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TerribleName
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Original poster
I'm gonna put a WIP of my app here and continually work on it.
EDIT: This stupid thing is finally done.
"Do you expect me to have the basic human decency to grant you mercy? No offense, bud, but that's a little pathetic."
Name:
Kaitlyn Watson
Code Name:
Sabertooth
Age:
26
Previous Affiliation:
King's Crew
Appearance:
Kaitlyn is an olive-skinned, athletic woman who is - if you like women who are athletic - rather attractive. Though her face is hardened from her rough early life, the woman's ovular visage remains somewhat soft. The most immediately noticeable facial feature of Kait's, though, is her deep purple eyes. As for her hair, she doesn't exactly seem to... take much pride in. It's always messy unless she attempts to go out and get some girl, but at least she keeps it cut above her ears so it doesn't get totally out of control.
Meanwhile, Kaitlyn also happens to be muscular. Her muscles are dense and toned, giving her the physique of a swimmer or martial artist. Although the muscles make her a bit masculine for some people's taste, she does have plenty of femininity aside from her face; her shoulders are about as broad as a normal woman's and she possesses a very slight hourglass figure.
Perhaps the most striking part of her appearance - which could be negative or positive, depending on how much you like tattoos - is a large symmetrical tattoo of a sabertoothed tiger ready to pounce on its prey. Of course, it's in black and white, aside from its purple eyes.
As far as apparel goes, form-fitting athletic gear and armor is her go-to while she's doing her job. When out and about, a wifebeater, baggy jean-like pants made of synthetic materials, and boots is her style of choice. And for more formal occasions, well, she hates dresses and skirts, and so wears a simple black suit, tie, trousers, shoes, and socks, with a white button-up. Old-fashioned suits look much better on her, she finds.
Skills:
Major Skills
Close Quarters Combat - Kaitlyn excels in close quarters combat more than in anything else. Although lacking in any sort of professional or formal training, the woman is an exceptionally deadly and skilled fighter. Her moves flow into each other like a dance, and in spite of this everything is entirely improvisational, as she can't really rely much on specific techniques, having never been taught any. She can also adapt to virtually any environment and take on many enemies at once, of course depending on the skill level of her opponents. She's also skilled at the incorporation of melee weapons, when taking on tougher or multiple combatants.
Information Gathering - Kaitlyn has a knack for extracting information. The art of interrogation comes natural to her, and she always has a little bit of cash on hand, and has quite a number of "acquaintances" in unsavory places. Typically, it doesn't take her a very long time to find the information that she needs.
Mid-Range Gunplay - At close range, she's about as competent as any normal person would be with something like a shotgun or assault rifle, and marksmanship is not exactly a strong suit, but mid-range combat is something she excels at. Not only is her gun very destructive at this range, but aiming at someone less than thirty feet away is not a problem at all, so she proves herself at the very least effective with any weapon capable of mid-range combat.
Minor Skills
Singing - You wouldn't think it, but Kaitlyn has a smooth, lovely alto singing voice. Although she lacks the technicality and finesse of a trained singer, her voice sounds lovely and she has a knack for, well, hitting the right notes, in spite of the fact she normally speaks in a gruff, irritated tone. However, she basically never sings, at least in front of other people.
Dancing - Given her dance-like fighting style, it's only natural that the movements would extend to her dancing ability. She has a natural grasp of rhythm, and although her dancing is rough and unpolished - such is the nature of being untrained - she can compete with any other good untrained dancer.
The Seductive Arts - Let's just say that, when she wants to, she knows how to talk to a woman, and let's leave it at that.
Traits:
Physical Strength - Kaitlyn is... strong. Maybe not the sort of hulking titan others are, but she can bend one and a half inches of steel into a "u" shape without a huge amount of difficulty. This coupled with her fighting style is, frankly, lethal.
Survivability - If there's anything this girl can do, for better or for worse, it's survive. She gets out of sticky situations with regularity and has an incredible will to live. Sometimes she gets... well, more banged up than others.
Headstrong - She often makes very rash decisions, whether it be in the heat of the moment or in perfectly calm situations, and this can lead to negative consequences for everyone involved, but especially for her.
Weapons:
The Rhino Hand Cannon Mk. 5 is the fifth iteration of a line of "gauss hand cannons" commissioned by Kaitlyn, for Kaitlyn, and all the previous iterations have been destroyed. This iteration has more stopping power than previous generations. It provides more accurate data to her ocular augs, which use the data for enhanced trajectory mapping for her bullets. The gun also possesses very complex encryption to prevent anyone messing with her gun's functionality. The thing can hold up to four 0.50 caliber rounds at a time, and can shoot four times before needing to recharge the electromagnetic mechanisms in the barrel. Recharging takes a rather costly five minutes, but can take less depending on if Kaitlyn wants to shoot less than four bullets, or shoot all bullets at less power.
Kaitlyn's Stun Baton is made of a very dense metal that is exceptionally difficult to bend and break in order to be able to withstand any attacks she may want to dish out with the thing. Of course, it's not indestructible, but when no other melee weapon is handy it certainly does its job. And, of course, against unarmored opponents, being able to electrocute people is pretty useful.
Augmentations:
Light Bruiser Chassis - Kaitlyn is equipped with a unique chassis. Instead of having entire limbs replaced with cybernetic enhancements, the joints in her arms and legs have been cybernetically enhanced, as has her spine. This results in comparable strength increases, while also being more lightweight and taking up less of her body, allowing her to be more liberal with the addition of new cybernetics. However, given that most of her limbs are still flesh and bone, her muscles and bones are at risk of severe damage if she doesn't take her bi-monthly injection of fortifying nanites that protect areas of her body which receive stress from whatever action she's performing.
Augmented Reality Implant - An implant in the back of Kaitlyn's right provides her with data about her environment as well as mapping paths in her environment based on GPS data. This is also where she sees bullet trajectory prediction, allowing her to aim better with whatever weapon she's using, especially if that weapon is her Rhino HC-5. It also provides her with information on the cybernetic systems in her body so she can make sure she isn't too damaged.
Unlike most people, Kaitlyn doesn't fool around with the V-Net at all. The closest thing to it that she has is her ability to tap into GPS data with her ocular aug. She only accesses the V-net with external devices, such as tablets and computers.
Personality:
Kaitlyn is one of those people that doesn't necessarily command respect or admiration. But, she does have an undeniable presence whenever she is around. Many liken it to that of a demon. Something about the way she carries herself is menacing, almost sinister, and lends itself to causing fear or at least an urge to avoid her in some (though, of course, not all) normal people.
Along with her nigh maleficent aura comes a rather abrasive personality. She's blunt; she calls it like she sees it. Oftentimes, her seemingly grumpy attitude (which is just her neutral attitude) leads to people assuming she hates everyone. In fact, it's very difficult to get under her skin - though the people that are on her shitlist best beware, because she is neither a merciful nor forgiving woman - and she has a fairly neutral opinion of a vast majority of people. Even the thugs she murders in cold blood.
