to those close and with no strings on me but the ones I chose to stay afloat. I am a product of conflict, and by the nine graces, I am getting to old for this shit.." - Clemens Bartholomew Baychester the Fifth. During the Artenburrow Hearings.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some people are thrown into world kicking and screaming. Others are stillborn. They thought clemens was the latter. He is a spacer. Or rather a orbiter. A person born not on one of the planets or even in one of the mining colonies out in the asteroid belts. He was born on one of the hundred habitat spheres orbiting Mars. These stations were leftovers from the earlier colonization days, back when terraforming was still underway in most places. AFter the Planetside expansion truly began, many of these were abandoned or converted to shuttle hubs. What many are willing to forget about the colonization was that not everyone could afford to leave the stations once real estate began to prop up, and in some cases spouses were torn from their family because they were needed for specific tasks. Sometimes they are abandoned outright. This led to people stranded on increasingly derelict stations. Some were lucky as their stations got repurposed.But even then, you got entire populations of poor people living in the many nooks and corners of the vast, underpopulated stations. It was a tragic fact that during the 20 odd long war between Mars and Earth, many of the stations were struck by enemy fire and thousands died without Mars really or Earth really knowing. One such station was O'shea Station, where Clemens was born. He and his sister was entrepreneurs onboard the station along Clemens future wife: Lea. All three having grown up in the vents and the old forgotten sections of the ship, but having had a knack for doing odd jobs for other people, gaining themselves a rep as the stations most reliable "henchmen." His sister was a natural born hacker, and had been tampering with the ship system from early age. Meanwhile he was the muscle. They loved their "Station rats" like family, and even those occasionally miserable, the O'shea was their home.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Luck would have it that they were arrested for fraud and digital credit theft a week before the fighting reached O'shea. The station went up in flames as they were awaiting trials. When news came out that the O'shea was gone, they were pardoned unconditionally, as they were among the few survivors and they needed them for PR purposes. While his sister used the newfound place in life to get away from it all, Clemens found himself staring at the sky, filled with youthful anger. Despite Leas pleas not to, He joined the army shortly after, joining the Ranks of Cybertech Recon. A less scary, less infamous unity of the Cybernetic Army Core. Here he was fitted with his first version of the ARES army chassi. He grew to love the power of his new arms and felt himself justified in his violence against the Aggressors that was the UNE. Unbeknownst to him, Lea was pregnant.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For Almost 6 years he fought in a war that that seemed to have no end. And then A.D.A.M happened. He was onboard the AI driven cruiser "Balacha" at the time, awaiting to assault one of earth's bigger defense platforms along a large chunk of the Martian Armada. When their own ships opened up one another. Then the Androids became homicidal, gunning down any biologicals onboard. The 21st Recon were at the armory when it went down. This meant they had the equipment they needed to arm themselves for what was to come. Fighting corridor to corridor, linking up with others along the way, they managed to reclaim the ship from the AI. They got it out of there with only a skeleton crew.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The Hostile A.I emergence had deeper impact on his unit however. Many had slave AI's chipped in that overrode and calibrated certain aspects of the brains activity. These were apparently susceptible to A.D.A.M madness to. There were many deaths and losses within his unit as the last moments of the conflicted unfolded. When the ashes scattered to the winds and the AI threat was dealt with, he found he had lost all appetite for war. He came home to a wife that he didn't fully recognize. And he was not the same man as the young plucky rebel that had left to fight for Mars.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They tried to make it work. And for a while, they did. Emmas birth was a highlight in both their lives. It was around this time, he had gotten a offer by his old commander to join a venture called Scrap.Inc. There he found out they were looking for some of their old comrades who had gone AWOL. And both men agreed that if anyone should take them in, it should be their old war buddies. They made good money but the job was hard. Seeing what had become of so many good men was terrible. But to put down some of the less savory types he always feared would go rogue was somehow empowering.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]However, as he got more absorbed in it, he found he was drifting away from his wife once more. Lea was growing increasingly agitated with her Husbands inability to walk away from a life of violence. When Emma was five years of age, they separated. At the same time the old Scrap.Inc owner, Commander Salem, died in cancer. Clemens went into a slump, he was 46 at the time and he was had been thrust into a position of leadership he never asked for. After that he got fully absorbed in his work and has dedicated himself to the business and his colleagues ever since.[/BCOLOR]

 

[The_J]

Name: Vage Hallis (Vage like Vayj)


Code Name: Grasshopper


Age: 28


Previous Affiliation; (Optional)


Primary Skills:

Tinkering - Vage's skills with cybernetics and other mechanical devices have been described as "ridiculous" "unfair" and "bullshit" by friends and foes alike. As swift as he runs, he can mock up simple devices, and is constantly experimenting with new ideas and inventions. This makes repairing, modifying and improving Vage's legs and equipment a doddle for him to do, especially in his well-equipped (if messy) workshop.

Gunplay - Vage is reasonably talented with anything resembling a pistol, SMG or smaller rifle, however he most prefers it when they're light and automatic, making an SMG the perfect choice for him.

Hacking - A technical mind like Vage's can naturally turn itself to a pursuit such as hacking, and he has quite the talent for it - before he became a scrapper, many a treasured, secret design was lost to him, taken to his workshop for study and disassembly, often being integrated into his own designs.

Secondary Skills:

First Aid: besides some skin repair nanites, Vage also carries some basic first aid supplies, and he'd learnt how to use it over the years well enough.

Hand-to-Hand: when he's down to nothing but a knife or even without that, Vage uses his scrappy, aggressive fighting style to stay alive. He's better than most due to his augmented legs and a few years of working with gangs, but that can only go so far.

Explosives: He's not an expert - tutors and literature in such a subject are hard to find - but Vage knows his way around things that go boom enough to defuse less complex explosives and make his own as well.

Traits:

+Move fast, think fast: Vage's mind moves at a great pace, jumping between concurrent thoughts and sometimes starting a new train of thought altogether, several almost running alongside each other. This leads to him coming up with abstract solutions to all sorts of problems on the fly, though conversation with him can be a little odd. This can lead to being easily distracted, but combat tends to be a strong draw for his focus.

+Dirty Fighter: Vage is in no way above making a cheap shot when he sees one, and will usually fight as dirty as he has to in order to win the fight. Using the environment throwing dust in people's eyes, anything goes as long as he comes out of it alive, and the other guy doesn't.

-Coward: When he has less than a 50-50 chance of making it out of a fight on top, Vage prefers to either avoid it altogether or make his way out at the nearest opportunity. Others might call this cowardly, he sees it as pragmatism.


Weapons:
Heavily modded HK XM30 Submachine Gun, AKA "Locust"
Somehow in these ravaged worlds, Hechler and Koch are still going strong - then again, such is war. This is one of their more popular models. Relatively cheap, dependable, and nothing to be sniffed at in a firefight, it's a common choice for many a combatant. Vage has pulled every little trick he can to make this little beauty more powerful, the clips longer, the recoil lower and the accuracy higher. Can use disruptor rounds to take down androids.

Semi-Automatic Pistol AKA "Cricket"
Made from scratch, this little beastie's 10mm rounds pack quite the punch. It can also use a silencer for more covert missions. Can use disruptor rounds to take down androids.

Modded Combat Knife
This wickedly sharp blade has a canister of carbon dioxide held at high pressure in its base with a tube ending at the tip, allowing Vage to make its stabs far, far deadlier as the rapidly expanding gases tear open wounds.

Fragmentation grenades
For when diplomacy doesn't quite cut it. Vage isn't much of a diplomat.


Augmentations: Everything from Vage's waist down is high-tech augmentation, tuned to within an inch of its life. Literally packed to the cheeks with the fanciest gizmos and gadgets Vage could get his hands on or create, they contain many a surprise for anyone who faces him down. They allow him to sprint at speeds around 30mph.

• Boosters: these accelerate Vage at a great pace, however it's hard to him to control his movement with them, and the legs will start to overheat and break down if he uses them for more than twenty seconds or so at a time. They can provide just enough thrust to allow unstable flight.
• Taser prongs: located in the knee cap, heel and toe, these can extend and retract to provide enough current to incapacitate most foes upon contact.
• Storage compartments: all over the legs are located sections dedicated to holding small items - tools, a V-jack on a cable with spares, even a pistol at the hip.
• Traction nodes: small but powerful electromagnets and electrostatic generators located in the soles of the feet and the knees. These allow Vage to stick to practically any surface, especially when used in conjunction with his gloves. They also allow Vage to run on practically any surface, even those slick with oil or water, as they can greatly increase his friction with the ground

Personality: Vage is an eclectic sort, always moving, thinking, doing something to occupy his active mind. One of the only times he seems peaceful is when he's concentrating on his work, though even during this his brain is a chaotic swirl of new ideas, random thoughts, and surprisingly little on the task at hand. This means that he tends to think all around a problem, rather than going straight at it head on, using all sorts of abstract ideas to create something unique, or sneaky tricks to gain the upper hand in combat - he's definitely not above fighting dirty.
He's a very possessive man, and doesn't like other people touching his possessions. His workshop is locked up as tight as a bank vault, with all sorts of security systems, both lethal and nonlethal, waiting for an intruder to find their way inside. He doesn't have any sort of deal or contract for selling his creations for this very reason, but he's not above repairing or making and selling something on request, for a high price of course - but with his craftsmanship and unique work, it's usually worth it.
Under pressure, Vage becomes a lot more violent. He fights dirty initially, but if he's hurt, or cornered, he'll be extremely judicious and unrelenting, desperation overcoming self-preservation, until he can end the battle, or flight can overcome fight. In a similar vein, it's easy for him to get carried away, slipping into a state where he barely even thinks about what he's doing. This can lead to friendly fire if someone so much as shoves him, so it's best to give him a wide berth in combat, not that it's hard with how he runs about the place.

