Application for Taxon
YOUR NAME: Kat
PERSONAL JOURNAL: perfect_gold
E-MAIL: visions.in.my.head@gmail.com
AIM: SugiKat
CHARACTERS IN TAXON: Dwight Hendrickson, Party Poison
CHARACTER NAME: Agent Cherri Cola
CANON: Derivative of My Chemical Romance's Danger Days
MEDIUM: Original Character / concept album
BIRTHDAY/AGE: Early 40s
CANON POINT: Sometime before Na Na Na, during News a GoGo's transmissions about sneaking in to Battery City.
WHY THIS CHARACTER AND CANON POINT?: I've been playing Cherri since his twitter came online/the album's ARG first came into play, and he's a strong, solid character who's now somehow embedded himself into my head. The community I have him in is kind of dying, and I'd really like to continue writing. As for the canon point? Cherri's character changes MAJORLY sometime between Na Na Na and Sing, if you follow the timeline his twitter gives out. Mainly, he gets kidnapped looking for News a GoGo, and brainwashed to become a Draculoid. I'm simply a lot more comfortable with taking him from an earlier ponit! I was kind of hesitant with applying as another Killjoy, but after thinking about it for a month or so, Cherri's far too unique to pass up for Taxon. He's more than a little insane, and he's dangerous, sure, but in an entirely different way that Poison and Kobra are. They also don't really interact much, if at all, until SING, so I figure I'm game. And as an OOC note, I have a LOT more free time as of today, so... xD
PROGRAMMED POSSESSION: His laser pistol, a bright pink and purple number he's lovingly named Jimmy Paige.
ABILITIES/WEAKNESSES: Cherri is a normal human being, if deteriorating from years of the desert. An Original Killjoy has his problems, after all: He's had his fair share of bombs and guns and sun and radiation, which is to say he's certainly weaker than the average human and more susceptible to colds and viruses. However, given his background at BL/ind., his tolerance for medication is quite high, able to take nearly inhuman amounts of drugs before feeling the effects.
Hanging with News a GoGo, Cherri is excellent at radio transmissions, and quite decent at on-the-fly repair, but his hacking skills are unrivaled, as he's been able to retrieve important files on subjects of BL/ind. investigation, and even a lot of Drac patrol routes. He's also a decent shot with a gun. However, there's not quite much telling what sets him off to fly into various moods. Unpredictable and unbalanced, it's not uncommon for Cherri to simply sit down with his legs crossed and examine his fingernails in the middle of a clap with a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.
PSYCHOLOGY/PERSONALITY: Agent Cherri Cola is, in a word, insane. The intelligence of an inner-city kid who had decided to decline a full scholarship to MIT due to parental illness has long since been tampered and frayed with trial test after trial test, sun and radiation, devolving into a very disjointed mess of jumbled thoughts, rabid moodswings, and incredible unpredictability. These phases range anywhere from bouts of rage, incredible euphoria, fugue states or near comatose depression, and can end just as quickly as they came on or linger for months.
A 'normal' Cherri, however, has enough energy to power the entire city. He's constantly wound tight despite the easy, languid body posture he normally uses, and is nearly never seen without a Cheshire-like grin, or at least a lazy smirk. Cherri likes pushing buttons just as much as he likes listening to rap music, and questions are something he asks frequently--whether or not the questions make sense is completely up to him.
Cherri has a fondness for imitating people and accents, often with dead-on accuracy. Since escaping Battery City in the First Rebellion, he hasn't said a word about his past and doesn't plan to--not even to Dr. D, who he's been friends with most of his life. His motives for remaining a Killjoy are unclear, and it's often theorized that he doesn't even know himself. He tends to show a true disconnect with the rest of the Killjoys at times, and a moment where you can get him to give you a straight answer is few and far between. 'Bending the truth' doesn't quite summarize it--it's less compulsive lying and more of the inability to take anything seriously.
Still, despite his mischievous personality, odd tendencies and rude and sometimes abrasive behaviour, Cherri is smarter than he looks. MUCH smarter than he looks. This tends to leap out at curious, sometimes inappropriate moments. Putting two and two is not beyond Cherri, and any information (and secrets) he gathers he views as fair game.
HISTORY: Agent Cherri Cola didn't start off his life as a lunatic--he was, instead, a biracial kid living in the Bronx, simply trying to survive. Never leaving New York City, Cherri was quite content with futzing around computers while his single-parent mother watched. So much so, he began to do more than just play games. He took them apart, reassembled them, discovered code... It was no surprise to anyone (especially his mother, who had been concerned with a rather obvious case of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder oozing from her sons' very pores) that he was soon the top of his class for computer sciences. It was a matter of time before MIT came knocking on Cherri's door, offering him a complete full ride. A pity he couldn't accept it: his mother was going through some serious health problems. This single action would be the catalyst to a very, very different future.