And speaking of cold blood, Kaitlyn has it in abundance. Because of her past and the excessive and inherent negativity of her job at Scrap.INC, remorse, sympathy, and empathy are practically foreign concepts to her, and shooting someone in the face while their family watches doesn't even really make her bat an eye. Neither do any of the other cruel things she's done over the course of her life.
However, despite not really feeling remorse, she knows full well that her actions make her a bad person. To that end, she thinks of herself as a human piece of garbage. Scum. Evil. All that sort of stuff. However, rather than seeing it as necessarily a bad thing, she looks at it purely objectively. Although she does wish she could be a better person - or even, daresay, a good person - she has come to terms with the fact she's not really worth any of the small amount of good in her life. And, well, she's kind of come to expect the bad things life throws at her. If she died, Kaitlyn honestly wouldn't be super bummed. That's not to say she isn't confident! Kait possess confidence in abundance. She's certain she can do anything she puts her mind to, minus being a good, worthwhile person.
Although so far it's been pretty much all negative, she does have at least two redeeming qualities, the first of which being an undying loyalty to the people that she loves. Although just a tad cliche, Kait has made very few connections with people in her life, so it would only make sense that she latches onto the ones she does make like her life depends on it. She would die for ol' Clemens and his daughter - especially his daughter - if she had to, and she would have much rather perished herself than her old lover Magdylene be killed.
The second of her positive traits is a decidedly ironclad will. No matter what happens to Kaitlyn, she'll keep going. She considers her survivalist, willpower-fueled nature a curse, forcing her to continue being a piece of hot scummy garbage, but for whatever reason, she forces herself to keep on keeping on. Whatever entity personifies death itself likely considers her will as a sever annoyance that refuses to stop impeding its work. Regardless, something inside her forces her to keep on keeping on. It could be something innate to her nature, some primal instinct awakened by her not-so-cushy life, some flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, her life might turn around some day. Whatever it is that drives her, it won't be going away any time soon.
Of course, this will manifests itself in a bit of a negative way. Although it's never gotten her into trouble she couldn't get out of, stubbornness has very nearly been her downfall on a number of occasions. It is very difficult to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, and she often doesn't pay unwanted advice much heed. However, she does channel this in a bit of a more positive way in that she very rarely leaves a task unfinished, at least if it's something within her power. And that, of course, has kept her on the relatively dark path of revenge for years now, and she isn't gonna stop until she gets it.
Backstory:
Kaitlyn was on track for a promising life, for her first five years in this universe. Her mother was a stay at home African mother who took care of her and the house - this included home improvement, as the woman had a knack for such things - and provided a strong role model, as did her caucasian father, who worked hard at his job and kept their little family comfortably middle class without overtaxing themselves. Not only that, but little Kaitlyn displayed a propensity for reading unusual in girls her age, and her parents had high hopes that she would do well in life!
Of course, such an existence was too good to be true for a girl like Kaitlyn, and the day she woke up in a shipping container spelled the beginning of a long string of unfortunate events that are ultimately leading Kaitlyn down a dark path.
She had no idea how she got on that shipping container, and to this day does not know the fate her parents faced, but she eventually came to find out that the Black Dog Triads had stolen her from her loving home. They kept her in a dark, dank shipping container, stuffed in with some twenty-odd men, women, and children. They were made to wallow in their own shit and piss, barely kept alive by their captors as they waited to be sold. Naturally, this was an incredibly harsh environment for a five-year-old little girl. Kaitlyn was scared, and although she didn't know how long it lasted, it seemed to her to be an eternity of Hell. It toughened her up, making her cold and wary and angry.
But eventually, a gracious "savior" came to save her and her fellow slaves-to-be. A woman by the name of King led a raid on the place Kaitlyn was being kept, and she just so happened to open the crate the little mixed girl occupied. King singled her out - she could never be sure why, but Kaitlyn always assumed it was because of her tininess. Ironic, considering her current Amazonian appearance - and personally lifted her from the box.
King, the head of a gang known as simply as King's Crew, took little Kaitlyn in, and for the next year raised her as a daughter. After the long days of starvation and dehydration, King worked her back up to a healthy weight, and although she wasn't exceptionally affectionate and primarily just made sure Kaitlyn was well taken care of, there were soft moments where she would kiss the young girl on the cheek or the forehead. In such an impressionable time, and after such a traumatic experience, it was easy for Kait to build up trust for this gang leader. She grew exceptionally thankful, and looked up to King as a sort of mother figure.
And King channeled those feelings with great efficiency. She quite easily convinced Kaitlyn that, well, she needed to be strong, and started a personal training regimen that was appropriate for a six-year-old. Building some muscle, setting a foundation of basic technique. And then, King convinced her to test her strength. So, Kaitlyn fought a cage match with a young boy her age. She won, and King told her that she could grow up and be strong. King convinced Kaitlyn that she needed to grow strong for King, giving the girl a purpose and a way to express her gratitude.
So, the cage matches continued. Rather than forcing any one style upon the girl, King sparred with her, nurturing a unique fighting style within Kaitlyn. And then she began training with some other children King was training, and sparred with them. She spent more and more time at the place with the cage matches. And then, she started living there, training with King less and fighting other kids more.
She was prodigious, to say the least, and seemed to have innate aggression and lust for battle to fuel her. Much like in her early years, when she showed promising intelligence, she now displayed promising fighting ability. She lost fee matches, and the matches she did lose were against the older kids. Her new lifestyle became so normalized to her that it completely escaped her noticed that other kids were suffering. Because they lost, they got less or no food and water. The constant fighting was a drain on their mental health, and many went crazy. The facility had only so many decent bedrooms; many kids slept on the floor in cramped rooms with several other children.
So, when King paired her with Maggie, it was rather... eye-opening. Maggie was another prodigious up-and-comer in King's Crew, except she was a negotiater. She was a great, well, people person, with an amazing grasp of psychology and sociology. It was a no-brainer that she ought to be paired with an excellent fighter to act as a bodyguard. Her level-headed, analytical, flirty, almost spoiled personality somehow just... meshed with the aggressive, belligerent, abrasive, and selfish personality Kaitlyn developed as a result of the constant conflict in her day-to-day. They hit it off, and extremely well. Maggie found Kaitlyn fascinating and, well, attractive, but more than that, she saw that Kaitlyn couldn't go on without emotional support because of her unstable nature. Meanwhile, Kaitlyn found Maggie to be a calming presence, and found herself unable to be upset with her for very long. Not only that, but Maggie's kind words felt very nice; it was no longer something she experienced with any kind of regularity, after all.