Backstory: There's a reason Vage guards his creations so jealously. Once upon a time, he did not. His parents were rich businesspeople, the sort that lived high in the upper echelons of Singularity City. In his early life, Vage was punished for his lack of focus, treated as if his ADHD was his own fault. Nannies, both robotic and human, were responsible for most of his upbringing, and while they attempted to educate him, what he was taught rarely sunk in, and he learned far more from the manuals, magazines, documentation, patents and articles he could find online. While they were distant, Vage's parents learned from his carers of his apparent aptitudes. They organised much more specialised tutelage for him, as well as allowing him to use the workshops from the companies they owned to hone his craft.
Initially, Vage was elated. He could tinker and craft practically anything his heart desired, and any time he couldn't, it was but a phone call away to attain a new tool, material, or software package - that is, if he couldn't make it himself.
As he reached adulthood however, it became apparent what his parents truly wanted for him. He'd never been allowed to keep any of his creations that were of any merit, but had initially been told that it was to ensure that he would never rest on his laurels, to make him keep thinking of new ideas and learning more, rather than stagnating by trying to improve old inventions.
A lie, of course. His parents were using him as free Research and Development. His talents were used and abused without him even knowing it - anything he created was sent for testing and evaluation, to be either developed into a new product line, used to improve existing products, or tossed aside, if it was deemed useless.
Vage tried to leave, but he ended up being imprisoned in his own workshop - his heaven had become his hell. A refusal to allow his talents to be used for a company he now hated were met with harsh punishments - his own parents even stooped as low as starvation. An emotional wreck, Vage was the golden goose, and his parents took every egg they could from him.
What his captors didn't realise, however, was that Vage didn't take well to being cooped up. As soon as he had been forced back into inventing, he had begun to hatch a plan. A bomb.
What appeared to be a new rifle was in fact both an EMP device and an explosive in one. He'd created a set of boots for himself that would allow him to jump higher, run faster, and even grip to the walls of buildings so that he could make his escape.
It worked. He disabled all of the security systems around him during what looked like his usual tinkerings, then tore the wall of the room to shreds with the explosive. It would probably seem as if a rival company had discovered his parents' secret inventor, then stolen him away. For years they searched high and low, bribing the police and gangs alike to find him, but they never succeeded. Taking him for either dead or a lost cause, they gave up the search after his twenty-second birthday.
Meanwhile, Vage had been doing well for himself. Initially he had high-tailed it down to the lower districts, before setting himself up with various gangs to provide them with the tech they desired. He even had his feet replaced with cybernetic ones, similar to the boots he had initially used to escape.
Eventually, however, he tired of the daily toil to survive and keep willing customers for the tech he could make for them. He had learned to fight, the hard way, and saw that Scrap Inc. was recruiting. It sounded like a world of inspiration to him, and they'd be able to procure much better funding for his various projects. He could even extend his augmentations to the entirety of his legs, allowing him far greater agility and fighting prowess.
This leads us to the present, where Vage is both tinker and soldier for Singularity City's finest.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Are you lost?"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Shakes Head: No[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Is there anything I can help you with?"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Shakes Head: Yes[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What do you need?"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Points to Scrap Inc. Sign[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You need directions"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Shakes Head: Yes[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Uh…." nervous smiles, points it out on the map, "It's right here. You're only 2 blocks away."[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]^ _ ^[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Application Scrap Inc.[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Name: [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Default [?][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Age: [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]29[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Code Name: [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Default[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Previous Affiliation:[/BCOLOR] [BCOLOR=transparent]Don't remember[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Resume[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Primary Skills:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Stealth - I hide in corners, and people do not see me. I am very good at sneaking up on them when they least expect. Sometimes I do it to people when I don't want to though. O.o ' [nervous sweat drop][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Perhaps it seems unusual that someone could move without a sound to their step, or move in a fashion that allows them to cut through the light. It seems he can come and go as he pleases, knowing how to carefully distribute his weight evenly and observe the line of sight of others being able to slip past them with ease. It does help his meek nature doesn't allow him to be registered with most people as well. His small frame making him easily looked over by those taller and larger than him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Blade Mastery - The sword I carry his name is Memori and I take him everywhere with me. But you see I am also very good with Memori.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Someone's trained him, that's all someone can say about his assured footing and his proper stance. He holds the blade with a firm grip and moves within seconds.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Parkour - People sometimes look at things around them as obstacles. I don't see them as obstacles, I move around them freely.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He takes full advantage of his environment, seeing no obstacle. He cuts across the environment like he isn't even physical, like he's ethereal and cant get from one place to another. There is no Point A to Point B. He flies through the city, like he owns it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Secondary Skills:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Disarming - Sometimes people point dangerous objects at you, and you have no way of escaping. So it's better to take it away from them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Applying his sword style to hand to hand combat, Default uses his hands and fingers as a sword point and his arm as the blade. With almost equal nimbleness to his blade, Default focuses primarily on disarming his foes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]City Knowledge - I know a lot of things about the city. I got in here all right. I know where all the little corners are.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Probably because of the way he navigates the city through freerunning and parkour, no place is off limits to Default's exploration. He knows just about every nook and cranny there is to the city, and he will exploit it in every way he could to be able to get where he needs to go in the shortest possible time. It is also a way for him to help others navigate the city more freely and more independently as he does.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Tracking - Instincts.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While Default might not have a dog's sense of smell, he wishes he did. Default has the instinct of when knowing things are not in order, his own attention to detail allows him to track the trajectory of danger, or be able to predict the next move of his opponents, where they would go next.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"...I like him"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Clemens... no more strays"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"He is hired"[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]".....Sigh..."[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Positive Traits:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Cat Like Grace - Default has always been quick on his feet, running through the city and flying through it has given him great grace and balance where he may lack it in his memory or his thinking, he certainly doesn't lack it on his feet. He is quick to turn, and has a cat like grace. He rarely loses his balance and lands with even footing able to escape injury for an amatuer.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Economical: While Default is skilled, he knows that the most effective strike is a one hit kill. Whether that means employing hit and run tactics or wading through enemies, he always aims for lethal areas: the head, neck, chest.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Negative Traits:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Shyness - For whatever reason Default seems incredible shy. He doesn't like people to notice him and doesn't like being the center of attention, he likes to get on by without the attention if he can. Choosing not to speak because he doesn't want someone to draw their ire on him. He's prone to run away quickly, to find somewhere to hide if he feels anxious or nervous in the situation. Sometimes he himself doesn't chose to hide, but the neural implants react to his own nervous making him camouflage into the background.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Instability - There are some unusual traits of Default, his memory is best described as scrambled eggs, selective amnesia. But that's nowhere near a problem as Default's apparent instability when it comes to certain things. Particularly his Helmet, which he will fight you tooth and nail not to take off of him. And his Sword which he carries with him everywhere he goes and if he isn't allowed to take it with him seems lost and unable to function without these two things.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Weapons:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Memori - That blade is deadly where did he even get it? No ordinary civilian should have been allowed to carry around what appears to be a military grade sword in a scabbard. The sword seems to have a certain feature, made of light alloy, that has circuits inside the metal. And when activated the blade can heat up, cutting through most material and human flesh like boiling butter.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Hidden Monoblade Knives - In the pockets of his armor, he has a few hidden knives, he keeps at the defensive, in case someone grabs him, or needs a kick escape or distraction. While he might not be the best thrower, he can throw them with a 79% of actually hitting something. Otherwise they make a nice "sinkt" noise as a distracting sound so he can slip off. However, he does compliment his hidden blades with his own unique sword style martial arts.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gadgets:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Civilian Helmet - As expressed in his day to day attire, which you will see in appearance, his helmet communicates via simplified emoticons. The helmet reads or translates his neural implant in doing so, allowing him to effectively communicate what he's trying to express.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Scrap Inc. Mission Helmet - As seen in his armored appearance, the Helm on his mission is quite different from his Civvy Helmet, with a few features that supplement his stealth capabilities and skulking around in small, narrow crevices that he choses to do so.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Temp Reading Mode - Allows him to see the residual heat leftover by shoes, hand prints, or warm bodies pressed on surfaces like leaning on walls.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Body Scanning - Allows him to quickly scan those around him, identifying who is human, who is cybernetic, and who is android. And through a 3D "X-Ray" like vision allows him to scan through their bodies, like a quick MRI.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Several communication features that allow him to uplink information to mission controls, or to other devices Scrap Inc. agents may have. The information he sends is basic information, such as his scans which Arthur/Gallows can read or such as giving information of the buildings layout through 3D blueprints.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Unbeknownst to him because of his habit to wander, Clemens had a tracker issued in his mission helmet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Augmentations:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Optic Camouflage Skin 30% - After experiencing third degree burns on most of his skin, a kind stranger paid for his skin graph to be made from optic camouflage skin. Mostly on his hand, arms, upper torso, and head. The camouflage does not make him invisible, instead it takes on the environment around it, his neural implants translate visually what the environment looks like for him to copy the environment. For example, tile walls, or stucco walls, etc.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Neural Implant in his brain was suppose to be the way his brain could translate to the optical skin. And a battery pack replaced his kidney in order to power his optic skin.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]To be perfectly honest, most have never seen his face. He cannot function without his helmet nor his sword, and will not take off his helmet for anyone. Instead his helmet been modified to read his Neural Implant. It expresses in crude and rudimentary emoticons how Default would like to express himself as a response.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Most haven't even heard Default speak, let alone know much of his past. He choses to wear loose fitting, torn pants, and comfy sneakers. Unless he's on the job, where the helmet changes, as well as the armor.[/BCOLOR]

​

[BCOLOR=transparent]He's not very tall either, only standing at 5'6", he looks much taller when he's standing above you, but when he gets closer the intimidation begins to shrink. His meek and mild manner makes him look mousy framed, and for the most part he is. He has a habit of fitting himself into tiny corners to hear briefings or mission details.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His armor is made of bullet proof lightweight material, Kevlar like. Ignore the metal arms, I like the outfit, the mood, and to focus on the sword[/BCOLOR]

Mission Armor

[BCOLOR=transparent]Note; While the Face Claim is up. Few to no one has seen his face. He would not allow people the privilege to see his face. People make him feel nervous, uncomfortable, and anxious. He only feels comfortable when they are not looking at him. According to him people are weird face shaped things you have to stare at for an uncomfortable length of time to speak to them. And he is incapable of doing so.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Under the mask he is a tawny haired, lean framed young man, with a damaged eye and gray irises in the other. His skin is pale and his hair is often cut in an under shave, with little hair left. It's easier to wear a helmet without too much hair.[/BCOLOR]

You Saw Nothing

[BCOLOR=transparent]Personality Strengths:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Despite all that seems to be holding him back, he's still mild mannered and trustworthy. He's not about to lie or steal from those he considers friends. And for those he considers friends or people he'd like to get to know he makes exceptions.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As long as they are not things that make him uncomfortable, like taking off his helmet, speaking, or keeping his sword at home. He is more than happy to engage in banter, as long as not all the focus is on him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]If it is he has a happen chance to slip off and disappear. His mild nature means he doesn't get into many arguments with others. Which probably makes Clemens life easier when there's one less argument erupting in Scrap Inc.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He's eager to learn, and curious. And views few people as mentor figures. Well those he considers older, more experienced, and more knowledgeable. In that retrospective he looks up to Clemens, Cash, and probably Arthur the most because they seem the most put together.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He himself is an organizer and a planner, despite his brain being scrambled eggs. He will keep to his commitments, if he says he'll do something he does it with 110% commitment. Rarely saying no in order to gain the approval of those around him. Not out of his own selfishness, but because he does enjoy being part of a new exciting community.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He's cautious, careful and considerate, and while working there is a seriousness even in his bizarre nature that implies a working individual under all the stranger behavior.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Personality Flaws:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Let's face it Default is bizarre, there is no amount of personality strengths to justify his bizarre, strange behavior. Maybe the only saving grace was that Clemens took pity on him, rather than mercy ending his life.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The few problems Default deals with is his social anxiety and his shyness, prone to being flighty, and running away when a social situation becomes too much for him. His flightiness and anxiety is the least of others worries. As Default has to deal with what he calls His Scrambled Eggs.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For a few reasonings, that he's not even sure of. He has selective amnesia with certain memories he cannot quite place.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Describing it like a broken record or a CD skipping in his head. While other things are simply hard for him to memorize. He's a bit of a air head as well, and even though he's wearing a mask, it's clear he's slow to get certain instructions.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Simply standing with the inability to process said instructions if they are too lengthy. He needs them broken up, in simple sentence structure otherwise he'll easily forget. For this reason he has a memory journal where he writes himself small notations in order to remember better.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And even though there are these quirky natures to Default. He also seems highly unstable. Especially when on a mission or when he's spaced out. There's something about Default, that is violent. But awkward and violent. It's not something you could categorize as flying off the handle, but something you couldn't categorize as sane either. It's just is something off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]History:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A ghost of this world, a relic of a scarred past, something discarded and left behind by an old world that forgot their humanity.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Misc Information:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]According to Arthur's notes, some of the actions taken by Default and his odd behaviorism may be due to a TBI [traumatic brain injury] and this wasn't a traumatic brain injury, but a few of them over the course of Default's existence.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While hard to determine the origins of a few of the scarring, one of them was chalked up to the neural implant not fully integrated properly as he fled the hospital before further testing could be done. While currently fixed, it doesn't heal parts of the brain scarred from post traumatic injuries.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some of Default's spaceness can be chalked up to a few absent seizures he has now and then, though no one really knows what triggers them. And he'd never let you take off his helmet in order for further testing.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He has also had a habit of tunnel vision on missions, he can often hyperfocus on details at hand and get lost skulking around in the shadows.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He has no home of his home and had taken up sleeping in a hidey hole of Scrap Inc, till he was discovered and hired being given a normal room.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He also has an odd habit of collecting personal swords from cybers and androids he defeats as trophies.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He always end up eating and showering when no one's around. Or at least he thinks they aren't around. He hopes they aren't around[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Default's Civilian Helmet he wears emotes different emotions he wants to communicate, he communicates through pointing, body posture, gesturing, and head shaking. Except Clemens been giving stacks of post its as of late. His lexicon includes:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]^ _ ^ Happy[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]T _ T Sad Tears[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]@ . @ Either to express Dizziness, Anxiety/Nervousness[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]O . O Surprise or Shock or Being Startled[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]O . o Confusion mostly[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- . - Flat Face[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]- . -' Nervous[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]> . < Mad[/BCOLOR]
​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Unknown to everyone his name is Loklier Nowell Grant[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Music - This is a dumb little featurette of a few songs that I think capture the feel of the character and the way he thinks.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]To be frankly most people see him as a collection of[/BCOLOR]

Spoiler

[BCOLOR=transparent]I don't think about it most of the time. I stand at the edge of a building and I let myself go. I feel weightless and I feel at liberty.[/BCOLOR]

​

Spoiler

[BCOLOR=transparent]More like Battle Theme[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent][BCOLOR=transparent]It's strange to me, that I feel the closest to myself in these quiet moments. It's like someone has slowed down time and instinct takes over. No thoughts. Merely freedom from mind cages.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
​

Spoiler

[BCOLOR=transparent]

[/BCOLOR]

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles Powers Whatley[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I think everyone takes me as a joke, mostly because they don't see my perspective on things. When your world view is completely shattered of who are you, become fragments of who you were or thought you were. Whether or not that's an overreaction, how can it be an overreaction when that's how the world points to you now."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Code Name: Gadget[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Age: 34[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Previous Affiliation: SCPD - Traffic Officer[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Primary Skills:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Electrical Mechanical Engineering - Flask can do whatever he likes, but it's important to know your own tech. While Myles is not Scrap Inc's primary engineer, Myles does do his own maintenance and repairs on his drones and turrets. He also has done most of the engineering work in their programming, while asking for help where he doesn't have the expertise to do certain task.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Software Engineering - Though not entirely the same as our resident hacker. Since none of his skills are focused on breaking through security. Instead he programs codes and programs into working stagnant A.I. in order to better fit his needs, control of the drones and turrets. Most of his programming is limited with coding and software.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Intimidation - Look a police officer is taught to deescalate a situation, a prisoner is taught you can only be as tough on the yard if you have the right tools to make you scary. Intimidation isn't always words, it's what you back up with your words. An authoritative voice from an officer through a radio, and 10 turrets in your face is the equivalent of fear.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Secondary Skills:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]SCPD Training - It's not like he's a sitting duck, if he has to he can defend himself, it's not like he's been completely left defensive. He knows how to fire a small arm, knows how to effectively use a baton if needed, and knows some basic street fighting. Though he may be a bit rusty, with three years out of practice and the car "accident". Though he still remembers bits of it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Criminal Justice - The working knowledge of the legal and correctional system, philosophy of punishment and deterrence of crimes, and the ethical codes of behavior to make use of this knowledge.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Tinkerer - His time in prison taught him a few valuable lessons, one of them is that if you think you don't have the material you do have that material. For quick fixes, and other small repairs he has learned to use any acceptable material as a replacement in a pinch.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Positive Traits:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Quick Thinker - There's no doubt about it, Myles may not be quick on his toes, but he's quick with his brain. In a way that almost makes him seem either stupidly genius, or geniusly stupid.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Intelligent - So yes, it seems like a strange turn of events that someone quick and smart would end up a traffic cop. But there it is, a bookworm, textbook nerd, trapped in the mind of a paranoid, crazy turret using freak.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Negative Traits:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Paralyzed - Due to the car accident Myles was paralyzed from the waist down, however due to his Neural implant that feeds into his augmented spine he can walk. When he uses his turrets and drone less power is going to his augments and less neural feedback into his spine. In short he either loses the ability to control his limbs very well or cannot use them, depending on how much power he's cutting off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Cracked - Let's face it Myles is off his rockers. At this point you'd consider he was a former Locos member, not a former traffic cop.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Weapons:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Guns give you the mobility to take your artillery with you. Turrets make sure your enemies are not mobile where you don't want them to be."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles has prefered to throw most of his skills into creating a transportable blockade with Scrap Inc. Especially with larger missions, while everyone is being flushing enemies out or dealing with them inside, he deals with the setup and security watch outside of the building. Often deploying and setting up a perimeter of turrets.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The turrets and drones are controlled by a V-net system, that feedbacks a neural connection between himself, his main frame computer, and the drones and turrets. He has several types that provide their own use. [BCOLOR=transparent]He has several types that provide their own use. He himself, individually can only control up to 7 turrets. But has found his own ways of dealing with those limitations as best as he can. Max 12 with Dish active, but they are harder to controller and clunky.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Dish" - P1RTFS[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Fitted with a Stagnant AI preprogrammed to focus on a single task, this roaming dish looking drone, is meant to send a feedback loop of his radio software to all the turrets. While drones and turrets are limited with the distance and range of his neural implants, the closer the stronger the signal, the further away the more muddled the signal. T[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The Dish allows him to transfer a feedback radio transmission to the turrets further away from him keeping the signal strong. While also allowing for more control of more turrets. Creating a feedback system, he controls the first 7 setup turrets on his own this includes the Dish itself as the original 5, the Dish controls another 5.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But control is nowhere near as strong if he's not directly controlling it.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Dish