Needing extra cash to take care of her, Cherri volunteered to participate in a series of medical tests from the pharmaceutical company known as Better Living Industries. They promised a lot of cash for quite a little amount of work: take a few pills, take a few tests, have a few interviews, repeat next month, here's your cheque. He was elated.
His mother passed away, unfortunately, but Cherri never left the Bronx--he became a convenience store clerk at a gas station, continuing the pill process. It was there he met a man who would soon call himself Dr. Death Defying, a fellow Mexican-Caucasian hybrid with an affinity for stupid stuff and music. They clicked immediately, eventually sharing an apartment. Things were good, for a while. Dr. Death Defying began to notice slight changes in Cherri's behaviour, but chalked it up to just having a lovably crazy roommate.
Of course, as is the nature of the Danger Days universe, things weren't good for long. The Fires started, and a few BL\ind. employees quietly informed him one day in the middle of the night that if he was to escape New York and the danger, they would be happy to escort him free of charge to California. Stopping only to write a note and give his roommate a few month's rent in advance, he high-tailed it out of the danger zone.
Better Living Industries' promise was too good to be true. They escorted him to California, of course, but simply locked him in an underground testing facility. The 'voluntary' part of the clause was gone amidst the chaos of the Helium Wars, and Cherri found himself suddenly the subject of many more tests. With many tests came higher dosages, and more variety, and the gas station attendant found himself watching other's around him deteriorate--Vanessa, a lovely girl from Arizona, wound up clawing her own face off after a mood-enhancing serum backfired and stayed in her system for days. Gary was suddenly unable to hear due personality changing prototype pills.
If you ask Cherri (if he'll tell you) if he was ever affected in that manner, he'll say no, or that he can't remember it. He really doesn't remember what happened or even how long it was, but if you catch him at just the right moment he'll mutter something about centipedes bursting out of his stomach and scratching to get rid of the scarabs. He dreams of bright lights and needles, but the rest is a blur.
What he DOES remember properly is a girl calling herself DJ Hot Chimp breaking into the facilities and pulling him out of his clean, sterile room into the fray that was a rescue mission. Through the time he'd been sleepwalking through tests, Battery City had erected itself and BL\ind. had taken control. Chimp and Cherri than began to free as many relatively stable test subjects as they could, though the majority of them would either kill themselves or crawl black to Battery City when withdrawal hit. Cherri turned a corner a little too early while trying to escape, only to be saved by a familiar mulatto with a bit of a New York accent and a vibrant personality: the man wnow called him Dr. Death Defying, it seemed, and had followed Cherri's note. Unfortunately, that scuffle would render the good Doctor's legs completely useless, leaving him in a wheelchair from that moment on.
Cherri Cola was one of the four Original Killjoys, along with the two that helped him escape and Tommy Chow Mein. Finding a new name for himself was easy: he said the first thing he started craving after the withdrawal wore off: cherry cola.
Despite his warped headspace (though probably because of it as well), Cherri Cola wanders around the zones, collecting various bits of junk to bring back to Tommy and following a particularly pretty ladyjoy by the name of News a GoGo around like a lovesick puppy dog. As one of the OKs (and possibly because of guilt), he checks by Dr. Death Defying often, giving him the supplies he can and making sure any new Killjoys with a talent for computers know how to properly hack. He's not above Wavebars, either: kicking his feet up and having a drink with Show Pony is a nice little reprieve from a hard day's work in the desert.
ARRIVAL POST:
Liberty spikes and a neon purple suit.
The owner of said hairstyle and impeccable fashion statement can only stare, mouth agape and looking like a fish out of water. He was a fish out of water. Or at least, a mammal out of the desert, or..
"Heeeeeh," An elongated, slow to form laugh, and Agent Cherri Cola looks down at his hand. He's got his sparkle-painted laser gun on his thigh he can see, but more importantly, he's staring at the tin can that served as a cup and the swill that works as both alcohol and diesel fuel. It was still full. Which means he wasn't drunk, and--oh, look. A bracelet. Free bling.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeh," He repeats, and then looks up with a pleasant, zen-like smile on his face. "I'm hallucinating again," he announces. He seems almost pleased with himself. "You can hallucinate without the use of Zoneweed?" Trust Cherri to figure this out.
He looks around again, taking in his surroundings. Crisp, stark. Sterile. Had he not been so complacent right now it would have probably triggered memories of the wonderful underground testing facility of Better Living Industries.