It was Maggie who coaxed Kait out of her comfort zone. She got the girl to try on dresses and various other "girly" clothes she snuck into the facility. She helped her discover that her singing voice was actually quite pleasant. Maggie was the one person who could make her blush, too, and even make her feel nice about herself. It was no surprise that after two months of knowing each other, the two fourteen-year-olds became inseparable girlfriends.
It then became much easier for Kaitlyn to be convinced of the, well, badness of the facility, and how it made the other children suffer. Not only that, but the King's Crew was bad! The most important thing, though, was that Maggie was unhappy with the situation. So, Kaitlyn vowed to get them both out of King's Crew.
The real nail in the coffin, however, was Kaitlyn's augments, which she received at 18. King decided to give Kaitlyn some experimental augmentations to just her joints, increasimg her physical strength and speed significantly with less weight and more remaining biomass. It was... painful, to say the least. Kait wasn't awake during the installation, but they used little anesthetic, so for days on end it was nothing but torturous pain, which was only made worse whenever she moved. Eventually, she got used to it, and the pain even faded, but the fact she was forced to endure such a thing cemented in her mind how bad King truly was, and it made her feel angry and betrayed.
Thankfully, she and Maggie given an opportunity to leave before her haste got the best of her. The two were assigned to talk to Scrap.INC about working together, and were sent with an entourage of armed men. Of course, Kait and Maggie were not informed that it was meant to be a trap. When the fighting began, they only barely escaped, taking with them a girl who was in the building at the time.
The girl just so happened to be Emily, the daughter of Scrap.INC's boss! Despite their previous affiliation with King's Crew, Clemens begrudgingly took in the two young women, who also quickly became good friends with Emily. But, of course, Maggie and Kait knew that Clemens couldn't take care of them, and so Maggie became a therapist and Kaitlyn picked cage fighting back up, competing for fun rather than basic amenities and a high rank within King's Crew. The two managed to carve out a decent life...
But Kaitlyn's fighting caught the attention of some unsavory people. At first, it was running some errands. Then she was beating people up. Then she killed someone. It was all gradual, of course; over the course of four years, she justified it to herself. She was doing things to bad people. They deserved it. She needed the money, too, right? Maggie couldn't starve...
And eventually Maggie found out. She loved Kaitlyn too much to just leave her, and so she tried doing what she did best and consoling her, convincing her to stop doing these evil things. But as soon as Kaitlyn began turning her life around and abandoning her dark path forever, Maggie died.
She was murdered one day while Kaitlyn was gone. A note had been left on her corpse: "King always wins, dearest Kaitlyn."
Two days later, Clemens and Emily found her clutching Maggie tightly, on the verge of dying of dehydration. Kaitlyn was entirely unresponsive. They managed to keep her alive, though, as she slowly recovered her mental faculties. But unfortunately, as soon as that happened, Kaitlyn fell into a deep, dark depression, and attempted to cope with drugs, alcohol, and lots of sex. It took monstrous effort for Clemens and Emily to save her from herself, and even still, she can often become prey to such indulgences.
But, she continued doing what was essentially mercenary work after that. And then, on her twenty-fifth birthday, she joined Scrap.INC, and has worked for Clemens ever since.
EDIT: This stupid thing is finally done.
Name:
Kaitlyn Watson
Code Name:
Sabertooth
Age:
26
Previous Affiliation:
King's Crew
Appearance:
Kaitlyn is an olive-skinned, athletic woman who is - if you like women who are athletic - rather attractive. Though her face is hardened from her rough early life, the woman's ovular visage remains somewhat soft. The most immediately noticeable facial feature of Kait's, though, is her deep purple eyes. As for her hair, she doesn't exactly seem to... take much pride in. It's always messy unless she attempts to go out and get some girl, but at least she keeps it cut above her ears so it doesn't get totally out of control.
Meanwhile, Kaitlyn also happens to be muscular. Her muscles are dense and toned, giving her the physique of a swimmer or martial artist. Although the muscles make her a bit masculine for some people's taste, she does have plenty of femininity aside from her face; her shoulders are about as broad as a normal woman's and she possesses a very slight hourglass figure.
Perhaps the most striking part of her appearance - which could be negative or positive, depending on how much you like tattoos - is a large symmetrical tattoo of a sabertoothed tiger ready to pounce on its prey. Of course, it's in black and white, aside from its purple eyes.
As far as apparel goes, form-fitting athletic gear and armor is her go-to while she's doing her job. When out and about, a wifebeater, baggy jean-like pants made of synthetic materials, and boots is her style of choice. And for more formal occasions, well, she hates dresses and skirts, and so wears a simple black suit, tie, trousers, shoes, and socks, with a white button-up. Old-fashioned suits look much better on her, she finds.
Skills:
Major Skills
Close Quarters Combat - Kaitlyn excels in close quarters combat more than in anything else. Although lacking in any sort of professional or formal training, the woman is an exceptionally deadly and skilled fighter. Her moves flow into each other like a dance, and in spite of this everything is entirely improvisational, as she can't really rely much on specific techniques, having never been taught any. She can also adapt to virtually any environment and take on many enemies at once, of course depending on the skill level of her opponents. She's also skilled at the incorporation of melee weapons, when taking on tougher or multiple combatants.
Information Gathering - Kaitlyn has a knack for extracting information. The art of interrogation comes natural to her, and she always has a little bit of cash on hand, and has quite a number of "acquaintances" in unsavory places. Typically, it doesn't take her a very long time to find the information that she needs.
Mid-Range Gunplay - At close range, she's about as competent as any normal person would be with something like a shotgun or assault rifle, and marksmanship is not exactly a strong suit, but mid-range combat is something she excels at. Not only is her gun very destructive at this range, but aiming at someone less than thirty feet away is not a problem at all, so she proves herself at the very least effective with any weapon capable of mid-range combat.
Minor Skills
Singing - You wouldn't think it, but Kaitlyn has a smooth, lovely alto singing voice. Although she lacks the technicality and finesse of a trained singer, her voice sounds lovely and she has a knack for, well, hitting the right notes, in spite of the fact she normally speaks in a gruff, irritated tone. However, she basically never sings, at least in front of other people.
Dancing - Given her dance-like fighting style, it's only natural that the movements would extend to her dancing ability. She has a natural grasp of rhythm, and although her dancing is rough and unpolished - such is the nature of being untrained - she can compete with any other good untrained dancer.
The Seductive Arts - Let's just say that, when she wants to, she knows how to talk to a woman, and let's leave it at that.
Traits:
Physical Strength - Kaitlyn is... strong. Maybe not the sort of hulking titan others are, but she can bend one and a half inches of steel into a "u" shape without a huge amount of difficulty. This coupled with her fighting style is, frankly, lethal.
Survivability - If there's anything this girl can do, for better or for worse, it's survive. She gets out of sticky situations with regularity and has an incredible will to live. Sometimes she gets... well, more banged up than others.
Headstrong - She often makes very rash decisions, whether it be in the heat of the moment or in perfectly calm situations, and this can lead to negative consequences for everyone involved, but especially for her.