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Lens" - CDV5[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The Lens act as his eyes and ears of the perimeter and field. While its main job is to send visual confirmation to his visual spec goggles, which allows him to monitor movement, relay information, or check to see if anyone needs common repairs that can be done and there. The Lens can also be used to scout ahead of Default, take pictures and create a visual landscape of the environment.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Lens

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Mantis" - MI650D[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This is where things are starting to turn from a little boys toy box, to looking like serious material. While the Mantis itself is not very large, perhaps the size of a small dog, think a chihuaha or pug without the bladed arms that allow it to rotate. The Mantis is issued a gun mounted at its tip with 9x19 mm Parabellum cartridges while it can't take down most androids it acts as a good deterrent system, a camera for aerial feedback, and a pillbox retrofitted with sonar sensors that allow the Mantis to track movement and send information between turrets and drones.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Mantis

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Al3x" - PIARDV6[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The AX3 police issued anti riot drone, was meant to provide mostly stationary shielding for police units during high stakes, either riots or hostage situations that lend its wake to a mass shoot out. The police drone, releases a semi light shielding that protects whomever is taking cover behind it protection until the shield shatters. The shield can be held for at least 3 hours before the machine needs to go into stationary stasis to cool down. The machine can reposition itself, is fairly weak moving cover, but can be used as moving cover if it has to.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The riot drone can take a barrage from most light caliber guns, merely bouncing off of its surface leaving paper cut like dents in the shielding only for it regenerate the material. It also can take a blast from a single rocket till it shatters. And can crack with heavier, but fast firing weaponry. It also can withstand physical attacks merely repelling it completely off. Even the fastest, repetitive strike can shatter the shielding.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Al3x

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Spot" - Mini-CDS[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]You can never have too many cameras, though the specifics of this camera is to provide a spotlight to lay light into buildings, spot out enemies, and send out locations and whereabouts to any agents of Scrap Inc, turrets or drones in the area. The light on top is the spotlight, with three different len eyes[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Spot

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Brownie" - M.50BMGT[/BCOLOR]

​

[BCOLOR=transparent]You know what's a good idea bringing along a turret that can hit like a truck. What's an even better, smarter, greater idea is when it's attached to a folding tripod, that allows you to cart the mobile .50 browning machine gun turret wherever you like. It collapses. It folds. It creates carnage.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Brownie

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Pixie" - M.7.62x51MMBMGT[/BCOLOR]

​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Elegant in design, with a smaller cartridge perhaps. But nearly the same impact. You want something to be graceful like a ballerina, and wreck someone a new one, you bring along the pixie. It's magic comes in its 7.62x51mm cartridges that become the composer of an elegant turret dance.[/BCOLOR]

Click to see Pixie

​

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Pyro"- MNFT[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Hey what's that. A traffic cone. No it isn't just any ordinary traffic cone, hidden in those little portable dispensers is the Pyro. A mini flamethrower turret that rises from its stand to give a crispy, warm welcoming to anyone who trips its security defenses. Usually with communication with the other turrets.[/BCOLOR]
​

Click to see Pyro

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gadgets:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Visual Specs - His visual specs allow him to be the eyes and ears of his turrets, often throw feedback with the two drones that can see. It's almost like he's playing a virtual reality video game, the information is then transferred to his main frame computer. [as seen in appearance section][/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Augmentations:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While everyone seems to be running around with what seem like fancy augmentations, new eyes, new arms, new skin, he seems to think his Augmentations are pretty simply. After the car accident that could have taken his life, he would have been paralyzed from the waist down.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But due to his influence at the time in the force, he was fitted with an augmented spine that communicates to a neural implant in his brain, that's meant to trick the rest of his nervous system to responding to the augmented spine to allow him to walk.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Which he in turns, turned himself into a giant radio transmission instead with his drones and turrets. Still because he's prone to transferring the energy away from the neural implant to his spine, he leaves himself either unable to walk or poorly being able to do so after doing work. Otherwise when he's not diverting power from his neural implant and his spine he walks around normally, like every other walking person.[/BCOLOR]

​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Perhaps Myles shared a bit more with his mother, than his father. The blond hair and green irises, with a bronziness to his skin if he went out and got some sun. Though he had his father's strong jawline. Though the Myles they knew wasn't the Myles everyone else knew.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While still lean, fit, and thin, his short cut hair was still unkempt often having the equivalent of hoodie hair. He often wore hoodies, and baggy cargo pants with military style fashioned boots that looked worn. Like he had bought them from the nearest thrift shop in Singular City.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He opted for comfortable clothes, often never dewrinkled from lack of actually folding. He stood at 5'5", ironically and hilariously shorter than Default, with a slight, compact build.[/BCOLOR]

Face Claim

[BCOLOR=transparent]Personality Strengths:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]He might be off his rocker, but he is clever and works well with the group. Myles has always been the smart kid, ever since he was a kid, he was the top of his class in many of his major sciences and computer classes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Just because Myles has insane, crazy rambling moments, doesn't mean you should discount what he's saying. Since most of the time he's going somewhere even if it seems like that somewhere may be crazy town.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It might be his own crazy, suspicious paranoia that makes Myles seem like your everyday average joe. Sometimes those crazy moments can affect the way he comes out, making him look like he's either an awkward genius or a stupid person stumbling on great ideas.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And even though he's cracked, his years on the task force have made Myles compromisable and easy to work with as long as you're compromisable and easy to work with as well. He is often sticking his neck out for the team, even if he can drive Clemens to contemplating sticking his head in the sand at times, with many of his off the wall remark and ideas.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Clever as he may be Myles has a quick sense of humor as well, though he also comes off as slightly easy to pushover if you're a friend and have earned his trust. Sadly because of circumstances in his lifetime, he cannot so easily extend being a walking mat to strangers any more.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He often also considers the health of the team by offering cheap bonding nights, like playing board games or quick games of charades. Though sometimes those can also fall into games that involve alcohol and blacking out. Not that he's an addict, but some members like to add alcohol to the game to spice up the boredom of the boring choices he has available.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He likes to read, and can often geek out with various mechanics and computer nerds about technology. While he's always been a self teacher and self learner, easily being able to direct himself in his actions, but lacks any of the lone wolf arrogance that comes along with it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Personality Flaws:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Most of the time Myles is off lost in his paranoid delusions. To be fair, Myles could have turned out to be a boring person. One with his little traffic cop job, who followed the rules, hadn't even ever had a parking ticket his whole entire life. Who built all of his misery and rage inside, by being a completely and totally pushover.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But fate had different plans for Myles, thrust into a car accident, and then framed for the murder of another cop that he had no part of. Then been thrown into jail shortly after, there's something about those sequence of events that makes someone like Myles crack.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Oh and boy has Myles cracked. The stress of the situation drove him to his current headspace. All that built up rage, all the built up frustrations and pent up energy has boiled over. Into homicidal benders, into paranoid delusions, into suspicions of the outside world.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Yeah he rarely leaves Scrap Inc. unless it's for a mission or he's doing it for his Aunt and Uncle in Law who want to see him or want to hear him doing something else other than plotting his next web of revenge. And all of his time as a cop has given him a warped sense of justice due to his cracked mind.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He sees his actions as just and will find ways of justifying how it was so. While he has always thrown caution out to the wind, the only thing that would be satisfying to him now is to find the cops who framed him and end their lives like they tried to end his.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]While he can't do that until he finds them, he'll punish those scum and cheats on the streets instead. Because he's done with an oppressive system that tried to force him into compliance, when he became a victim because he complied too much.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He's your typical tin hat wearing conspiracy paranoid turret programmer.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Misc Information:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]DOB - August 29th[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Despite his Paranoia, he seems to have slightly gotten better over the years due to his relationship with Kimmy O[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]History:[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]I grew up believing the world was good and that I could inherently ignore the problems of the world, if I had a good heart and a good conscious. Except what they never tell you is that isn't always true and when reality strikes, a rare moment like getting hit by lightning, and all the morality of good, evil seems to fade.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The real world is a far more blurred ethical morality than that. I wish I had seen that long ago, but I suppose they tried to shield me from reality for as long as they could. Before the curtains were drawn, the gig was up, and you see the flashes of your life flash before you as your brain chemistry bathes you in brain chemical death.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]I was born on August 29th, I know now it was a fairly miserable:[/BCOLOR]