There's a long pause as he stands absolutely still, like a hunting dog spotting his pray, before he sits in the middle of the room, tailor-style, and takes a long, long swig of the tin can cup in his hand.
Yup. This needs a drink. "All y'all motherfuckers can build crazy shit in dreams, wahoooo." A low whistle. "Motherfuckin' impressed, zonerats!"
ADDITIONAL SAMPLE:
This didn't turn out as planned. Well, none of it did, but this had been a particularly maddening turn of events that resulted in a rather nasty burn on his shoulder from a zapper and the delicious feeling of adrenaline as he ran like hell.
He was fine, really, until he started hopping the fences. Fences with barbed wire kind of sucked, and after leaving having a rather unfriendly tussle with it (and deciding that the winner was the fence, and it's trophy was the lovely neon blue suitcoat that already had a few scuffs on it) he landed with a hollow thud and a high-pitched whine.
"Lesson learned," He muttered to himself. Getting a motorbike wasn't that hard after that--not when you could shoot the drac using it and pick it up from the ditch--but Agent Cherri Cola had learned three things after trying to get back into Battery City:
1. Running very fast was a very good thing
2. Sneezing behind enemy lines gets you a ray gun to the head and an awful talking to.
And...
Wait, what was the third one again?
The point was that Cherri needed to lay low for a while. Lay low was rather hard in the man's book, since he was both tall and loud, but just because he was crazy didn't mean he lacked common sense. That being said, there was no way he was going to hole up alone. Oh, no. He had just the place. The infamous Danger Crew. The redhead and the fellow crazy and the little girl and the scientist and the one that makes things go boom.
Arriving at the diner and finding no one there was a surprise, but only a brief one-a supply run, he supposed. Still, it gave him time to take a nap and maybe even eat their supplies. All that running did wonders for your body, suuuure, but at the end of the day you just wanted some good old iguana on a stick.
The moment the door to DIE diner opened, the redhead was greeted with Cherri wearing absolutely nothing but an old apron, smacking invisible gum with his mouth, a hand on his hip.
"Siddown," his best Long Island accent, an old diner receipt book in his hand. "Ya want some cawfee, sweetheart? ‘Cause I gotta lay low for a while an’ Dr. D said this was the place. So yous and Is? Are gonna get reeeeeeeaaaaaalllll comfy."
PERSONAL JOURNAL: perfect_gold
E-MAIL: visions.in.my.head@gmail.com
AIM: SugiKat
CHARACTERS IN TAXON: Dwight Hendrickson, Party Poison
CHARACTER NAME: Agent Cherri Cola
CANON: Derivative of My Chemical Romance's Danger Days
MEDIUM: Original Character / concept album
BIRTHDAY/AGE: Early 40s
CANON POINT: Sometime before Na Na Na, during News a GoGo's transmissions about sneaking in to Battery City.
WHY THIS CHARACTER AND CANON POINT?: I've been playing Cherri since his twitter came online/the album's ARG first came into play, and he's a strong, solid character who's now somehow embedded himself into my head. The community I have him in is kind of dying, and I'd really like to continue writing. As for the canon point? Cherri's character changes MAJORLY sometime between Na Na Na and Sing, if you follow the timeline his twitter gives out. Mainly, he gets kidnapped looking for News a GoGo, and brainwashed to become a Draculoid. I'm simply a lot more comfortable with taking him from an earlier ponit! I was kind of hesitant with applying as another Killjoy, but after thinking about it for a month or so, Cherri's far too unique to pass up for Taxon. He's more than a little insane, and he's dangerous, sure, but in an entirely different way that Poison and Kobra are. They also don't really interact much, if at all, until SING, so I figure I'm game. And as an OOC note, I have a LOT more free time as of today, so... xD
PROGRAMMED POSSESSION: His laser pistol, a bright pink and purple number he's lovingly named Jimmy Paige.
ABILITIES/WEAKNESSES: Cherri is a normal human being, if deteriorating from years of the desert. An Original Killjoy has his problems, after all: He's had his fair share of bombs and guns and sun and radiation, which is to say he's certainly weaker than the average human and more susceptible to colds and viruses. However, given his background at BL/ind., his tolerance for medication is quite high, able to take nearly inhuman amounts of drugs before feeling the effects.
Hanging with News a GoGo, Cherri is excellent at radio transmissions, and quite decent at on-the-fly repair, but his hacking skills are unrivaled, as he's been able to retrieve important files on subjects of BL/ind. investigation, and even a lot of Drac patrol routes. He's also a decent shot with a gun. However, there's not quite much telling what sets him off to fly into various moods. Unpredictable and unbalanced, it's not uncommon for Cherri to simply sit down with his legs crossed and examine his fingernails in the middle of a clap with a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W.