Weapons:
Augmentations:
Light Bruiser Chassis - Kaitlyn is equipped with a unique chassis. Instead of having entire limbs replaced with cybernetic enhancements, the joints in her arms and legs have been cybernetically enhanced, as has her spine. This results in comparable strength increases, while also being more lightweight and taking up less of her body, allowing her to be more liberal with the addition of new cybernetics. However, given that most of her limbs are still flesh and bone, her muscles and bones are at risk of severe damage if she doesn't take her bi-monthly injection of fortifying nanites that protect areas of her body which receive stress from whatever action she's performing.
Augmented Reality Implant - An implant in the back of Kaitlyn's right provides her with data about her environment as well as mapping paths in her environment based on GPS data. This is also where she sees bullet trajectory prediction, allowing her to aim better with whatever weapon she's using, especially if that weapon is her Rhino HC-5. It also provides her with information on the cybernetic systems in her body so she can make sure she isn't too damaged.
Unlike most people, Kaitlyn doesn't fool around with the V-Net at all. The closest thing to it that she has is her ability to tap into GPS data with her ocular aug. She only accesses the V-net with external devices, such as tablets and computers.
Personality:
Kaitlyn is one of those people that doesn't necessarily command respect or admiration. But, she does have an undeniable presence whenever she is around. Many liken it to that of a demon. Something about the way she carries herself is menacing, almost sinister, and lends itself to causing fear or at least an urge to avoid her in some (though, of course, not all) normal people.
Along with her nigh maleficent aura comes a rather abrasive personality. She's blunt; she calls it like she sees it. Oftentimes, her seemingly grumpy attitude (which is just her neutral attitude) leads to people assuming she hates everyone. In fact, it's very difficult to get under her skin - though the people that are on her shitlist best beware, because she is neither a merciful nor forgiving woman - and she has a fairly neutral opinion of a vast majority of people. Even the thugs she murders in cold blood.
And speaking of cold blood, Kaitlyn has it in abundance. Because of her past and the excessive and inherent negativity of her job at Scrap.INC, remorse, sympathy, and empathy are practically foreign concepts to her, and shooting someone in the face while their family watches doesn't even really make her bat an eye. Neither do any of the other cruel things she's done over the course of her life.
However, despite not really feeling remorse, she knows full well that her actions make her a bad person. To that end, she thinks of herself as a human piece of garbage. Scum. Evil. All that sort of stuff. However, rather than seeing it as necessarily a bad thing, she looks at it purely objectively. Although she does wish she could be a better person - or even, daresay, a good person - she has come to terms with the fact she's not really worth any of the small amount of good in her life. And, well, she's kind of come to expect the bad things life throws at her. If she died, Kaitlyn honestly wouldn't be super bummed. That's not to say she isn't confident! Kait possess confidence in abundance. She's certain she can do anything she puts her mind to, minus being a good, worthwhile person.
Although so far it's been pretty much all negative, she does have at least two redeeming qualities, the first of which being an undying loyalty to the people that she loves. Although just a tad cliche, Kait has made very few connections with people in her life, so it would only make sense that she latches onto the ones she does make like her life depends on it. She would die for ol' Clemens and his daughter - especially his daughter - if she had to, and she would have much rather perished herself than her old lover Magdylene be killed.
The second of her positive traits is a decidedly ironclad will. No matter what happens to Kaitlyn, she'll keep going. She considers her survivalist, willpower-fueled nature a curse, forcing her to continue being a piece of hot scummy garbage, but for whatever reason, she forces herself to keep on keeping on. Whatever entity personifies death itself likely considers her will as a sever annoyance that refuses to stop impeding its work. Regardless, something inside her forces her to keep on keeping on. It could be something innate to her nature, some primal instinct awakened by her not-so-cushy life, some flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, her life might turn around some day. Whatever it is that drives her, it won't be going away any time soon.
Of course, this will manifests itself in a bit of a negative way. Although it's never gotten her into trouble she couldn't get out of, stubbornness has very nearly been her downfall on a number of occasions. It is very difficult to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, and she often doesn't pay unwanted advice much heed. However, she does channel this in a bit of a more positive way in that she very rarely leaves a task unfinished, at least if it's something within her power. And that, of course, has kept her on the relatively dark path of revenge for years now, and she isn't gonna stop until she gets it.
Backstory:
Kaitlyn was on track for a promising life, for her first five years in this universe. Her mother was a stay at home African mother who took care of her and the house - this included home improvement, as the woman had a knack for such things - and provided a strong role model, as did her caucasian father, who worked hard at his job and kept their little family comfortably middle class without overtaxing themselves. Not only that, but little Kaitlyn displayed a propensity for reading unusual in girls her age, and her parents had high hopes that she would do well in life!
Of course, such an existence was too good to be true for a girl like Kaitlyn, and the day she woke up in a shipping container spelled the beginning of a long string of unfortunate events that are ultimately leading Kaitlyn down a dark path.
She had no idea how she got on that shipping container, and to this day does not know the fate her parents faced, but she eventually came to find out that the Black Dog Triads had stolen her from her loving home. They kept her in a dark, dank shipping container, stuffed in with some twenty-odd men, women, and children. They were made to wallow in their own shit and piss, barely kept alive by their captors as they waited to be sold. Naturally, this was an incredibly harsh environment for a five-year-old little girl. Kaitlyn was scared, and although she didn't know how long it lasted, it seemed to her to be an eternity of Hell. It toughened her up, making her cold and wary and angry.
But eventually, a gracious "savior" came to save her and her fellow slaves-to-be. A woman by the name of King led a raid on the place Kaitlyn was being kept, and she just so happened to open the crate the little mixed girl occupied. King singled her out - she could never be sure why, but Kaitlyn always assumed it was because of her tininess. Ironic, considering her current Amazonian appearance - and personally lifted her from the box.
King, the head of a gang known as simply as King's Crew, took little Kaitlyn in, and for the next year raised her as a daughter. After the long days of starvation and dehydration, King worked her back up to a healthy weight, and although she wasn't exceptionally affectionate and primarily just made sure Kaitlyn was well taken care of, there were soft moments where she would kiss the young girl on the cheek or the forehead. In such an impressionable time, and after such a traumatic experience, it was easy for Kait to build up trust for this gang leader. She grew exceptionally thankful, and looked up to King as a sort of mother figure.
And King channeled those feelings with great efficiency. She quite easily convinced Kaitlyn that, well, she needed to be strong, and started a personal training regimen that was appropriate for a six-year-old. Building some muscle, setting a foundation of basic technique. And then, King convinced her to test her strength. So, Kaitlyn fought a cage match with a young boy her age. She won, and King told her that she could grow up and be strong. King convinced Kaitlyn that she needed to grow strong for King, giving the girl a purpose and a way to express her gratitude.