Hi I'm History and I am Still Being Updated But TLDR

[BCOLOR=transparent]Can't Love with a Steel Heart[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]She looked exhausted, drained with sweat, hair matted, eyes closed. They'll say things like the mother looked like an angel, or she was glowing proudly. Some bullshit like that to cover up the reality that the mother had just bleed all over the sheets, shat herself, or perhaps pissed herself. He wasn't entirely sure of which one was which because he wasn't here for the kids birth. He was called out onto the beat, and he certainly wasn't about to pull over at the hospital while Cisco was having one of his god damn breakdowns again.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What if we get caught, Ryan"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When cops started acting like that, it was best to put them down and out of their misery before it was too late and they dragged you down the rabbit hole to ironland.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Today, according to his chief, was suppose to be a momentous occasion. His first kid with the woman you love, but Ryan Whatley already knew you couldn't love someone with a steel heart. Angela and him were incompatible she was sick of his lifestyle. Sick of him coming home late, not bathing her enough in affection. It wasn't like she was begging for a ridiculous amount of affection, he simply had grown bitter over the years. Her quirks became annoyances.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]So when she stirred awake there wasn't a glint in her green irises, not a sheer amount of love. He wondered if she could see that his love for her had faded as well. To some it was a harsh comparison to compare someone to a new phone, but the magic had faded. Now the dynamic of their relationship had changed with the birth of their son.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I wasn't expecting you to loom over my bed side." she told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Wasn't looming." Ryan responded hoarsely.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah that's what I thought." Angela retorted.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan merely rolled his eyes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"The kids healthy?" Ryan asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Angela stared at him.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yes, he is." Angela replied.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She did this thing with her fingers when she wanted to bring something up, but didn't have the gall to do so wringing her fingers around each other.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Even if he goaded she didn't have the balls to say what she wanted to say.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Did you name him already?" Ryan asked, instead changing the subject because he knew he'd only get frustrated with her if he tried to get her to say anything.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She looked away from him, staring at the wall. Before looking back.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Clara and I went with Myles." Angela responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Of course her sister went with the names of Myles. He had been absent for most of the naming discussions, her and Clara sat next to each other and write a list of names. They'd leave them on the table, and his sister would bark [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]"it's not right she keeps you out of these things. Complains you're never around, but never includes you."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Lauren had a good heart, really did, but the truth was more complicated than that. Ryan had made himself scarce most of the time. He had hoped, perhaps prayed that the dynamic of their ever devolving relationship wouldn't have changed drastically. It did. A crowning heir in a bassinet next to Angela's beside looking bewildered and lost as to how it got here.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Lauren been around yet?" Ryan asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Angela flinched and looked away. Ryan nodded getting the picture, he was a detective not an idiot.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You asked her not to come." Ryan continued without Angela needing to say a word.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Your sister is very judgmental Ryan." Angela responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So is yours." Ryan retorted.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Nowhere near as Lauren. She kept trying to give me advice because she carried before me. As if one kid makes her more of an expert than Clara." Angela told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan ignored her justifications and turned to Myles. Who was asleep, red, small, fidgeting with his hands and feet as he turned in his dreams. This was one of those moments you know the one that's suppose to shed away all the animosity. The one that makes everyone forgive each other for their sins. Broken love.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan made nearly a sound between a grunt and a groan.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles Powers Whatley?" Ryan asked staring at the wrist bracelet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Angela picked at the sheets.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thought, it was cute." Angela muttered to herself.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Cute, huh." Ryan responded with an airy sigh.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A Garden of Steel Roses[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]It wasn't always this way with Angela, that's what he was thinking to himself as Angela struggled to get Myles foot into a sock. He refused to do any of the heavy lifting with the toddler. Angela looked exhausted, tired, then again so was he.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When he first met Angela, she use to sit behind a desk taking phone calls. She wasn't a cop, but a secretary. She was beautiful back then too. Blond hair, green irises, pale, but olive skin which lead to conflicting guesses of her ethnicity. Use to wear more makeup then too. He was certain she loved him back then more than she did now.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His promotions made her suspicious, the late night activities made her suspicious. She raised a brow every time one of his buddies ended up getting caught for corruption in the force. But he spent most of the time assuring her suspicions were merely suspicions. Which caused bantering about who was telling the truth or not, despite Ryan knowing the truth.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How hard is it to get one sock on the kids foot." Ryan finally grunted, seemed his patients had worn thin as she fought Myles.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She threw the sock at him instead, looking at him with frustration in her eyes. She didn't trust him any more. He didn't care any more. Mostly because she never put any effort into it any more. They were going to Lauren's anniversary dinner with her husband, their daughter older than their son, and Angela hadn't done much.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Put up her hair, put a light smattering of makeup and didn't even dawn something nice to wear. Not a black cocktail dress, not a high heel. She just looked flat, like the muted colors of a painting. It pissed him off sometimes that she didn't even try for him any more. He made sure she knew she looked frumpy and ugly today.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan ignored her and snapped his fingers.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles sit on the couch," he barked, but didn't even give the kid a chance to saunter over. Instead he grabbed him by his wrist and dragged the two year to the couch by the wrist towards the couch. Angela glared at him, "You're never stern with him."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You don't drag him by his arm!" she exclaimed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles new favorite word was no, thanks to the influence of other kids. And he have the time, nor the patients to fight Myles. Myles knew all too better as well that he didn't, because when he saw the sock he thrust his foot out immediately to sleeve the bare left foot.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"See what happens when you put the foot down." Ryan told her. Angela rolled her eyes, and brought out her arms to get Myles to come to her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles did saunter over to her eventually and put his feet into the shoes without much struggle. Couldn't Angela see his way was the better way.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Couldn't she admit he was better than her at this. Everything he did was wrong and all she did was coddle him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Rusted Hearts[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Lauren Marigold - Residency[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Children weren't meant to be packaged and shipped off to someone else. She was staring at Myles next to her daughter, they were two years apart and she wasn't sure how she was going to break the news to her husband.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dawson grumbled, but he was the type of man to roll over for the ones he loved more so than Ryan. Angela and Ryan's divorce was not unexpected news, anyone could see the disdain they had for each other. It grew, the rift between them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gouging further and further apart, she tried to warn Angela, tried to help Angela, but Angela always thought she was being condescending and critical. She warned her about marrying her older brother. She warned her about falling in love with him, having a kid with him. Till it ended up in a breaking point. Which lead to here, in this moment.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For whatever reasons Lauren was unsure of, Angela gave all her custody of Myles to Ryan. Ryan dumped Myles off to her house and asked her if they'd be willing to watch Myles partly on the weekdays while he worked. She didn't have time to answer, before he left, said he had a call.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles," Lauren called out to the boy staring out the window, swinging his legs, "How about we take your coat off?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Daddy?" Myles asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Lauren took a second looking at Courtney then back at Myles, bending down, grabbing the boy's hands.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"He's at work sweetheart," Lauren told him softly, "You'll be here with us for a while. You understand a lot of things are changing for you."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles merely nodded. Honestly, the poor thing should have never been born into this world by the people he had to call parents. She wanted to do some right for him, perhaps she could steer him into the right direction. Her life as a journalist had allowed her to see people from all walks of life, perhaps all she needed to do was change the course of Myles' life. Be a better person than Ryan.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Uncle Dawson should be home soon." Lauren told him, "How about you go play with Courtney for now?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles nodded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Can we color?" Myles asked.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"What a wonderful idea!" Lauren exclaimed, "I'll get the coloring books and the markers."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dawson sitting in his armchair was staring at Lauren sitting across from him. She wanted to what now? Ryan dumped his kid at his house, after the divorce, and hopping the kid back and forth between babysitters. If he was any other man he'd probably tell Lauren, No. Tell her brother to fuck off and take care of his own damn kid.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But he had his suspicions about Ryan. Lauren was waiting for his answer, while he was deliberating his answer. Of course he was worried about how this would impact Courtney, of course he worried about what it do to his finances. But Dawson nodded his head slowly. Those things came with time he supposed, time and exposure.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So for the weekdays." Dawson repeated, "Okay we can do this. We can try to do this." Lauren lit up. Dawson smiled, he could see there was great relief on her face. Her posture began to relax and she smiled at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles needs us." Lauren repeated.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]That he could agree with. Ever since he met Ryan on the day of their wedding he had his suspicions about the man. Man seemed to hold a lot of disdain for the world, the people in it, and seemed to somehow disapprove of Lauren and his relationship.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dawson was merely a professor at Singular City University, he taught computer programming and computer science. He knew Myles, like Courtney maybe more than Courtney would need a lot of love and attention. Also be given a drive that keep him from pursuing destructive avenues in the long run. Could they undo the three years that child lived under a umbrella of animosity? Perhaps with enough time and effort.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was willing to put in that time and effort because of the relationship Myles had to his wife. It be different if it was one of Lauren's exs or a long time friend who was going through a rough patch. But because Myles was such direct blood, he could at least try to put in that time and effort.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A Single Revolving Disc[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]They were gathered around the family dinner table, Ryan was slowly beginning to come less and less these days. He was becoming a shadow of Myles life, but a father was not really the word for their relationship. Dawson was looking between his two children, it was weird to admit that.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Eleven years, and in those eleven years only three weeks ago Myles slipped and called him father. It was a weird slip of the tongue and the boy seemed terribly embarrassed, but Dawson let it go. Even encouraged it. If it could completely phase Ryan out of their lives for good, so be it. He was tired of dealing with that man and his cynicism.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"How your test go?" Dawson asked Myles.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Good, I think." Myles responded.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles scrunched up his face in that way that made Dawson know the boy wasn't really satisfied with his answer.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Something wrong?" Dawson asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No. Not really." Myles responded. Dawson raised a brow, but turned his attentions to Courtney.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I got nothing." Courtney responded sardonically, "School's a drag. My best friend cheated on me dating my ex. And life is horrible in the mind of a teenage girl."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Where did she ever get that sense of humor? Dawson smiles and laughs though.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh all right," Dawson told her, "But you can't always get away with a sarcastic answer."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Well, between me and you. Mom and I have the same equipment, you and I don't. So you're not going to be able to give me the same advice as Mom." Courtney retorted.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I've dated in my lifetime and I can give advice." Dawson told her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Uh eww, no. And second off, you don't have the womanly heart. I want to be wooed with tales of hopeless romanticism. Not whatever you think is dating advice." Courtney told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Where is Lauren?" Myle asked, he turned bright pink unsure at this point how to address them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Work, she had an interview today," Dawson paused, "It's okay Myles. Call us whatever you like."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles merely fidgeted with his fork, not sure how to respond. Instead he stared at his plate before looking back at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Can I go to my room?" Myles asked quietly, "I have a lot of homework left to do."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Dawson stared at the boy, nodded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Sure. Go ahead." Dawson told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles slipped off his chair, took his plate, ducked behind a wall into the kitchen and disappeared from view. While Dawson looked at Courtney. Who looked back at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah I am not helping you here dad." Courtney told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Just wanted him to be comfortable." Dawson told her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Courtney just went back to her plate with a tilt of her head in a mocking tone, as she began to scoop up food with her fork. Dawson merely went back to his plate of food as well. Leaving the dining room empty and quiet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Return of Steel Hearts and Cogs for Brains[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Graduating from the academy should have been an uplifting experience. He should have felt more independent. His own apartment. His first assignment on the task force, SPCD just like his father. Working right next to him, well their departments were right next to each other.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The rest of the cops and graduating students seemed testy. Even gave him a nickname he was starting to consider was an insult, not a complimentary nickname you'd give a friend. It was the single most disheartening thing to consider, that he worked just as hard. Only to be laughed at. Not much ahdn't changed transitioning from school to the department, but he was ready nonetheless to start on the beat in uniform.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Coming into the precinct in uniform, felt like the single, most universally powerful feeling. Except most were looking at him. Most being those in his class or those who had been here a lot longer than him. My father is Lead Detective Ryan Whatley didn't earn a single ounce of praise or awe. It earned looks, some nervous, others cautious.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"There you are," a rough, hoarse, dry voice called out to him in the hallway. Myles turned around, to see a man in a worn coat, a button down shirt, with unkempt hair and an unkempt beard. There were stains on his shirt, his father already noticed he noticed, so he covered up the stains with his coat that seemed too small on a man who had grown fat over the years. His badge with his name Ryan Whatley on it was scratched, dented, and well used.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Detective." Myles greeted his father, in what felt like the right away. You didn't call him father at the office, did you?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah yeah detective," Ryan merely gave him a wavering hand gesture and dragged him aside, "Look, talked to the chief and I got you some leeway. Considering my position and the years in the force. Since you're my kid and all. Got you an important job."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles felt butterflies in his stomach and it wasn't excitement. It was nervousness, anxiety. Graduating from the academy was suppose to be the single most liberating thing in his life. But his father's touch was rough. His father's eyes were cold and callous.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Most important job?" Myles asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan nodded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah, got the chief to assign you, your own zone. Got you a traffic officer job on the west bank street. Lots of cars going in and out, should never be boring." Ryan told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles was stiff. At nineteen he didn't know how to react to the job he was being assigned. There was a bit of optimism, perhaps hope. Perhaps he ideally believed that maybe he'd prove himself as a traffic cop and work his way up like everybody else did.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"That sounds really great," Myles told Ryan with a smile, "So I was thinking that we could catch up tonight. You didn't come to my graduation, I figured you were busy. So we could celebrate after my first shift?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan tapped him on the shoulder.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"That sounds great tiger, glad you like your new job." Ryan told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Why did this man feel like a stranger to him? Why did it not feel the way he had hoped it feel? Traffic Officer, while the others who graduated were to be officers, working with a mentor. But his father talked to the chief.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They really needed someone to direct traffic and stop the illegal traffic law breaking in the west bank corridor street. Yet Myles had hoped for more. Why had all his dreams been about Singular City detectives using forensic clues, catchy narratives, and nice suits? Yet, that's not what traffic officers did.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]His first day as a traffic cop didn't seem so bad. One of the officers who had been working there for a long time, taught him how to read the meters and write the tickets. It wasn't so bad, it was a start. Everyone had to start somewhere, is what he told himself to get through it. Sure it was disappointing, but even the officer on the western corridor street told him no one stays a traffic officer for long.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They decided on a Eastern restaurant, except that Ryan was late. So he was sitting outside for thirty minutes, promising a man named Chong he was going to to come inside as soon as the person he was waiting for showed up.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was finally yelled at either he needs to stop loitering or be a customer. So he was sitting inside now. Stalling by taking an exceptionally long time reading the menu. The waitresses were starting to get annoyed with him. At first he thought the silhouette of a person was another waitresses and if that was the case he'd just get up to leave.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But sitting across from him was Ryan.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Sorry had to deal with a bust." Ryan grumbled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"It's okay. They might rush you to order." Myles mumbled quietly, feeling a heat of embarrassment.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Chong, nah he knows better." Ryan told him, "Did you order yet?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No. I was waiting for you." Myles responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan merely groaned out a barking laugh that sounded like a sick dog.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Angela use to wait for me. You'll learn not to. Order whenever you want, if I come in the middle of your meal tough nuts. Am I right?" Ryan asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Was trying to be respectful."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan rolled his eyes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"First rule about being an officer, detective. Respect is for bitches."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles felt his own heart racing. Myles merely smiled.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Guess I am still new to the lifestyle." Myles joked with a laugh.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan raised a brow.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So congratulations for graduating." Ryan responded haphazardly.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thanks." Myles muttered taking a sip of his water.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What made decide to become a cop? Knowing Dawson and Lauren, they thought you'd become some scientist or something. Heard you were smart like that."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I….wanted to chose my own path." Myles replied.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan again gave a skeptical shrug and clapped his hands calling one of the waitresses over. She looked over to Myles who she had been giving a hard time to since now, but it was the first time she actually looked cautious instead.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I am so sorry sir, I did not know this was who you were waiting for," the waitresses told him with a cautious bow.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"No you were doing your job. I am sorry I was loitering you had every right to be annoyed with me." Myles told her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But she edged a cautious gaze at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"What can I get you both?" the waitresses asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"My usual, for the kid too." Ryan told her, practically shooing her away with a hand gesture, "Anyway. All grown up now. Huh. How old are you?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Nineteen." Myles responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Already nineteen, practically an adult. The last time I remembered you, you were this tiny." Ryan made a height gesture with his hands.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Because the last time you saw me I was that tiny." Myles muttered.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Sorry kid, I got busy," Ryan told him, "I sent you gifts."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Then he stopped sending them. But maybe Myles was being too ungrateful. Ryan was busy, had a job, had important things to do. Maybe it was too much to expect him to be around often. But then, what about the holidays and Christmas? No that was unfair too.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]People deserved the right to be protected even on the holidays. Was he selfish? Perhaps he was, he was only a child then and never understood his father's work beside an embellished story on the news and embellished stories in the movies.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thank you," Myles told Ryan with another smile, "I appreciated them."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Steel Hearts and Steel Minds[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]He'd thought the kid would have given up by now. Five years after graduating and he continued serving the community via parking tickets. Still it was useful for him because it meant that his civilian vehicles were no longer treated with much threat or suspicions because Myles was a "good boy".[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He loved his sister, but she replaced that boys balls with a vag just like her fucking husband Dawson. Myles had no backbone, or spine, or maybe it was that the boy was very good at hiding his anger. Very good at it. All that was going to do was make that boy split down the middle like fucking humpty dumpty.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan sighed leaning back on his chair. He was watching outside the windows of his office, Myles wandering around. Yellow vest, with Traffic in silver, reflective letters. Most found it amusing, Ryan's chief did not. Chief Hughes praised that boy all too often. Same bullshit, different age. People saw how hard Myles worked and they admired it about that boy. Coddled him that it was okay to be the layabout pussy that he was.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]But Ryan played the good father. Trying to install the harsh lessons of reality into Myles before that sunny outlook harmed him.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan groaned and got up from his chair. Kid was at the water cooler, filling up his empty bottle with water before going out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles." Ryan called out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles turned around looking at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Detective Ryan, I was about to head." Myles told him. Even their relationship was changing Ryan could feel that same rift being created that began to divide him and Angela apart.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I noticed," Ryan began, "Just wanted to give you a warning to be safe out there. There's a dangerous android on the loose. They put out an APB."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thank you." Myles said quietly.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gotta look out for my kid." Ryan smiles, but it's not a natural emotion for him and Myles merely nods before walking past him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ungrateful little snot wasn't he. If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't have had a loving family to dote on him the way they did. Ryan could have done anything else, throw the kid into a foster program, through the kid out on the street.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Instead he gave him the most loving family he knew. Gave him a comfy job too. Stuck out his neck for him. Sure, it benefited him to have the slowly naive easy to manipulate kid on the streets issuing traffic, but he also did it to benefit Myles too.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Not even a thank you.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Detective!" Ryan turned to see who was being addressed. He saw another detective, Foster, heading his way.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah." Ryan grumbled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"We were called for the android case. Find the son a bitch and put a rein down on its terror." Foster told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Got it." Ryan nodded firmly.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]If it wasn't pop media hysteria, then it was rain. It was the defining features of Singular City, in his opinion. Rain began to come down on them, he had his windshield wipers swept back and forth fast. Slicking rain off of his front window.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Foster and him didn't talk too much. Foster was the typical cop, came from a family who beat down and shaken down enough criminals that there was a clear dividing line between someone who was a soldier before they were a cop. And those who were just cops first.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Foster annoyed him much in the same a rat tells the names of his allies in order to stay out of jail. Foster was too good for his own good. If he knew better, if he knew simply to stay out of business then he would live a long, professional career. Foster hardly ever listened to that advice. Even after telling him several goddamn times he was going to find out the wrong secret and get hurt.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Of course it really all in the end boiled down to him not being caught. And Foster not to catch onto him. Foster was younger than him, Ryan was already pushing fifty-one. Foster was in his thirties, practically raised the beat cop he was after Foster's father retired, sprightly, young, lean, well built. Went for jogs every morning sort of deal. Foster hair was black and wispy, like it was made of cotton candy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Also a quick thinker and easy to pick up on lies. But Foster ignored him most of the time. Stared out the window. Didn't have a lick of respect for his superiors it seemed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ryan." Foster spoke for the first time in a long time, the best way Ryan could describe Foster's voice was like that peeling paint off the walls. It cracked, but not from its pitch, merely it was crackly and dry. Like he needed a good glass of water, but knowing Foster he was probably already well hydrated.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah Foster." Ryan grumbled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Can I level with you?" Foster asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Depends on what we're leveling." Ryan retorted.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Foster didn't laugh and neither did he really.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Cute, but in long run futile," Foster responded slowly, "Can you tell me why you're wasting that kids talents?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan stared out the window, rain beating down hard.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gonna have to be more specific," Ryan paused, "Which kid we're talking about. Because you're a kid to me. And there are some kids in the precinct."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Foster sighed with what sounded like slight irritation.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Myles, met him on a traffic run," Foster paused taking a second, he cleared his throat like what was that going to do for him, "Smart kid. The kid kid be used down in forensics, or even make a good detective. He's got the skillset. He's a little nervous, but that could be iron out. And you begged the chief to keep him as a traffic officer. A kid that smart, doesn't deserve that kind of position."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan bit his lip. This is why he didn't like being assigned positions with Foster. He was always asking too many damn questions, not enough minding his own business.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Foster, I don't need to explain shit to you. Myles is my kid. How do you think it feels knowing my kiddo could be gunned down like your father was gunned down?" he wasn't going to play catch with Foster, he was going to throw a big fast, hard hook to him verbally to shut him down.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was a twitch to one of Foster's eyebrows.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ryan you don't care about that. I seen the way you treat that boy he's like gum on the bottom of your shoe." Foster retorted.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He threw it back into his court. Fuck you Foster.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Fine you caught me. He is gum on my shoe." Ryan told Foster, "Been trying to scrape it off for fucking years. It won't come off. Won't leave me alone. Should have went into a nice job, something like the stupid computer science shit Dawson was trying to get him into. Instead he has to follow me around and wonder, why the hell I stopped contacting him less and less the older he got. Because he was unfuckingwanted."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Foster shook his head.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Some could say the same about you on the force. You and your band are up to no good Ryan. I will uncover the truth." Foster told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"My band. We're good cops. You're just sour you never got that promotion you were promised. Well so the fuck what, man the fuck up, and shut the fuck up Foster. It's not that you aren't a good detective. I'm just better."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He saw Foster's eyebrow twitch again, he actually had managed to irritate Foster who tapped the glove box.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"This is the location." Foster said, "Bastards probably trying to hide. Knowing we're onto him."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan didn't say anything, he eagerly got out of the car. The less he had to talk to Foster the better. Unholstering his gun, how hard was it to take in another illegal android. Had done it countless times before. He had never admitted his thoughts to someone else before. He often kept quiet about it. Myles should have already caught on. Should have been smart enough to know that when he cut off all contact he was done being dad.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When Myles was fourteen, and slowly growing older Ryan figured the kid could do without him. Should do without him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They crouched at the back entrance of the building. Foster taking point being, well let's face it the more athletic. Opening the door, the two of them walked into the empty warehouse. Fuck this was creepy. He could never get use to old, dark, abandoned buildings with plenty of places to hide.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Covering Foster's rear he didn't say much. He wasn't the type to play the hero. He'd have Foster take the android down and have Foster gunned down in action. Only way to keep his dirt. Foster was asking too much. He told him that mouth of his would get him killed someday.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]Cybernetics, he was never so sure they were entirely the bad guys. He had met kids with cybernetics before, some of them seemed more like they had fallen on hard times than they seemed ladened criminals. Except there were a few that were also ladened criminals.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was the androids you had to worry about. Crazed machinery that could snap a man in half. He was hoping Foster could put at least a bullet down into it. He'd come the hero as he had always done so in the past before.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When the shots first rang out, Ryan hadn't entirely registered them, but as is brain came back up to speed so did his trigger finger. He locked sights with Foster, Foster was drawing back. Foster knew better to tango with a half crazed android with no humanity left.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"We're going to have to get backup." Foster told Ryan from across the warehouse, but he was keeping the android in his sights, as well as trying to back away quickly.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was then the both of them heard the roaring of some engine from the distance. It wasn't backup, but sounded like another vehicle was coming up to the build. Was it TACO, more SCPD? They hadn't called for backup, or had they finally realized the stupidity of bringing two Detectives to go capture a crazed android.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan and Foster decided it was best at this moment to draw back. Damn it all to hell. His luck was just not having it tonight. Foster meet his maker some day. He'd make sure of it, that Foster be backstabbed some day.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]**[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]He didn't think though he'd be the one being stabbed in the back. More literally than metaphorically. The first vehicle was the android's backup, apparently they were waiting for someone else. Not them. Bullets ripped through the warehouse, tearing it apart.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He didn't know how in the hell Foster made it, but Ryan's button shirt was stained with his blood. It's weird when you get shot you don't even notice, but when you can't move as well then it becomes more real. Scrap Inc. huh some shady cybernetic bastards, as they say. He'd never had the knowledge that Scrap Inc. be important to his life and legacy in more ways than one.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The bullet ripped straight through his spine, tore a hole into his gut. He was sure of that. He was instead staring at a very gruff looking man who called himself fucking Gallows. Funniest damn fucking thing he's heard all his life. He and Foster were pulled out in the nick of time. As Scrap Inc. tore apart the androids like they were made of paper-mache.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He never saw himself here. All his enemies all the people who go against him, sure. But not him lying on the ground, coat soaked in rain and blood, staring at the heavens. Ryan groaned. He knew he'd never make it, but turned to the man who helped him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Humor me. What's the prognosis." Ryan asked. Foster was back at the cop car, calling for backup, calling it in. Was he the one who shot him in the back or was it the androids? Ryan wondered if Foster was even capable of doing so, betraying someone that is.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gallows had taken his helmet off, busted as it was from deflecting the force of the android's hand gun. He'd have to repair it later, but for now he was stuck rooting through the insides of a dying cop. He looked as the dying man began talking to him, asking for a diagnosis.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Well sir, you appear to have a terminal case of fucked, with a capital Jesus Christ. You probably can't feel it, but I'm currently sticking my hands into your gut with a sensor." Gallows allowed himself a little of his namesake humor. The rain diluted the expanding pool of crimson blood around him, and the way the neon lights around him reflected off the surface almost fooled him into thinking he was just in a rain puddle. The only thing betraying it was the smell, the iron edged, slightly sweet smell of a dying person losing control of their bowels in their last moments. Nothing he could do about it, just part of the job.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"A'ight then, first of all the shot entered from an upwards angle, nicking your renal artery. That alone would've given us ten minutes."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan kind of laughs.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Just leave it there. For me, while I still have some breath left? Don't waste it while I am dying, do it during the autopsy. Can I ask two questions? Do I even have two questions?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I wasn't finished. your left lung's ruptured. It's a miracle your even talking. Even worse, the reason you can't really feel anything below your stomach is 'cause the bullet shattered your right pelvis, before exiting explosively out your back. That took a out a few of your vertebrae. None of those by them selves would have been troublesome, but when added together. Well, given the rate of blood exiting your body, you've got about 3 minutes before you exsanguinate, and maybe a minute before you start choking on blood." Gallows said, as he pulled his glove clad hands out of the man's internal cavity.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan choked, but managed another laugh.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You got kids?" Ryan asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"A niece"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan smiles.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You love her?" Ryan asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"With all my heart."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Ryan laughs a bit, its not easy to do, it hurts, but then it doesn't. Somewhere in a semi blind between the both of them.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You say that now. But if you had a lover. That little parasited bastard steal all her attention away. If I'd known better, I should have stolen the love from the parasite instead of trying to get my lover back."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gallows' eyes hardened a bit, but held the words back in his throat. Stealing love away from a lover? What lover? It was only him and Vivian, and no one else. And the bastard thought they were the same, the was what made him so angry. That he thought that everyone was the same, just assuming that everyone thought like him. But Gallows' kept quiet, and let the dying man have his last rant.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Had a child once. Worse decision of my life. I wanted the ideal. A woman waiting for me at home, with a loving smile. All I got was paranoia, distrust, and then a fucking baby. To say the least I was disappointed in all three things in my life. Guess...huh...I am going to hell.." he tried to laugh, but coughed instead. Breaths becoming shallow. Perhaps it was merely because he had the last strength to say what he needed to say that was pushing him on, and the last words Gallow heard him speak were, "I fucking hate you all." before he expired.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Big Daddy, got a spoiled Tortilla by me, gonna need a mop. Over."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Gallows, message received. Over."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Big Daddy, also we need new codenames. Out"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Glancing at the chilling corpse at his feet one last time, Gallows memorized his ID tag, Looking away, he pulled out a small hose from his pack and began washing the blood from his armor. He'd have to check up the guy's kid, make sure he was alright[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Spoiled tortilla? Well he wouldn't say he was fond of Ryan, but the callous calm of the man over Ryan's body struck out to Foster as an odd man. More than likely military considering the callousness.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Spoiled tortilla, not going to say I have heard that before," Foster said, "Ryan Whatley. I can't say I want him to rest in peace, but you know respect for the dead 'n all that. Unless I want him haunting me to my grave."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"The only dead that haunt are in nightmares and memories, and 'sides 50%'s close enough if you round up." Gallows replied in his mutt of accents, purposely composed to obscure his nationality. There was a hint of German, a slash of Spanish, a dollop of Received Pronunciation, all wound tightly around a core of Southern drawl that lilted in contrast to the gruff and slightly raspy sound that spilled from his lips.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The hiss of water splashing against titanium-ceramic and cloth faded as Gallows turned off the small hose in his pack.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So who was he?" He asked the still-breathing .officer[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Ryan Whatley," Foster frowned, "To be honest, I only have ill things to say about the dead. I was under investigation of some corrupt cops. He's been running a little band, I'd say, about 20 years ago. And believe me when I say I don't how a man could get away with so much. He was more a crime king pin then he was cop even if he denies it, I know I can uncover the truth about him. His ex is Angela Burrow. And his son is Myles Whatley, he's a traffic cop you'd probably seen around the west bank street. On the west sector."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"His kid's an adult?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"A little, he talked as if he was born recently."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"More like came back into his life recently. From what I understand, he left the kid with his family and stopped coming by to see the kid. Kid becomes a cop, sees the kid everyday simple reminder of the woman he loved, but hated"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"...sounds kinda fucked up." Gallows replied, looking around for the Scrap Inc. Transport.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Whole situation was a mess. How old is your little bugger?" Foster asked.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Still a baby,"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Darling. Mines baking." Foster smiled, he saw the police cars and pointed, "That's me. Nice talking to you....uh Gallows, was it? Foster Little."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'll remember it." Gallows replied as the armored form of the Scraps Inc truck rumbled it's way into view on his side.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Electric Jelly[/BCOLOR]​