PSYCHOLOGY/PERSONALITY: Agent Cherri Cola is, in a word, insane. The intelligence of an inner-city kid who had decided to decline a full scholarship to MIT due to parental illness has long since been tampered and frayed with trial test after trial test, sun and radiation, devolving into a very disjointed mess of jumbled thoughts, rabid moodswings, and incredible unpredictability. These phases range anywhere from bouts of rage, incredible euphoria, fugue states or near comatose depression, and can end just as quickly as they came on or linger for months.
A 'normal' Cherri, however, has enough energy to power the entire city. He's constantly wound tight despite the easy, languid body posture he normally uses, and is nearly never seen without a Cheshire-like grin, or at least a lazy smirk. Cherri likes pushing buttons just as much as he likes listening to rap music, and questions are something he asks frequently--whether or not the questions make sense is completely up to him.
Cherri has a fondness for imitating people and accents, often with dead-on accuracy. Since escaping Battery City in the First Rebellion, he hasn't said a word about his past and doesn't plan to--not even to Dr. D, who he's been friends with most of his life. His motives for remaining a Killjoy are unclear, and it's often theorized that he doesn't even know himself. He tends to show a true disconnect with the rest of the Killjoys at times, and a moment where you can get him to give you a straight answer is few and far between. 'Bending the truth' doesn't quite summarize it--it's less compulsive lying and more of the inability to take anything seriously.
Still, despite his mischievous personality, odd tendencies and rude and sometimes abrasive behaviour, Cherri is smarter than he looks. MUCH smarter than he looks. This tends to leap out at curious, sometimes inappropriate moments. Putting two and two is not beyond Cherri, and any information (and secrets) he gathers he views as fair game.
HISTORY: Agent Cherri Cola didn't start off his life as a lunatic--he was, instead, a biracial kid living in the Bronx, simply trying to survive. Never leaving New York City, Cherri was quite content with futzing around computers while his single-parent mother watched. So much so, he began to do more than just play games. He took them apart, reassembled them, discovered code... It was no surprise to anyone (especially his mother, who had been concerned with a rather obvious case of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder oozing from her sons' very pores) that he was soon the top of his class for computer sciences. It was a matter of time before MIT came knocking on Cherri's door, offering him a complete full ride. A pity he couldn't accept it: his mother was going through some serious health problems. This single action would be the catalyst to a very, very different future.
Needing extra cash to take care of her, Cherri volunteered to participate in a series of medical tests from the pharmaceutical company known as Better Living Industries. They promised a lot of cash for quite a little amount of work: take a few pills, take a few tests, have a few interviews, repeat next month, here's your cheque. He was elated.
His mother passed away, unfortunately, but Cherri never left the Bronx--he became a convenience store clerk at a gas station, continuing the pill process. It was there he met a man who would soon call himself Dr. Death Defying, a fellow Mexican-Caucasian hybrid with an affinity for stupid stuff and music. They clicked immediately, eventually sharing an apartment. Things were good, for a while. Dr. Death Defying began to notice slight changes in Cherri's behaviour, but chalked it up to just having a lovably crazy roommate.
Of course, as is the nature of the Danger Days universe, things weren't good for long. The Fires started, and a few BL\ind. employees quietly informed him one day in the middle of the night that if he was to escape New York and the danger, they would be happy to escort him free of charge to California. Stopping only to write a note and give his roommate a few month's rent in advance, he high-tailed it out of the danger zone.
Better Living Industries' promise was too good to be true. They escorted him to California, of course, but simply locked him in an underground testing facility. The 'voluntary' part of the clause was gone amidst the chaos of the Helium Wars, and Cherri found himself suddenly the subject of many more tests. With many tests came higher dosages, and more variety, and the gas station attendant found himself watching other's around him deteriorate--Vanessa, a lovely girl from Arizona, wound up clawing her own face off after a mood-enhancing serum backfired and stayed in her system for days. Gary was suddenly unable to hear due personality changing prototype pills.
If you ask Cherri (if he'll tell you) if he was ever affected in that manner, he'll say no, or that he can't remember it. He really doesn't remember what happened or even how long it was, but if you catch him at just the right moment he'll mutter something about centipedes bursting out of his stomach and scratching to get rid of the scarabs. He dreams of bright lights and needles, but the rest is a blur.