So, the cage matches continued. Rather than forcing any one style upon the girl, King sparred with her, nurturing a unique fighting style within Kaitlyn. And then she began training with some other children King was training, and sparred with them. She spent more and more time at the place with the cage matches. And then, she started living there, training with King less and fighting other kids more.
She was prodigious, to say the least, and seemed to have innate aggression and lust for battle to fuel her. Much like in her early years, when she showed promising intelligence, she now displayed promising fighting ability. She lost fee matches, and the matches she did lose were against the older kids. Her new lifestyle became so normalized to her that it completely escaped her noticed that other kids were suffering. Because they lost, they got less or no food and water. The constant fighting was a drain on their mental health, and many went crazy. The facility had only so many decent bedrooms; many kids slept on the floor in cramped rooms with several other children.
So, when King paired her with Maggie, it was rather... eye-opening. Maggie was another prodigious up-and-comer in King's Crew, except she was a negotiater. She was a great, well, people person, with an amazing grasp of psychology and sociology. It was a no-brainer that she ought to be paired with an excellent fighter to act as a bodyguard. Her level-headed, analytical, flirty, almost spoiled personality somehow just... meshed with the aggressive, belligerent, abrasive, and selfish personality Kaitlyn developed as a result of the constant conflict in her day-to-day. They hit it off, and extremely well. Maggie found Kaitlyn fascinating and, well, attractive, but more than that, she saw that Kaitlyn couldn't go on without emotional support because of her unstable nature. Meanwhile, Kaitlyn found Maggie to be a calming presence, and found herself unable to be upset with her for very long. Not only that, but Maggie's kind words felt very nice; it was no longer something she experienced with any kind of regularity, after all.
It was Maggie who coaxed Kait out of her comfort zone. She got the girl to try on dresses and various other "girly" clothes she snuck into the facility. She helped her discover that her singing voice was actually quite pleasant. Maggie was the one person who could make her blush, too, and even make her feel nice about herself. It was no surprise that after two months of knowing each other, the two fourteen-year-olds became inseparable girlfriends.
It then became much easier for Kaitlyn to be convinced of the, well, badness of the facility, and how it made the other children suffer. Not only that, but the King's Crew was bad! The most important thing, though, was that Maggie was unhappy with the situation. So, Kaitlyn vowed to get them both out of King's Crew.
The real nail in the coffin, however, was Kaitlyn's augments, which she received at 18. King decided to give Kaitlyn some experimental augmentations to just her joints, increasimg her physical strength and speed significantly with less weight and more remaining biomass. It was... painful, to say the least. Kait wasn't awake during the installation, but they used little anesthetic, so for days on end it was nothing but torturous pain, which was only made worse whenever she moved. Eventually, she got used to it, and the pain even faded, but the fact she was forced to endure such a thing cemented in her mind how bad King truly was, and it made her feel angry and betrayed.
Thankfully, she and Maggie given an opportunity to leave before her haste got the best of her. The two were assigned to talk to Scrap.INC about working together, and were sent with an entourage of armed men. Of course, Kait and Maggie were not informed that it was meant to be a trap. When the fighting began, they only barely escaped, taking with them a girl who was in the building at the time.
The girl just so happened to be Emily, the daughter of Scrap.INC's boss! Despite their previous affiliation with King's Crew, Clemens begrudgingly took in the two young women, who also quickly became good friends with Emily. But, of course, Maggie and Kait knew that Clemens couldn't take care of them, and so Maggie became a therapist and Kaitlyn picked cage fighting back up, competing for fun rather than basic amenities and a high rank within King's Crew. The two managed to carve out a decent life...
But Kaitlyn's fighting caught the attention of some unsavory people. At first, it was running some errands. Then she was beating people up. Then she killed someone. It was all gradual, of course; over the course of four years, she justified it to herself. She was doing things to bad people. They deserved it. She needed the money, too, right? Maggie couldn't starve...
And eventually Maggie found out. She loved Kaitlyn too much to just leave her, and so she tried doing what she did best and consoling her, convincing her to stop doing these evil things. But as soon as Kaitlyn began turning her life around and abandoning her dark path forever, Maggie died.
She was murdered one day while Kaitlyn was gone. A note had been left on her corpse: "King always wins, dearest Kaitlyn."
Two days later, Clemens and Emily found her clutching Maggie tightly, on the verge of dying of dehydration. Kaitlyn was entirely unresponsive. They managed to keep her alive, though, as she slowly recovered her mental faculties. But unfortunately, as soon as that happened, Kaitlyn fell into a deep, dark depression, and attempted to cope with drugs, alcohol, and lots of sex. It took monstrous effort for Clemens and Emily to save her from herself, and even still, she can often become prey to such indulgences.
But, she continued doing what was essentially mercenary work after that. And then, on her twenty-fifth birthday, she joined Scrap.INC, and has worked for Clemens ever since.
Last edited:
H
Hellis
Guest
Original poster
Name: Josephine Lâu
Code Name: Burnout
Age: 32
Previous Affiliation: The Root (Local Anarchist group.)
Skills:
(major)
Driver:
For wheels or four gyrojets, I don't care, i can drive it. In my hands a 18 wheeler is as smooth and agile as a 20 model Lex Grande. Fuck the haters. - Josephine, 29, scrap inc interview.
If it has four wheels or four gyro generators, she can drive it. A life as a car thief and street racer has left her with the getaway skills to make her a rockstar among bank robbers and heist planners. And her skill behind the wheel would give a formula 1 driver a run for his money.
Automechanic:
Only basic bitches don't like cars. I like cars, becouse I am not a little bitch. - Josephine, 15, asked what possessed her to steal a car.
Knowledge: Singularity City Streets
I know these streets. And they know me. We have an understanding. - Josephine, age 23, when asked how she managed to shake the cops so easily.
There isn't a street she hasn't sped down, she knows all the byways, shortcuts and where the worst traffic can be avoided. She has been known to take some really unconventional travelling routes to get to a place faster.
(Minor)
Machine Pistols:
Brrrrruuuat, Braha. 12 slugs in yo chest! - Josephine, age 18, quoting her favorite rap song.
An avid believer in the concept of More bullets, less problems, as a relatively untrained combatant in terms of both physical strength and actual combat experience she has decided that machine pistols like the Uzi or the Mac-11 is her best option.
Mechanic (Misc):
What does this do - Josephine, age 11, Ritas Garage.
"She is a a bit of a busy body, trying out different things and often poking into anything remotely mechanic. She has gleamed some rudimentary knowledge into the different fields of engineering and mechanic, but is a chump of many, master of none.
Street Smarts:
You are just a tourist here Benzho. I grew up here.
She spent a lot of time on the streets, either racing or committing petty vandalism. She has a pretty firm grasp on different gang territories, where to find chop shops and similar things.