[BCOLOR=transparent]It wasn't getting easier. With Ryan dead. Now there were more looks, even after a year they all could still feel the impact of Ryan's death. Even more concerning to him was the dirty secrets piling onto a pyramid of dirty secrets. Ryan the good cop, Ryan the fake cop.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As more information was coming out of an investigation. They asked him some questions, the chief asked him to take some time during it. Now he was back on the job. Sticking tickets under window shields and hoping no one was going to take their day out on him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Woman in yoga pants, coming out kick boxing class only to yell at him for giving them a ticket because their class got out late. Younger woman throwing their sexuality at him to get away from a ticket, sometimes the opposite young men throwing their sexuality at him just in case he swung that way. He was going to be turning twenty-five in two months.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Slapping a ticket on another window, he heard someone call out, "Hey you can't give me this."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was going to have to explain the laws again and as he turned around he saw it was Courtney. She smiled at him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"We're family after all." Courtney told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Isn't that like the line someone spews when they have to ask someone for a small favor because they work in the law. Like you have to pay for car repairs, or something like that." Myles teased her, Courtney smiled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Nothing like that. Wanted to see how you were doing." Courtney told him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh, so you heard." Myles responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yes I did." Courtney responded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles didn't say anything, Courtney frowned at her traffic ticket. He looked around the other cars before turning back to Courtney.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"It's been a year. Nothing really to say about it." Myles told her.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"About Ryan's death. Sure there's a lot to say about his death."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Not fondly. Besides I am harassed enough by the force investigating me. How could I have been so blind to his corruption?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You weren't blind. Mislead. Let me feed the meter, can you do lunch?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Myles frowned, but nodded.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Sure I can do lunch. Will I do lunch that's inherently a different question."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Don't be an ass. I am being nice. I came down from my job to see you."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Oh I feel special then."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"You should."[/BCOLOR]

Theme Song:

 

[RJS]

Felipe 'El Toro' Navarro
28
Formerly of Los Locos 22

Skills
Major
Forced Entry: If it's locked, sealed or blocked off, Felipe has a knack of finding his way into it. Smashed windows, kicked in doors, crudely rewired electronics - he's used them all in his time as an enforcer, and those he comes to visit have nowhere safe to hide.