What he DOES remember properly is a girl calling herself DJ Hot Chimp breaking into the facilities and pulling him out of his clean, sterile room into the fray that was a rescue mission. Through the time he'd been sleepwalking through tests, Battery City had erected itself and BL\ind. had taken control. Chimp and Cherri than began to free as many relatively stable test subjects as they could, though the majority of them would either kill themselves or crawl black to Battery City when withdrawal hit. Cherri turned a corner a little too early while trying to escape, only to be saved by a familiar mulatto with a bit of a New York accent and a vibrant personality: the man wnow called him Dr. Death Defying, it seemed, and had followed Cherri's note. Unfortunately, that scuffle would render the good Doctor's legs completely useless, leaving him in a wheelchair from that moment on.
Cherri Cola was one of the four Original Killjoys, along with the two that helped him escape and Tommy Chow Mein. Finding a new name for himself was easy: he said the first thing he started craving after the withdrawal wore off: cherry cola.
Despite his warped headspace (though probably because of it as well), Cherri Cola wanders around the zones, collecting various bits of junk to bring back to Tommy and following a particularly pretty ladyjoy by the name of News a GoGo around like a lovesick puppy dog. As one of the OKs (and possibly because of guilt), he checks by Dr. Death Defying often, giving him the supplies he can and making sure any new Killjoys with a talent for computers know how to properly hack. He's not above Wavebars, either: kicking his feet up and having a drink with Show Pony is a nice little reprieve from a hard day's work in the desert.
ARRIVAL POST:
Liberty spikes and a neon purple suit.
The owner of said hairstyle and impeccable fashion statement can only stare, mouth agape and looking like a fish out of water. He was a fish out of water. Or at least, a mammal out of the desert, or..
"Heeeeeh," An elongated, slow to form laugh, and Agent Cherri Cola looks down at his hand. He's got his sparkle-painted laser gun on his thigh he can see, but more importantly, he's staring at the tin can that served as a cup and the swill that works as both alcohol and diesel fuel. It was still full. Which means he wasn't drunk, and--oh, look. A bracelet. Free bling.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeh," He repeats, and then looks up with a pleasant, zen-like smile on his face. "I'm hallucinating again," he announces. He seems almost pleased with himself. "You can hallucinate without the use of Zoneweed?" Trust Cherri to figure this out.
He looks around again, taking in his surroundings. Crisp, stark. Sterile. Had he not been so complacent right now it would have probably triggered memories of the wonderful underground testing facility of Better Living Industries.
There's a long pause as he stands absolutely still, like a hunting dog spotting his pray, before he sits in the middle of the room, tailor-style, and takes a long, long swig of the tin can cup in his hand.
Yup. This needs a drink. "All y'all motherfuckers can build crazy shit in dreams, wahoooo." A low whistle. "Motherfuckin' impressed, zonerats!"
ADDITIONAL SAMPLE:
This didn't turn out as planned. Well, none of it did, but this had been a particularly maddening turn of events that resulted in a rather nasty burn on his shoulder from a zapper and the delicious feeling of adrenaline as he ran like hell.
He was fine, really, until he started hopping the fences. Fences with barbed wire kind of sucked, and after leaving having a rather unfriendly tussle with it (and deciding that the winner was the fence, and it's trophy was the lovely neon blue suitcoat that already had a few scuffs on it) he landed with a hollow thud and a high-pitched whine.
"Lesson learned," He muttered to himself. Getting a motorbike wasn't that hard after that--not when you could shoot the drac using it and pick it up from the ditch--but Agent Cherri Cola had learned three things after trying to get back into Battery City:
1. Running very fast was a very good thing
2. Sneezing behind enemy lines gets you a ray gun to the head and an awful talking to.
And...
Wait, what was the third one again?
The point was that Cherri needed to lay low for a while. Lay low was rather hard in the man's book, since he was both tall and loud, but just because he was crazy didn't mean he lacked common sense. That being said, there was no way he was going to hole up alone. Oh, no. He had just the place. The infamous Danger Crew. The redhead and the fellow crazy and the little girl and the scientist and the one that makes things go boom.
Arriving at the diner and finding no one there was a surprise, but only a brief one-a supply run, he supposed. Still, it gave him time to take a nap and maybe even eat their supplies. All that running did wonders for your body, suuuure, but at the end of the day you just wanted some good old iguana on a stick.
The moment the door to DIE diner opened, the redhead was greeted with Cherri wearing absolutely nothing but an old apron, smacking invisible gum with his mouth, a hand on his hip.
"Siddown," his best Long Island accent, an old diner receipt book in his hand. "Ya want some cawfee, sweetheart? ‘Cause I gotta lay low for a while an’ Dr. D said this was the place. So yous and Is? Are gonna get reeeeeeeaaaaaalllll comfy."