Trait:
(Positive)
Human Compass: She simply do not get lost, gps or not. She has a sense of direction that is extremely hard to beat. She can instinctively find her way back to a place after visiting it once, and she seems to always know which way is which.
(Positive)
Hard to break: She is a tough cookie. Not battlehardned, but just hard to break down. She doesn't let things get to her, and shrug off mental trauma in a way that is somewhat astounding.
Adrenaline Junkie (Negative)
She cannot get enough of the thrill. IT is one of the reasons why she took the job. Scrappers find themselves in carchases and firefights with unnerving regularity and
Indebted: (Negative)
She owes a lot of people a lot money. They are bound to try and kill her again one day.
Weapons:
Chaizu "Sun Flower" MK-33:
A triad staple, the Chaizu Sunflower is a machine pistol that follows the Mac-11 principle of being capable of insanely fast mag dumps. In the case of Josephine Lâu its a girls best friend. The Chauizu used to be her insurance policy when people didn't want to pay up after losing a race to her. Ironically, it survived her near fatal car crash.
Kukri: She owns a kukri she rarely use. She has been trying to get one of the other member teach her to fight in close quarter better.
Misc Possession:
Frontier Finesse X-G84 Gyro.
The frontier finesse is a martian classic. One of the most popular gyrocars among street racers due to its super handling, it's fitted with four X-G21 propulsion units, giving the car not only acceleration to match any traditional car, but also the lift capability of most powerful of gyro vehicles. The standard mode has it hovering about 40-50 cm above ground but can easily go into a vertical "flat lift" of 60 km/h. Josephine "repossed" the vehicle from a target, stating it was destiny for he to find the perfect replacement for her old, now totalled car.
Frontier Sheriff Police Model SUV.
This car is more the entire groups, but she was the one to pick it out and modify it along with the other mechanically giften ones. ITs called a SUV, but its more a civilian apc. WIth handles ontop for Default to cling to should they need him to deploy quickly, it has 20 milimeter plating and bullet proof tires. Its a traditional car, so no gyros exist. But its engine is capable of towing a small tank. Both sides have little drone controlledfuns mounted and hidded within barely discernible disks. Inside there is room to sit as well as stash a few of the teams drones and enough of Gallows medical supplies to take care of the team when they get in trouble. It also comes with three droned controlled by the one sitting shotgun. In bold letters, the left side says "Scrap.Inc" and other other side shows a stylized, blown apart android head.
Augmentations:
Voska Industries "Speed" V-Jack: A six port, instant reaction issue V-jack for integration specifically with vehicle systems and computers. Fitted at the base of her skull, it needs six ports instead of the regular two.
Modified Z.E.U.S "Ostrich" Carbon Fiber prosthetic limbs:
The ostrich are rather common replacement limb-prosthetics that most receive after amputations. They are rathe crude in comparison to sleeker models that are made to look normal, instead being matte black and clearly artificial. Josephine had her attached to underneath her knee and from her elbow down due to irreparable damage to bone, nerves
and generally just mangled them beyond saving. Not trusting herself to have the same sensitivity with her prosthetics, she has modified them to directly work as pedals, allowing for a slot at her heels to connect where the pedals are, essentially making it so that her feet becomes the pedals.
Personality:
Self styled Anarchist with a car. Rapid fire mouth, Rapid fire lifestyle. A rockstar in the making as she describes herself, She is one of the more lighthearted and less messed up people to ever work at Scrap.Inc. This despite having her car being rammed of the road and losing both her lower arms and lowers legs as a result. Josephine is the result of the citys mean streets and give no quarter attitudes. She has always had to scrap and scrape on by by the means of her talents, and not letting it wear her down has been a ongoing battle.
She is a loyal sort, more or less. She doesn't believe in backstabbing, she looks things in the face and tries to run them over. Only losers hit you from the back after all.
Backstory:
"Speed is the drug and the cure for all ailments. You hurtin', you get in a car and hit that pedal. The adrenaline will make you forgot that hurtin'. You feeling down, get in that car, the concentration and sound of screeching tires as you drift in a tight corner is gonna blow that depression away. It will make you feel alive." - Josephine "Burnout" Lau.
Two years prior to the war ending, at the height of the ADAM incident, a girl was born admist the bomb sirens blaring overhead. Daughter to 40 year old chinese settler Xhiou Lau and 35 year old former american, now Martian Patriot Rita Lâu. She came to the world screaming as the city of New Chicago suffered the wrath of two AI driven cruisers dropping bombs on the human populace. Born in the sick ward of a shelter, little Josephine was a small child. When the family of three finally got to see sunlight again, 68 hours had passed since her birth, 210.000 people had been confirmed killed and nearly half a million was reported as missing or in critical. New Chicago, a city of 3 million people, had suffered almost complete and utter infrastructural damage. When the mega corporations began pitching into the rebuilding, a lot of the populace were hoping for a stake in the new project. As it often is with big money, the already poor and destitute were not the main benefactors of any sort. Sure, there were jobs being created, but in the end those were mostly temporary and the local workers got the shaft more often than not. Xhiou Lau was a union leader for the New Chicago Steelworkers before the city was pulverised. Martian government was willing to see between fingers when the companies came rolling in with all the money in the world. Xhiou fought for all the world to save as many jobs as he could.
One day Xhiou didn't make it home. A sudden failure of his brakes saw him dead the highway. The new head of the Union was a total pushover, and yet another obstacle was crushed under the megacorps heel. Josephine mother Rita was a mechanic, and had maintained the family car for years. She knew there was foul play, but any such claim was refuted. In fact, she was fired from her job, when someone claimed several of the cars she worked on had been shoddy jobs with bad breaks. Rita was devastated, turning to the bottle and feeling betrayed by the Martian government whom she had supported for so long. For Josephine, it meant growing up with her father who had always been her pillar of support and taking care of her once so passionate mother. ANd it meant the birth of a budding anarchist in Josephine.
She grew up with a chip the size of a city on her shoulder, learning how to repair cars from her mother whenever Rita was sober enough. Between running with a group called The Root,led by the charismatic Evalina Rosetta Hildinho and Josephine's growing interest for cars, things began to spin the way only youthful passion can. Josephine looked up to Evalina, idolized her. Evalina was a firebrand, who spoke about breaking the gears of the system, to topple the system from below. She said that the people down in the slums were its original inhabitants, it's roots. Hence the name.That idolizing became enamorment and the two would end up having a brief but ultimately failed romance. After its almost destined failure Josephine undertook more and more risky assignments as a way to keep herself distracted. She stole from company sub-suppliers and used her father's old contacts to dig up dirt on the Union members that had caved to the corporations. ,
As her missions grew more dangerous, she found that the thrill was becoming more and more addicting. She needed the thrill. However, after a mission gone awry, she was excluded from the Root entirely. She was left with a need for adrenaline in her life. Thats when she began street racing. Her first few races was in a "borrowed" car, lent her by the host of the races. If she were to crash it or lose to many times, her life was pretty much forfeit as she could never afford replacing the money lost. Luckily for her, she was a natural, and began making some serious cash early. She was a "underdog" rider, virtually unknown to all but her creditors, making some people in the know a lot of money in a short amount of time. However, whne she began to become a crowd favorite, a year or so after she had payed off her car, the same people wanted her to lose. She, thinking she was independent from their influence now, said there was no way she would lose. She kept winning with the occasional loss here and there untill one day, she was a in an accident. Someone had cut hijacked the cars systems, causing a fatal lock up just as she was to take a sharp corner. In the accident, she lost both her legs and arms from the knees and elbows. All her remaining money went to get hold of prosthetics, but her name in the scene had been blacklisted while she was at the hospital.