Street brawler: Whilst not what you would call 'classically trained' in the art of fighting, Felipe has a brutal and straightfowards style of fighting that serves him well when supported by his strength.

Bigger is better: Felipe only rarely resorted to using projectile weaponry during his time as an enforcer, but when he did it was usually something that made a statement; that statement usually being that the person on the receiving end would be reduced to a fleshy paste by a hail of lead, fire, or whatever else he could get his hands on. As such, he can use heavy weapons such as machine guns and miniguns more effectively than most.

Minor

Intimidating presence: There's something about Felipe that makes people inclined to accede to requests. Being both noticeably tall and bulky, Felipe also exudes an aura that he isn't used to asking twice, and has left a trail of significant injuries behind him to back up that viewpoint.

Perceptive: During his time waiting for his implants, Felipe became accustomed to life being blind, and his hearing and other senses sharpened as the brain acclimatised to its new situation. His optic implants enable infrared and ultraviolet vision as well, making Felipe much more alert to his surroundings than most other people.

Knows a guy: Maintaining ties to Los Locos 22, Felipe can glean bits of information from those hackers who hangout on their turf. Depending on who happens to be in, he can even pull a few strings, call in a few favours, and get some of the most skilled tech-junkies working for him. As such, he can gain access to information that isn't entirely public domain.

Traits

Strong as an Ox: The clue is in the name, but Felipe is as strong as they come in terms of pure physical power. Capable of manhandling people with ease, some of the smaller ones with one hand. He has also been known to drag several parked vehicles to produce a crude roadblock, and is capable of inflicting major injuries should his fist hit someone.

Juiced to the eyeballs: The potent cocktail of drugs he takes makes him resistant to pain, sharper and more alert, and generally more effective than he was pre-medication. As a result he can shrug off blows and wounds that would impair most people.

Addict: During his time in Los Locos 22, Felipe got hooked on several different substances including steroids, amphetamines and opiates. Should he go too long without a hit, Felipe will become agitated, aggressive and erratic, as well as suffering progressively more severe withdrawal symptoms. Though he has a regular supplier, drug dealing is not the safest of professions.

This also carries a converse risk as well. Though he may appear to be controlling his 'self-medication', in fact the amount he takes can vary significantly depending on mood, and he runs the perpetual risk of overdosing.

Weapons:
'The Bitch': Felipe's pet name for the light machine gun he carries as if it were an assault rifle. Though he isn't the most accurate, the large magazine and the high rate of fire allow him to lay down a hail of 5.56mm rounds, eviscerating most things that get in the way.

'The Big Bastard': Felipe saves this one for a special occasion. A minigun with shortened barrels and a crudely affixed stand to allow Felipe to brace it against the floor; strictly reserved for jobs where Felipe expects to mow down a lot of people.
Fists: No weapon? No problem! Felipe is just as comfortable fighting bare-handed where his strength can really show itself.

Augmentations
Eye prostheses: Felipe lost his sight when he got jumped by some junkies with machetes in an alleyway. He subsequently went to a Rigger and acquired some new ones, capable of IR and UV vision as well as normal wavelengths of light.

Sub-dermal plating: While at the Rigger's shop, Felipe decided to invest in subdermal armour plating that covers most of his vital spots. Combined with his body armour, it makes landing a lethal shot incredibly difficult.


Personality
Blunt and crude, Felipe doesn't give a shit about playing buddies. He doesn't care for subtlety and says what he wants regardless of what others may think. In spite of this, he still cooperates well with those he does not like provided their aims are the same - he just doesn't care about fake buddy-buddy stuff. When the time comes to fight he is always found at the front, his enthusiasm carrying him to the forefront of the fight.

Despite his lack of tact, grace and friendliness, Felipe is actually more reliable than many, since he isn't the type of person to backstab someone behind a false veneer of friendship and cooperation. If Felipe comes along, you can rely on him to see it through to the end, even if there were times you would rather he weren't there.

Backstory
Felipe was born at the bottom of the bottom, in the lower levels of Singularity City. His mother was a common prostitute, his father some client of hers. Felipe grew up largely on his own, his mother being busy with her 'visitors', or getting absolutely blitzed in order to deal with it. Her close association with the Los Locos dealers meant Felipe invariably ran into them, and it wasn't long before he started helping out in order to have something to do. He started out running supplies to dealers from the central stocks, before graduating to peddle the wares himself. As he grow older and he began to bulk out, Felipe became one of their heavies - shaking down those junkies who failed to pay their dues and acquiring payment by whatever means necessary.

During his earlier career, several junkies objected to his treatment of them, and expressed it in the way of the language of the streets - machetes in the alley. Though he reduced them all to a bloody paste, he took several cuts to the eyes that blinded him during the fight. As a result he was forced to wait until a Rigger could have a look at him, during which time he adapted to a lack of vision.

Eventually he was called in for his operation. The eye prostheses, as well as several armour plates, were installed into his body. However, using black market Riggers always carries a risk. When he came around, he found himself in intense pain. The Rigger assured him it would recede, knocked a little off the price as compensation and then ushered him out the door.
Contrary to the Rigger's words, the pain did not, in fact, recede. Felipe turned to the most available remedy available to him to manage the pain - the drugs that ran through the Los Locos 22 like water through a stream. It started out just painkillers, then stimulants to counter the drowsiness he got from the painkillers, then steroids to prevent muscle wastage from the stimulants... it wasn't long before he was running on a potent cocktail of drugs to get through day to day life. It also didn't take him too long to find the Rigger and return the favour. If the black marketeer survived the beating Felipe dealt out, he would be left with lifelong pain. It seemed fitting.

Eventually, Felipe began to tire of the shakedowns. It was pathetic, the fact that none could even offer any resistance anymore. Bored of the sob stories and the pleas for more time, he separated from the group on somewhat-amiable terms, and made his way to Scrap Inc., seeking an actual challenge and a thrill.

 

[CasketCase]

NAME: Jude Cameron Clancy
CODENAME: Patchwork
AGE: 41
PREVIOUS AFFILIATION(s): Singularity City Police Department and Tactical Anti Cyber Unit

SKILLS
[Primary]
Marksman (Sniper Specialist)
For an unaugmented human, Jude's aim is frighteningly good, allowing him to take shots that would require specialized targeting systems before others would even be so confident as to even try. Perhaps it's why he hasn't bothered with the thought of augmentation, and perhaps why anyone would care to deal with him at all.

T.A.C.U. (Ten Year Veteran)
Experienced in taking on some of the worst technology has produced, Jude is well versed in dealing with illegal augmentations and war-tech cyborgs and androids. He can spot them, he can track them, and he can definitely take them. It's just a shame he burned so many bridges, or else he might have had a cushy desk job by now.

Mechanical and Electrical Knowledge (Hobbyist)
After years of blasting androids apart from afar, curiosity got the better of Jude, despite usually not caring about things. He initially reasoned it was to help him deal with such technology more efficiency, but in truth, he just wanted to know what made them tick. As a result, he has enough of an understanding to make common alterations and repairs on the fly. After all, how do you think he "befriended" Simo?

[Secondary]
CQC (T.A.C.U. Trained)
Sometimes things just don't go your way and you have to get your hands dirty, especially when it comes to homicidal androids and cyborgs. While he rarely employs the disarming and subduing techniques he learned during his time in the T.A.C.U., he's far from rusty.

Hacking (Swordfished)
As part of his hobby learning the mechanics behind androids and cybernetics, he learned the basics behind hacking enough to use it, if given enough time. On the field, he mostly relies on the Keymaker for his hacking needs.

Stealth (Metal Geared)
By no means a ninja, Jude can blend into a crowd if the situation arises. For the most part, however, he prefers people know it's him that's coming.

TRAITS
Observant (+)
Whether it was innate or something he picked up along the way, Jude has a keen eye. Details others might never notice, like the faint wrinkles that form when someone is nervous, or the subtle changes in body language; he notices them all. As to what he exploits using these observations depends on whether or not you've gotten on his bad side, and unfortunately, everyone eventually gets his bad side.

MacGyver (+)
Some people are unprepared sometimes, while others prepare for everything. Then you have guys like Jude, who seem to thrive with nothing else than whatever's around.

Loose Cannon (-)
Jude rarely wants, but when he does, he gets what he wants. He will get around any restrictions, exploit any loophole, and if all else fails, just does whatever he wants and accepts the consequences.

Grudge Keeper (-)
To say it's easy to get on Jude's bad side is an understatement, the real question is what exactly will get you on that side. As of now, no one truly knows, as Jude will take any slightest fault against him as an insult. Most just find it easier to just avoid prolonged contact with him.

Routine Crutch (-)
Call it superstition, but some things just don't feel right unless you do things the right way. For Jude, these daily rituals are vital to his success, or so he says. Any interruptions to any of these bring a loss of confidence and agitation to him.

WEAPONS
[Light Weapons]

Spoiler

ARES Keres Triple S Gauss Rifle
Jude's weapon of choice for causing mayhem and one of the few things in life he truly cares for. This one shot gauss rifle was part of a limited run that was discontinued due to being extremely user unfriendly and high maintenance, even more so now that parts have grown hard to find. The destructive potential the weapon possessed when firing its specialized Super Sabot Slugs almost outweighed its flaw, but not enough to save its sales. An unpleasant rifle for an unpleasant man; it's a match made in Singularity City.

[Small Arms]

Spoiler

Перун (Perun) Cyril IFC AP Pistol
This highly customizable pistol came into Jude's possession the same way a lot of things do; he took it from someone who used it trying to kill him. It's currently modified with a suppression barrel attachment and an electric distributor to fire electro-AP rounds. Perfect for dealing with androids and the heavily augmented and just cruel when used against normal humans; sounds about right for Jude.

Spoiler

Mono Steel Bowie Knife
This stylish bowie knife once belonged to a Los Locos gang member who made the unfortunate decision to attack Jude. After that, let's just say Jude took a liking to it.

AUGMENTATIONS
Surprisingly for someone in his field, Jude possesses no augmentations, not due to any prejudices against those who do, but rather that he has yet to feel the need to. A firm believer in "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," as some have said and stubbornly fixed in his ways, he finds some creative ways around what might be considered a disadvantage nowadays.

EQUIPMENT

Spoiler

LRCA H5-32 "Simo" (...or at his head)
A former combat android that had managed to survive the war, it had spent a majority of its retirement guarding the abandoned robotics plant as programmed and sniping at anyone who strayed too close. This came to an end when Jude and his unit within the T.A.C.U. was sent out to deal with it. After a grueling nine hours, Jude was finally able to put the android out of commission and took its head as a trophy for how much a pain in the ass it was. After some time, Jude began to mess around with its head, eventually reviving it and reprogramming it to serve as his personal targeting system, naming it Simo and giving him an identity. Simo has proven to be Jude's only friend so far, although for lack of trying on Simo's part.

Spoiler

Hathcock Mk. 2 Observation Drone
While Simo acts as Jude's main targeting system, certain laws frown on carrying an android's head outside of Singularity City. For those out of town occasions, Jude employs the use of older, war-era technology. Comprised of a two-piece system of a reconnaissance drone and the display monitor that acts as its docking station, it is a bit outdated and forces Jude to rely on his skill more, but it gets the job done.

Spoiler

Keymaker PIH853
Also known as a "Plug-And-Play" hacking device (or affectionately as "Pappy"), this handheld tool acts as a shortcut for hacking operations by allowing the user to pre-code several programs into it which can instantly be activated with a push of a button. Much like its nickname implies, the device requires it to be physically connected to a system either through its various adapters or spliced into the wiring. Jude most commonly uses this to open locked doors or override electronic devices.

APPEARANCE
Tall and lean at six foot one inch, with pale skin, deep-set blue eyes, and closely trimmed hair, Jude appears to have aged into middle age with some grace, thanks to his disciplined lifestyle. He is often seen in suits deemed fashionably retro by the upper class, not because it is trendy, but because it was what his father wore. While he fashions his apparel after his father, the trench coat that completes the attire is the exact one his father had always worn and died in, which might explain his attachment to it. After years of sewing close and patching over gunshot holes and other damage it sustained, the coat resembles a patchwork mess, leading to his current code name.

PERSONALITY
There is no way around the fact that Jude is quite abrasive. A true misanthrope, he appears to want nothing to do with others and treats others with contempt until they prove their worthiness for either his respect or loathing, but good luck determining which is which. On his own, Jude lives a quiet life of repetition and restraint, finding a zen-like peace in his daily rituals and treating them with an almost superstition fervor if they are interrupted. Jude is a stubborn man, set in his ways and will often devise unnecessary but creative ways around whatever issues may arise from this behavior.