Desperate, she tried to get back in the game but she had lost both nerve and sensitivity along her legs. Some close shaves with local gangs and mobsters had her convinced her life was over. She met Clemens at a bar, starting a fight with a rude and pushy patron. When he mentioned he knew how to get her better prosthetics and that he was looking for a driver and inhouse auto mechanic.
Her time at Scrap.Inch have revitalized her some, and their brand of crazy fits he like a glove.
Code Name: Burnout
Age: 32
Previous Affiliation: The Root (Local Anarchist group.)
Skills:
(major)
Driver:
For wheels or four gyrojets, I don't care, i can drive it. In my hands a 18 wheeler is as smooth and agile as a 20 model Lex Grande. Fuck the haters. - Josephine, 29, scrap inc interview.
If it has four wheels or four gyro generators, she can drive it. A life as a car thief and street racer has left her with the getaway skills to make her a rockstar among bank robbers and heist planners. And her skill behind the wheel would give a formula 1 driver a run for his money.
Automechanic:
Only basic bitches don't like cars. I like cars, becouse I am not a little bitch. - Josephine, 15, asked what possessed her to steal a car.
Knowledge: Singularity City Streets
I know these streets. And they know me. We have an understanding. - Josephine, age 23, when asked how she managed to shake the cops so easily.
There isn't a street she hasn't sped down, she knows all the byways, shortcuts and where the worst traffic can be avoided. She has been known to take some really unconventional travelling routes to get to a place faster.
(Minor)
Machine Pistols:
Brrrrruuuat, Braha. 12 slugs in yo chest! - Josephine, age 18, quoting her favorite rap song.
An avid believer in the concept of More bullets, less problems, as a relatively untrained combatant in terms of both physical strength and actual combat experience she has decided that machine pistols like the Uzi or the Mac-11 is her best option.
Mechanic (Misc):
What does this do - Josephine, age 11, Ritas Garage.
"She is a a bit of a busy body, trying out different things and often poking into anything remotely mechanic. She has gleamed some rudimentary knowledge into the different fields of engineering and mechanic, but is a chump of many, master of none.
Street Smarts:
You are just a tourist here Benzho. I grew up here.
She spent a lot of time on the streets, either racing or committing petty vandalism. She has a pretty firm grasp on different gang territories, where to find chop shops and similar things.
Trait:
(Positive)
Human Compass: She simply do not get lost, gps or not. She has a sense of direction that is extremely hard to beat. She can instinctively find her way back to a place after visiting it once, and she seems to always know which way is which.
(Positive)
Hard to break: She is a tough cookie. Not battlehardned, but just hard to break down. She doesn't let things get to her, and shrug off mental trauma in a way that is somewhat astounding.
Adrenaline Junkie (Negative)
She cannot get enough of the thrill. IT is one of the reasons why she took the job. Scrappers find themselves in carchases and firefights with unnerving regularity and
Indebted: (Negative)
She owes a lot of people a lot money. They are bound to try and kill her again one day.
Weapons:
Chaizu "Sun Flower" MK-33:
A triad staple, the Chaizu Sunflower is a machine pistol that follows the Mac-11 principle of being capable of insanely fast mag dumps. In the case of Josephine Lâu its a girls best friend. The Chauizu used to be her insurance policy when people didn't want to pay up after losing a race to her. Ironically, it survived her near fatal car crash.
Kukri: She owns a kukri she rarely use. She has been trying to get one of the other member teach her to fight in close quarter better.
Misc Possession:
Frontier Finesse X-G84 Gyro.
The frontier finesse is a martian classic. One of the most popular gyrocars among street racers due to its super handling, it's fitted with four X-G21 propulsion units, giving the car not only acceleration to match any traditional car, but also the lift capability of most powerful of gyro vehicles. The standard mode has it hovering about 40-50 cm above ground but can easily go into a vertical "flat lift" of 60 km/h. Josephine "repossed" the vehicle from a target, stating it was destiny for he to find the perfect replacement for her old, now totalled car.
Frontier Sheriff Police Model SUV.
This car is more the entire groups, but she was the one to pick it out and modify it along with the other mechanically giften ones. ITs called a SUV, but its more a civilian apc. WIth handles ontop for Default to cling to should they need him to deploy quickly, it has 20 milimeter plating and bullet proof tires. Its a traditional car, so no gyros exist. But its engine is capable of towing a small tank. Both sides have little drone controlledfuns mounted and hidded within barely discernible disks. Inside there is room to sit as well as stash a few of the teams drones and enough of Gallows medical supplies to take care of the team when they get in trouble. It also comes with three droned controlled by the one sitting shotgun. In bold letters, the left side says "Scrap.Inc" and other other side shows a stylized, blown apart android head.
Augmentations:
Voska Industries "Speed" V-Jack: A six port, instant reaction issue V-jack for integration specifically with vehicle systems and computers. Fitted at the base of her skull, it needs six ports instead of the regular two.
Modified Z.E.U.S "Ostrich" Carbon Fiber prosthetic limbs:
The ostrich are rather common replacement limb-prosthetics that most receive after amputations. They are rathe crude in comparison to sleeker models that are made to look normal, instead being matte black and clearly artificial. Josephine had her attached to underneath her knee and from her elbow down due to irreparable damage to bone, nerves
and generally just mangled them beyond saving. Not trusting herself to have the same sensitivity with her prosthetics, she has modified them to directly work as pedals, allowing for a slot at her heels to connect where the pedals are, essentially making it so that her feet becomes the pedals.
Personality:
Self styled Anarchist with a car. Rapid fire mouth, Rapid fire lifestyle. A rockstar in the making as she describes herself, She is one of the more lighthearted and less messed up people to ever work at Scrap.Inc. This despite having her car being rammed of the road and losing both her lower arms and lowers legs as a result. Josephine is the result of the citys mean streets and give no quarter attitudes. She has always had to scrap and scrape on by by the means of her talents, and not letting it wear her down has been a ongoing battle.
She is a loyal sort, more or less. She doesn't believe in backstabbing, she looks things in the face and tries to run them over. Only losers hit you from the back after all.
Backstory:
"Speed is the drug and the cure for all ailments. You hurtin', you get in a car and hit that pedal. The adrenaline will make you forgot that hurtin'. You feeling down, get in that car, the concentration and sound of screeching tires as you drift in a tight corner is gonna blow that depression away. It will make you feel alive." - Josephine "Burnout" Lau.
Two years prior to the war ending, at the height of the ADAM incident, a girl was born admist the bomb sirens blaring overhead. Daughter to 40 year old chinese settler Xhiou Lau and 35 year old former american, now Martian Patriot Rita Lâu. She came to the world screaming as the city of New Chicago suffered the wrath of two AI driven cruisers dropping bombs on the human populace. Born in the sick ward of a shelter, little Josephine was a small child. When the family of three finally got to see sunlight again, 68 hours had passed since her birth, 210.000 people had been confirmed killed and nearly half a million was reported as missing or in critical. New Chicago, a city of 3 million people, had suffered almost complete and utter infrastructural damage. When the mega corporations began pitching into the rebuilding, a lot of the populace were hoping for a stake in the new project. As it often is with big money, the already poor and destitute were not the main benefactors of any sort. Sure, there were jobs being created, but in the end those were mostly temporary and the local workers got the shaft more often than not. Xhiou Lau was a union leader for the New Chicago Steelworkers before the city was pulverised. Martian government was willing to see between fingers when the companies came rolling in with all the money in the world. Xhiou fought for all the world to save as many jobs as he could.
One day Xhiou didn't make it home. A sudden failure of his brakes saw him dead the highway. The new head of the Union was a total pushover, and yet another obstacle was crushed under the megacorps heel. Josephine mother Rita was a mechanic, and had maintained the family car for years. She knew there was foul play, but any such claim was refuted. In fact, she was fired from her job, when someone claimed several of the cars she worked on had been shoddy jobs with bad breaks. Rita was devastated, turning to the bottle and feeling betrayed by the Martian government whom she had supported for so long. For Josephine, it meant growing up with her father who had always been her pillar of support and taking care of her once so passionate mother. ANd it meant the birth of a budding anarchist in Josephine.
She grew up with a chip the size of a city on her shoulder, learning how to repair cars from her mother whenever Rita was sober enough. Between running with a group called The Root,led by the charismatic Evalina Rosetta Hildinho and Josephine's growing interest for cars, things began to spin the way only youthful passion can. Josephine looked up to Evalina, idolized her. Evalina was a firebrand, who spoke about breaking the gears of the system, to topple the system from below. She said that the people down in the slums were its original inhabitants, it's roots. Hence the name.That idolizing became enamorment and the two would end up having a brief but ultimately failed romance. After its almost destined failure Josephine undertook more and more risky assignments as a way to keep herself distracted. She stole from company sub-suppliers and used her father's old contacts to dig up dirt on the Union members that had caved to the corporations. ,
As her missions grew more dangerous, she found that the thrill was becoming more and more addicting. She needed the thrill. However, after a mission gone awry, she was excluded from the Root entirely. She was left with a need for adrenaline in her life. Thats when she began street racing. Her first few races was in a "borrowed" car, lent her by the host of the races. If she were to crash it or lose to many times, her life was pretty much forfeit as she could never afford replacing the money lost. Luckily for her, she was a natural, and began making some serious cash early. She was a "underdog" rider, virtually unknown to all but her creditors, making some people in the know a lot of money in a short amount of time. However, whne she began to become a crowd favorite, a year or so after she had payed off her car, the same people wanted her to lose. She, thinking she was independent from their influence now, said there was no way she would lose. She kept winning with the occasional loss here and there untill one day, she was a in an accident. Someone had cut hijacked the cars systems, causing a fatal lock up just as she was to take a sharp corner. In the accident, she lost both her legs and arms from the knees and elbows. All her remaining money went to get hold of prosthetics, but her name in the scene had been blacklisted while she was at the hospital.
Desperate, she tried to get back in the game but she had lost both nerve and sensitivity along her legs. Some close shaves with local gangs and mobsters had her convinced her life was over. She met Clemens at a bar, starting a fight with a rude and pushy patron. When he mentioned he knew how to get her better prosthetics and that he was looking for a driver and inhouse auto mechanic.
Her time at Scrap.Inch have revitalized her some, and their brand of crazy fits he like a glove.
B
Beowulf
Guest
Original poster
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:
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.
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- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
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- Multiple posts per day
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- Online Availability
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- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
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- Adaptable
- Genres
- Speculative Fiction, Fantasy, Sci-fi, Horror
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]
[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]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]
[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]
[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]
[BCOLOR=transparent] [/BCOLOR]
Theme Song:
Last edited:
- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Superhero, medieval fantasy, supernatural, modern fantasy
[BCOLOR=#000000]
[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Name: Vage Hallis (Vage like Vayj)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Code Name: Grasshopper[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Age: 28[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Previous Affiliation; (Optional)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Primary Skills:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
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.
[BCOLOR=#000000]Traits:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]-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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Weapons: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Heavily modded HK XM30 Submachine Gun, AKA "Locust"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Semi-Automatic Pistol AKA "Cricket"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Modded Combat Knife[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Fragmentation grenades[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]For when diplomacy doesn't quite cut it. Vage isn't much of a diplomat.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]This leads us to the present, where Vage is both tinker and soldier for Singularity City's finest.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Name: Vage Hallis (Vage like Vayj)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Code Name: Grasshopper[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Age: 28[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Previous Affiliation; (Optional)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Primary Skills:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
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.
[BCOLOR=#000000]Traits:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]-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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Weapons: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Heavily modded HK XM30 Submachine Gun, AKA "Locust"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Semi-Automatic Pistol AKA "Cricket"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Modded Combat Knife[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Fragmentation grenades[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]For when diplomacy doesn't quite cut it. Vage isn't much of a diplomat.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]This leads us to the present, where Vage is both tinker and soldier for Singularity City's finest.[/BCOLOR]
Last edited:
- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
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
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.
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
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
Last edited:
H
Hellis
Guest
Original poster
Accepted
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
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.
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
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
H
Hellis
Guest
Original poster
Accepted[BCOLOR=#000000][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Name: Vage Hallis (Vage like Vayj)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Code Name: Grasshopper[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Age: 28[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Previous Affiliation; (Optional)[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Primary Skills:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
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.
[BCOLOR=#000000]Traits:[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]+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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]-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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Weapons: [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Heavily modded HK XM30 Submachine Gun, AKA "Locust"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Semi-Automatic Pistol AKA "Cricket"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Modded Combat Knife[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Fragmentation grenades[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]For when diplomacy doesn't quite cut it. Vage isn't much of a diplomat.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
- [BCOLOR=#000000][BCOLOR=#000000]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[/BCOLOR][/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]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.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]This leads us to the present, where Vage is both tinker and soldier for Singularity City's finest.[/BCOLOR]
- Status