BACKSTORY

"Heya Kiddo, it's your pops. Your mom tells me you're a smart little guy, musta got it from her...Listen, we're gonna need smart guys like you in the future, so take care of your mother and listen to her. I'll take care of the rest..."
- Robert Clancy​

Jude was born on "Devil's Night", October 30th, in Singularity City as the only child between Robert Clancy and Julia Barone. A quiet and smart child, it didn't take him long to grasp the uncertainty and fear that came with these chaotic times as the people of Mars fought for its independence, only to find their true conflict against the very machine they made to fight with. His father, Robert, was a passionate Martian patriot, remaining on the battlefield to the thick and thin, leaving Jude's only interactions with him through brief audio and video communications until the age of eleven. With the war's conclusion ending with the triumph of humanity and Mars' independence solidified, Robert Clancy could finally return home, yet there were still struggles to be had. For some time Jude quietly observed this stranger called his father, uncertain of how to feel about him, but never voiced this for the sake of his mother's happiness. In time, however, he began to understand the man Robert was; despite having endured two wars, he still went out every day and helped with reconstruction and other volunteer work before joining the SCPD to maintain the newfound peace in the city. His father's selfless and honorable attitude and discipline inspired the small boy to follow in his steps, earning his respect in the end. Graduating the police academy with honors, Jude would only be 21 by the time he passed the examinations that would advance him as a detective, just like his old man.

"You have my condolences. Your father was a good man, Clancy. The world is going to be a lot darker without him..."
- BrayD 4619 ​

Although Jude himself denies this, many say the turning point in his life was the day Robert Clancy was gunned down in front of him. The investigation that followed concluded that the Los Locos member who chose to open fire was doing so in retaliation for his friends' recent arrest and conviction. Hopped up on a monstrous cocktail of chemicals, he had chosen to open fire on a group of off-duties officers leaving a restaurant, with Robert being the first to exit and taking the brunt of the shots. Jude would never get the chance to take revenge, for one of the other officers, BrayD 4619, swiftly shot and killed the Locos before things got out of hand. Grief-stricken from the loss of his father and hero, frustrated from his feelings of helplessness and lack of closure, Jude knew there was no one left to blame, but he would have to make one for the sake of easing his pain and maintaining his sanity. He would turn his sorrow into hatred and direct to the only one left, the android. While BrayD would never know of his grudge against him, Jude sought the transfer to the T.A.C.U. in order to know how to destroy androids, if only to properly enact his revenge in his head. It was also at this time, seeking some sort of stability, Jude was married to his longtime girlfriend, Laura Springfield.

"Violence isn't always the answer, Jude! You can't just go on a rampage every time something bad happens! No one wanted you to do this...except you..."
- Laura Springfield​

The ten years Jude spent with the T.A.C.U. brought out his true gifts, as well those feelings he would have once tried to subdue. Jaded and bitter, he worked out every bit of frustration he might have had through the violence and carnage he inflicted on the work technology could produce, although his personal evaluations suggested he would occasionally go too far. The catharsis never seemed to last, as he would grow more depressed with self-loathing and pessimism each day. It would come to a boil the day a Triad chose to assault his wife's cousin. Unable to handle the helplessness he felt seeing Laura in distress, Jude left and chose to do something about it. He would later be found entering the SCPD, dragging the very same Triad, although missing several of his augmented limbs and beaten to a near pulp. Jude would take his dressing down from his superiors without excuse, only to come home to be dressed down once more by his wife. Unable to deal with his flaws any longer, she packed her things and left, only speaking to him later through her divorce lawyer.
​

"Hey, Taco. You're the one that shot my mark yesterday, right?...How much do they pay you?"
-Clemens Bartholomew Baychester the Fifth​

Jude's transition to Scrap Inc. actually started a month before the incident with the Triad member and his eventual resignation from the T.A.C.U., with one assignment, in particular, catching the attention of Clemens. Impressed with his shot, the Scrap's head gave him the pitch, but Jude, at the time, felt no need to leave. With his world uprooted with Laura's departure and his strained relationships with his superiors regarding his behavior, he would ultimately take Clemens' offer, becoming their resident marksman.​

THEME

Volbeat's "Our Loved Ones"

 

[CasketCase]

CODE NAME: Flask
AGE: 73
PREVIOUS AFFILIATION(s): EDEN Industries, various Earth-based tech companies and academies

SKILLS
Master Engineer/Master Mechanic/Master Programmer
To many who encounter Flask, he is nothing more than a pathetic drunk mooching off Clemens for some unclear reason, and most of the time, they would be right. What they don't know, however, is that even when drunk, Flask is an expert on all things mechanical and electronic and acts as the primary source of repairs and innovation for Scrap Inc. Those more acquainted with this field can attest to this brilliance, with some companies seeking out all information regarding his identity and whereabouts. Fortunately for Clemens, he found Flask first and the old drunk's only requests for pay being alcohol, food, and a roof over his head.

TRAITS
Prodigy (+)
Although tempered by alcoholism nowadays, Flask can be extremely knowledgeable about a wide array of topics. Sure, you'd have to listen to his long-winded stories, but you'd eventually find your answer somewhere within the inane ramblings. Occasionally, however, when the stars align and something he's unfamiliar with catches his eye, he becomes a motivated mess of curiosity, with some even saying he has withheld drinking until he's satisfied this need for knowledge.

Technical Pacifist (+/-)
Believing himself one of the ones responsible for all the violence and death that occurred during the war against A.D.A.M., Flask has made it his personal mission to end any conflicts involving him as nonlethally as possible, even if the results later bite him in the ass. This philosophy even bleeds into his work, refusing to work or repair any weaponry although he has conceded to the demands of the other Scrappers enough to help them, provided they do all the hands on work while he instructs them.

Rampant Alcoholic (-)
It is fairly obvious Flask likes his drink a bit too much just by his name alone. Spending most of his days drinking, already drunk, or hungover, his obsession with alcohol has led him into building a makeshift bar in his part of the garage, mockingly dubbing it, "The shrine of the true gods". Despite his hatred for his liver, he seems to be impressively functional for a drunk, although one can truly see just how much it holds him back should they catch him fully sober.

PTSD (-)
It's fairly obvious something bad happened to Flask during the wars, but he remains adamant when it comes to telling anyone other than Clemens. Regardless of what it was, it deeply affected his sleeping, which more than likely resulted in his drinking habit. Nowadays he has kept it under control, or rather, makes himself scarce when he feels anything coming on. The most common triggering effects come from being around certain androids.

Hikikomori (-)
Whether due to fears that he may be identified by those from an unwanted past, or just a general aversion to most people, Flask is rarely seen outside of the Scrap Inc.'s property. Perhaps it is all for the best.

WEAPONS

Spoiler

​

Modified LaBelle Patriot 12 Gauge
The LaBelle series of firearms were initially designed for competition shooting, but most of them were discontinued during the wars due to their high maintenance standards. The only one to survive since those times was the Patriot line, which combined the specifications desired for competition and the durability and ease of repairs needed during harsh combat. Made from the remains of one broken during the war and various other donor parts, this shotgun serves as the only firearm Flask possesses, loaded with gel-shot slugs and taser rounds.

Spoiler

​

Flask's Cane
Made from a single length of chain, this forge-welded piece of metal acts as Flask's walking cane. Strangely, the old drunk doesn't have any issues walking, but one supposes it's always handy to have something nearby to whack someone with.

AUGMENTATIONS
Although he does not appear to have any visual signs of augmentations, Flask has sometimes mentioned he's had work done to various joints (specifically his hands) to treat some past issues with arthritis.

APPEARANCE
Flask is average in height (although seemingly shorter due to bad posture) and extremely lean from a poor diet. Not bothering with such trivial things such as cutting his hair, he keeps it held back with a bandana and braids his beard to keep it from interfering too much in his daily life. His brown, bloodshot eyes are sunken in, surrounded by dark rings with heavy bags under his eyes. His usual attire consist of various work-related jumpsuits decked out with tool belts and pouches and what appears to be a data analysis device strapped to his right arm.

PERSONALITY
Flask is an extremely laid-back man, seemingly peaceful and relaxed no matter what position he is found in or how pathetical looking his hangover has reduced him to. Friendly and easily excitable like a child, he is known to greet complete strangers warmly, treating them like family despite having never been to Scrap Inc. before. Although not a facade, it is clear that he uses this attitude and alcohol to divert his mind away from his more serious thoughts, which haunt him while sober and while asleep. Despite the mental pain and suffering, he is truly grateful to be alive, greeting each sunrise with tears in his eyes, although that may just be from the dry heaves.

BACKSTORY

"...I need ya to pay attention to this tale, Clemens, cuz I only intend on tellin' it once. Ya see, a long time ago, back on that dirt ball called Earth, I was nothin' more than ya typical snot-nosed brat. One outta nine kids, and I was numbah five, so I didn't git much when it came to attention...not that I wanted it from those folk. Realized early on that I had a gift: my mind. Did whuteva it took to git it noticed. It took me a bit, but when word got out, them fish were swarmin' up fer a bite. Bounced 'round a some of top schools and companies on Earth, but one day, the big one came. EDEN Industries came a knockin' and boy, did they want me good. Now this was before the all the wars when travelin' between the dirt ball and rust ball was a helluva lot easier. Even back then, though, I knew bad things were a brewin', but I wasn't gonna cry 'bout not goin' back. No...it was cuz I was with the big boys now, yanno? They got a lotta work done with me there, made all types of things...good and bad things. Then came the war and the big wigs wanted to keep us safe and upped the ante with security...brought in new the droids, fresh off the assembly line, dripping with all the bells and whistles. We thought were all safe and cozy until we screwed the pooch with A.D.A.M."

...

"...Those were bad days, Clemens. I managed to hide, but there wasn't a thing I coulda done for the others. I hadta watch my friends git torn apart, hadta listen to them cryin' while they choked on their own blood. I don't remember much from that time...I don't think my brain will eva let me. It was like somethin' took over me, like parts of my head clicked off like a light. I was like a machine, programmed to take out all the other machines. Musta been a shock when the outside world finally decided to come check up on us."

"That's enough, old timer. The past doesn't matter here and you've said more than you needed to, now go get some sleep."

When the military surveyed the EDEN headquarters, what they saw was like something out of a nightmare. Blood and viscera stained the previously sterile white, as did the strewn about parts of several high-tech androids. The bodies of the faculty were later found buried outside the building in makeshift graves and while Flask's body was never found, they deemed it a safe bet to report him as MIA with a good possibility of being dead. From then on, Flask drifted, abandoning any connection with his past life and becoming homeless. He might have remained that way, drinking in public and generally being a nuisance to everyone, were it not for him being a smart ass and remarking on the defects of some punk's augmented arm. That punk, Clemens Bartholomew Baychester the Fifth, realizing the old drunk was right, even in that state and took him in, seeing the brilliance in Flask no one else had.

THEME

Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats' "S.O.B."

 

[Dionysian Lumberjack]

Name: Arthur Deadman
Code Name: Gallows
Age: 48
Height: 183 cm (6'0")
Previous Affiliation: The Goon Squad
Apperance:

Face Claim

Theme:

Major Skills:

• Battlefield Medicine: "Alright, all we have is some duct tape, an IV drip, a knife and a lighter. You'll make it."

Not all medicine can be practiced in the sterile environments of the hospital, nor can it always be practiced with proper materials. That's where Deadman comes in. As a combat medic, he knows that he has to make do with what he has to make sure his patient survives at least long enough to be evacuated. Being on the receiving end of supply shortages means he's willing to improvise, perhaps a bit more frequently than many would feel comfortable with someone rooting in their intestines for a bullet but he gets the job done. As well, while properly trained, Arthur has never received an official degree from medical school nor the specialized training required for advanced procedures. He is, however, qualified to perform general nurse work as well as manual trauma surgery, usually more than enough for his needs.

• Urban Warfare Specialization: "Nothing quite like the rush of breaching into the unknown to get the blood pumping."

If there is one thing the Goon Squad is known for, it's their brutality. This extends even to their medical personnel, but especially their frontline medics who are expected to fight alongside the regular troops. It's only fitting that Arthur is specialized in fighting one of the most brutal environments; the city. He was trained in fighting in tight corridors, in poorly lit areas, and any other disadvantageous position that can be imagined. Mixed with a bit of luck, this makes Arthur lethal whether on the defensive or offensive. He can instinctively identify good positions for ambushes, snipers, and other deadly actions. As well, while not a prodigy with his weapons, Arthur is competent in the use and maintenance of all the essentials of a soldier's kit: the assault rifle, the pistol, the knife, hand to hand, and one heavy ordinance (grenade launcher).

• Goon Non Commissioned Officer: "You are all scum, but you're scum under my command and that means you follow my orders."

Even a rabble like the Goon Squad needs some semblance of structure to make sure the grunts don't shoot each other in the back by accident. Promising recruits are promoted and taught by their superiors, groomed as underlings for the ones in power for their own power cliques. As one of the few level headed and experienced field medics in the outfit, Arthur was a highly sought after commodity, which he used to his advantage. He learned how to lead squads, about tactics and strategy, in recognizing strengths and weaknesses, and, most importantly, he gained insight to the relationships and power struggles of the Goon Squads upper echelons.

Minor Skills:

• Musician: "Music, like alcohol, only exponentially gets better the more people involved. By better I mean the chance someone gets punched in the face."

A frequent cover story as well as a childhood of odd jobs led to Arthur learning the ins and outs of the life as a musician. He knows how to play the guitar and favors less electronic and synthesized songs than most younger people generally prefer.

• Housework: "Do I look like I can afford a maid?"

Being a single father and living in a male dominated environment for most of one's life usually leads to different people: the kind that leaves their underwear in the kitchen sink and orders pizza everyday or the kind that cleans up after the former and makes sure they don't die of vitamin deficiency. Arthur is the latter. He cooks, cleans, and washes constantly, making sure everything is spotless and organized.

• Gunsmithing:

Gallows has a minor talent in modding ballistic weaponry. While limited to pre-existing designs, he likes to tinker and swap pieces out to see the results. He is proficient enough to install and remove hardware, though only for common weapons. As well he is limited to small arms for the most part.

Positive Traits:

• [BCOLOR=transparent]Experienced: "Last time i saw anything like this was on a mission in Dubai…"[/BCOLOR]

It takes a lot to throw Arthur off, due to him having twenty years of combat experience, 19 years of near impoverished living, and nine years working at Scrap Inc.. He's seen and done things that would make most people go screaming for a padded cell and straight jacket. This shows itself as an air of coldness when "Gallows" is working and an air of weariness when it's "Arthur" in control. The only thing that could make him lose his cool are threats against his niece or his co-workers.

• [BCOLOR=transparent]Quick: "No, I don't have Tourette's or Parkinson's, this is just how i move."[/BCOLOR]

There is no other way to describe Arthur as anything but fast. He moves in a manner as if he's used to moving quicker than most people can follow, with a quick, twitching smoothness that slides and flick it's way through the air. In practice, he can move in bursts on unnatural speed, his body blurring slightly as he moves. This also applies to his mind, allowing him to quickly process information and see the world as if it were moving sluggishly around him. He primarily uses this for non combat roles, such as quickly reading things, performing battlefield diagnosis in an instant, or just increasing his reaction speed. It is difficult to use this ability in active combat as his muscles aren't augmented to prevent muscles tearing, and if he punched someone at full someone he'd break his arm along with the other's face.

Negative Traits:

• Dependent: "Vivian's the only good I got left in this world, and I'd fo anything to keep her here."

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gallows is the guardian of his 8 year old niece, Vivian Harrison, and is constantly balancing his job and her. She is also a weak point for both him and Scrap Inc. if his identity is ever discovered.[/BCOLOR]

• [BCOLOR=transparent]Unscrupulous: "Course my methods ain't pretty, they're not meant to be."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There are times that Gallows comes off as completely lacking in morals in his actions and behaviors, performing heinous acts of without batting an eye. One reason for this is that Gallows' loyalty and morality only extends to those he feels he deserves it. In the hierarchical order in his mind; Vivian reigns supreme, followed by his close friends and co-workers, acquaintances, strangers and finally enemies. Everybody beyond the first two groups, and potentially the third, are tools that can be used to better their "betters'" causes. In a way the last two groups are something neither human or synthetic to Gallows, their actually less. Torture, manipulation, killing, these actions don't give Gallows any reason to lose sleep.[/BCOLOR]

Weapons/Equipment:

"Bastard": Colt/H&K BPCW-SA90C- A common rifle popular with a number of combat groups, this bullpup assault rifle was modified for close quarters engagements under Gallows' own hand, the rifle sacrifices ease of reload and magazine size for maneuverability and even lower recoil than most guns. It fires 9.5 x 40 mm rounds at 950 rounds/min, each round having a slight armor piercing quality. The rifle has a full length of 600 mm (23.62 inches), 76 mm shorter than the standard size of 676 mm (26.6 in). There's an underslung flashlight and the gun has a wireless uplink directly to Gallows' helmet HUD.

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"Mustang": Colt/H&K M1911-USP- An oldie but a goldie, this pistol fires a .50 Action Express round from a 13 round box magazine. While not as stupidly powerful as some some of the hand cannons on the market (legal or black), it makes up for with more ammo, smaller size, a lack of needing significant augmentation to fire, and the lack of legal issues regarding wielding a miniature artillery piece.

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"Tracheotomy": Mono-Edge Combat Knife- A 20 cm long blade, it's been with him since his first campaign.

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"Potato Launcher": M237 VR-MGL- For when things are so thoroughly and utterly shagged that the words "collateral damage" can only be answered with "How much?" The M237 MGL (Multiple Grenade Launcher is a beast of a weapon, capable of launching 40mm grenades to a range of about 402 meters (440 yards). It holds six grenades in a revolver style case, spinning as the trigger is pulled. The weapon is primarily loaded with High Explosive (HE), White Phosphorus (WP), or Nanomachine canister rounds. Obviously, not meant to be used indoors, this is Arthur's last resort, a final fuck you to anything that would kill him.
The launcher is also tied to Gallows armor, allowing for automatic range and power adjustments to alter the trajectory of the launch

• HIgh Explosive- Exactly what it sounds like. Theses babies make big booms, and fuck shit seven ways upwards and sideways to kingdom come.

• White Phosphorus- Phosphorus that burns anyhting it comes into contact to. A horrific tool Gallows picked up when dealing with cyborgs, who rarely think to enhance their esophagus where the phosphorus flake can enter through respiration and cause major internal burns.

• Nanomachine Canister-This ammunition is less of a grenade and more of a delivery mechanism. Inside is a nanomachines swarm that disperses into an area and settling onto everything in an area. The nanomachines themselves are nearly impossible to see and can track and send their position to Gallows and his teammates, providing important reconnaissance and information. The nanomachines have a five minute life span before they self-destruct in harmless sparks.

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Body Armor: Osiris CQC Armor- An armor developed for ease of use, movability and maximum protection. The plates and helmet are made of a titanium and ceramic composite that keeps the armor at a light seven pound chest and torso piece. Not shown are the greaves and armored boots that complete the set. Each leg weighs a total of four pounds and is made from the same material a the pauldrons, the chestpiece and neck guard. The helmet itself is pressurized with a built in air filter as well aa a communication unit and flashlight. The faceplate is covered in millions of microcameras synchronized to provide Gallows with a life like visual feed. The HUD system in the helmet allows Gallows to switch between regular, thermal, and night vision.

The backpack can hold all of his supplies

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Backpack

Augmentations:

• Augmented Neural Suite:

Through a painful and arduous process, Gallows had his entire nervous system coated with super conducting cables that boosted his reflexes by 300%. The issue quickly became that he could not maintain that speed for various reasons. The augmentations make his baseline faster with a reaction time of .2 milliseconds, but when he truly activates them his time drops to 0.067 seconds. When activated, his brain and body speed up to match him, putting a great deal of strain on him. Extended or repeated use causes extreme migraines.

Gallows can fight in this state, but striking is impossible simply because his limbs would shatter. He can sprint short distance in the blink of an eye, but repeated use will lead to muscle tearing. He can shoot in the state, but only for short instances to get a drop on an enemy.

Personality:
Gallows is best described as two men living in one body. There is "Arthur" the quiet and doting uncle to Vivian, the kind of person that carries pictures in his wallet and comes to every event and show his ward is in. This even extends to the rest of Scrap Inc, especially some of the newer member. For example, he personally makes sure every members' kit is checked before missions, then check himself because he worries.

Then there's "Gallows", the mercenary. Ruthless, brutal, and more than a little cruel, Gallows was the man who survived 21 years fighting in the most chaotic war zones known to man or machine. Gallows is willing to do anything to survive and win, even if it means doing morally bankrupt and evil actions. He is not someone anyone wants to meet in a dark alleyway.

Backstory:
To say Arthur "Gallows" Deadman has bad luck would be an understatement. Born to a corporate drone family in the southern US, he never really excelled in anything except his athleticism and deft fingers. The former won him praise, while the latter earned him the ire of his victims. He lived with his father, a researcher for a pharmaceutical company, his mother, a housewife who did nothing but complain about how her life wasn't the way she wanted it, and lastly there was his little sister, Guinevere, the only one out of the four of them that seemed to have any hope at being something more. It wasn't a particularly happy story

Everything changed when he turned 16 and his father died, ostensibly of an untreated stomach ulcer (later revealed to be caused by illegal testing on the "non-essential employees"). The War was still raging, but on Earth the conflict seemed far away and non consequental, especially in the sleepy corporate town Arthur lived in.

Kicked out of the town and paid a barely livable pension, the boy was approached by a tough and grizzled looking old man who asked if the boy if he wanted to see new worlds, learn to be tough, and to get enough money to help his family.

The first was enough to pique Arthur's interest. The second kept him in his seat. The last one sold the idea for him. And so at sixteen, Arthur sold the next twenty years of his life to the mercenary group named the Goon Squad.

He was initially nothing more than a simple rifleman, another invisible face to be thrown into the meat grinder of war. He was saved from that fate when he accidentally helped diagnose and prescribe medication that saved his commanding officer's life (ironically from another stomach ulcer). From that moment onwards he was to be trained as a combat medic. Training with both the infantry as well as the (sadly understaffed) Medical Corps, he quickly rose through the unofficial ranks to distinguish himself as capable and trustworthy.

That is not to say the basic training wasn't a nightmare. A mixture of live training and simulations, the Goon Squad basic training was based from the now defunct US Special Forces developed by the Goon Squad's leader. Simulation training involved being forced to, among many things, learn how to amputate their own limbs without medical tools, perform surgery on themselves without painkillers, learn to fight while missing limbs, and were also subjected to simulated pain (and death) during combat training until the trainee was deemed fit for combat

The training broke something inside Arthur. He was angrier, more violent, more jaded than a seventeen year old should have been. It would only worsen when he first deployed in the last two years of the War, when A.D.A.M. went insane. He was sent feet first into the hell known as Gallagos Station.

Gallagos Station was an icebreaking station that was a major source of water for the Martians, as well as a major resupply location. The Goon Squad had ben contracted to take the station for it's customers. It should have been a simple job, the station was manned almost entirely by androids and A.I. driven machines. Then A.D.A.M. happened, and everything went to shit.

His first deployment and half of his battalion, 400 men strong, was dead in an instant. The next 2 years was a series of desperate attempts to survive in conditions that made Stalingrad look like paradise. Two years of no running water, low supplies, battlefield amputations, alliances, betrayals, executions, raids, hell. Arthur found himself in high demand, especially as his skills began improving with the sheer volume of bodies, human or martian, that was brought to him.

It was here that he gained his codename "Gallows", when he tortured and hanged four men for attempting to steal the medical supplies he himself had stolen from another group. The scene was even photographed and appeared on many publications and news networks, even winning the photographer an award.

Due to the large amount of men killed in the two years he had just fought, Arthur was promoted to Staff Sergeant and was put in charge of training and leading a platoon of Combat Medics like himself. Within ten years he was the First Sergeant of the 1st Combat Medical Company of the Goon Squad, turning the disparate and corrupt medic corps into one of the most experienced frontline medical units in the Solar System.

For 21 years Gallows bounced between combat zones, dirtying his hands in the name of profit and war. So imagine his surprise when he received a call from Mars, from a woman claiming to be his estranged sister's coworker and friend. Even worse, she claimed that his sister and her husband were dead and had left a child behind in the aftermath. In a heartbeat Gallows left the Goon Squad and brokered a deal with the government in Singularity City; he would sell out the Goon Squad for custody of his niece and exoneration for his crimes.

Shortly after reaching the city, Gallows joined Scrap Inc., and has served for nearly 10 years fighting insane machines, just like he did at Gallagos Station.

Notable NPCs:
Vivian Elaine Benwick

Vivian

Dialogue Between Gallows and Vivian

"Hey Daddy?"

Arthur froze as the words flowed through the air. He was in the kitchen cutting some vegetables for that night's dinner while Vivian was doing homework on the coffee table in the living room that doubled as a dining area. He had been expecting this the moment he had signed the adoption papers, but the after years of "Arthur" and "Uncle" he had begun believing that the risk was passed.

Clearly not, he thought as he set the knife down. He could feel the tears forming, must've been from the damn onions he'd been chopping (even though he had chopped those first).

"Arthur What's wrong? I-i didn't mean to say that..." Vivian, his baby girl, called in a quiet voice.

"It's nothing baby girl," He barely managed to suppress the quiver in his voice before continuing, "You did nothing wrong. J-just don't call me that would you?"

He winced at how hard his voice had become, and cursing himself under his breath he wiped his hands and walked out of the kitchen.

What he saw broke his heart, something he thought impossible after that rainy afternoon years ago. Vivan say with her head down, her blonde strands covering her blue eyes, her shoulders trembling as she gripped the worn faux leather couch she was sitting on. He quickly made his way over and sat down next to her. Wrapping an arm (a worn, scarred limb that didn't deserve to hold something so beautiful) around, Arthur pulled his ward into a hug.

"Hey Viv, baby girl, it's alright," He whispered, rocking back and forth slowly, "It's alright. You did nothing wrong."

"B-but your mad now aren't you? 'Cuz I called you 'daddy'." Vivian's quiet voice was nearly indistinct when buried into his sweater clad chest.

"Not mad baby girl, not mad. A little shocked, and a little sad, but not mad."

"But you are! Your only that quiet when you're working, and you're always mad when you're working"

"...Maybe a little, but not at you Viv, never at you."
"But..."

"No buts. I-you are the best thing's that ever happened to me you hear me? The best. But you only came 'cause life decided that your mommy and daddy had to die. I can't be your daddy, baby girl, don't deserve to be."

"Yes you do!" Vivian shouted as she broke out from the hug and pounded a small fist into Arthur's chest.

"You deserve to be happy." the little girl said, in between hiccups and the occasional snort.

"Hey, hey no need to cry Viv." Arthur felt something rise into his throat, lodging itself and making it hard to breath. Ignoring it, he plucked a few tissues from the box on the table. Bringing a piece up, he gently squeezed the square of soft paper around his ward's nose.

"Here, blow baby girl."

A wet, loud cacophony erupted from Vivian's dainty nose, making Arthur let out a choked chuckle.

"Your mom did the same thing you know? Was like she had a trumpet for a nose, the amount of noise he made blowing her nose." Arthur let his smile drop slightly. And that was the issue wasn't it? Vivian didn't need him to be her father, she needed her actual Mommy and Daddy for that. He was just a replacement trying to make up for lost time and broken promises, not someone who was fit to be "daddy" to anyone.

So why did his heart hurt so much?