God-speeds your MOM;
PLAYER INFORMATION-
Name/Nickname: Fyre
AIM/E-mail/Contact:
[AIM] eighth helleluia
[E-mail] hotaru.no.tamashii[at]gmail[dot]com
LJ: fyretoppaaa
CHARACTER INFORMATION-
Canon Character and Series: Kongou Agon [Eyeshield 21]
In-Game Name: Sub-Lieutenant Kongou Agon
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Position & Ship: Pilot aboard the Victoria II
Appearance: Agon was probably born with a normal head of hair, but over time, as with any young hoodlum, it's been styled and bleached to high heaven. Lately, though (lately being most of his high school and Academy career), he's been favoring dreadlocks. While he isn't exactly freakish in size, he does tower over most of the population and is powerfully-built to boot.
Clothing-wise, his everyday wear normally falls somewhere in the neighborhood of casual-chic and sportsy, with a passing fondness for traditional bead necklaces. Uniforms don't sit well with him unless they're smart enough to impress the ladies. His sunglasses are pretty much fused to his face (even under his goggles) unless he's greeting a pretty girl for the first time--then he has a tendency to whip them off to complement his charmer's grin.
Being an outdoors sort of guy most of the time, he's pretty tan compared to most city-dwelling Ivonians. Finally, he has the image of a coiled dragon inked across his back, starting with the head at his left shoulder and twisting all the way down.
Personality: To put it simply, Agon is a spoiled brat and an unrepentant jackass, although when he puts his mind to it, he can be charming enough that even those who should know better find themselves somewhat at a loss. This latter trait is almost exclusive to when he's pursuing a new girl, particularly one of the more elusive ones. He isn't interested in anything but good-looking girls, though, and makes sure everyone knows it, too.
In addition to being a chauvinist and unabashed hedonist, then (one-night stands are his bragging point), he's also so used to getting his way that he will either completely ignore or forcibly brush aside any obstacles. The prestige of being a 'once-in-a-century' genius means that even the higher ranks of authority tend to indulge him more often than not, never mind the multitudes of girls he's gone through, or friends (if anyone can actually claim that title) and family.
Agon has likely never trained or studied much more than a day in any pursuit in his entire life--manual tasks coming to him with magical ease; and in terms of brains, he's pretty damnably intelligent, as well--so good luck trying to pull one over him. As a pilot, instead of drills, he prefers to spend all his time skirt-chasing or extorting money from hapless passersby and small-time thugs. And since, when he does allow himself to be called out of the hangar, he tends to annihilate anything in his way, he also hasn't spent a great deal of time in actual combat--both due to his own laziness and to his superiors' reluctance to use the trump card unless they have to (the consequences tend to be greater if they happen to get him out there for something he doesn't consider worth his time, in the end).
The lack of field experience has done nothing to temper his confidence, though--bordering on arrogance, but not quite, considering his actual level of skill. Unless he recognizes you as a genius or otherwise useful in some way, or you happen to somehow one-up him in any way, shape or form (or you're a cute girl), he will consider you trash, and nothing more than trash. And if you've outlived your usefulness, whether you're a partner or a tally in his sexual adventures, he won't hesitate to relegate you to the latter category--or to let you know it by any means he deems fit.
Perhaps as a result of his own shunning of practice or training of any kind, Agon despises anyone who works hard to attain their goals--he believes in the absolute supremacy of natural talent, and will summarily crush anyone seeking to prove otherwise. He has a pretty quick temper if you know which buttons to push, and not a very good rein on it besides.
When he actually makes a decision to go after someone or something, though--that's when Agon's at his most dangerous. He will focus entirely on that person and that task, and will use any means necessary to bring them down--and woe betide anyone or anything that happens into his way until he does so. This is an extension of the narrowing of focus that occurs when he enters his plane for battle--not even the most adorable girl can sway him then.
Abilities/Weapons: Physically, Agon is a powerhouse--he can easily take down an entire gang of (relatively human, lightly armed) thugs without even breaking a sweat. As a matter of fact, no one has yet seen an end to his stamina. The power of his grip is such that he can bend metal one-handed, never mind limbs and (quite possibly) necks.
As a result, he's usually only lightly armed--perhaps a switchblade, or at best, a small concealed knife. Most of the dirty work is done with his bare hands alone.
He is also able to master any physical task or mental challenge set before him in a ridiculously short amount of time--learning new concepts as well as new techniques and strategies is less than moment or two's consideration. This makes him able to be incredibly versatile and unpredictable in the field, although he's usually too proud to resort to anything but his own style and methods. It also means that he could probably cover quite well for nearly any position requiring any level of skill or expertise on an airship--provided you can make it worth his while.
His real skill, though, lies in what has been called the God-Speed Impulse--the fact that the electrical impulses that govern reflex and movement travel from his eyes to his muscles in approximately 0.11 seconds--a reaction time at the limits of human ability. This ability is triggered by sight. [It's been shown in canon that he can in fact break the 0.10 second limit to human reaction speed, so he'll likely develop to that point sometime in-game.]
While this means that he naturally leans towards being more of an instinctive fighter than a strategic one, anyone who thinks he can't flip straight to the other end of the spectrum is in for an even worse round of humiliation than they would have faced otherwise.
Weaknesses: Despite his formidable strength and special abilities, Agon is indeed only human. No matter how fast or how cunning he is, little of that matters if he can't move--or if his plane is fatally incapacitated. In fact, not all planes can keep up with the sheer speed of his reactions, which is a source of constant frustration for him. For that reason, he has a tendency to get into rows with mechanics and, more often than not, to total his planes trying to get them to perform up to par.
And since his God-Speed Impulse is triggered by sight, his blind spots are fatal angles from which to ambush. This may be remedied, in some part, by technology and strategy, but the fact remains that whether he's piloting or fighting, if he can't see it, he can't react to it.
His proud complacence means that he's easily riled, especially by trash who think they can overcome the barrier between average and genius. It also means that improvement is foreign to him--you can't improve on what's already perfect. As a result, he's always performing perhaps just a hair's breadth short of his true potential--when he deigns to perform at all. Agon-sama is no performing monkey for you trash. 8|
History: Agon and his twin Unsui were born in the capital city of Bellcius, Ivona, to a pair of unassuming upper-middle class nobodies, who in essence had ended up producing more than they knew how to handle. From the beginning, the younger twin distinguished himself--the first to learn to ride a bike (and pop a wheelie on it on his first day, no less, along with a host of other tricks), the one who brought home honors and trophies every other week. All eyes were on Agon, the shining genius who was good with sports and studies and ladies, while his embittered twin faded into the background.
Nearly everyone who knew him, including his teachers and especially his parents, chose to turn a blind eye to his increasingly delinquent behavior as he grew up--numerous streetfights that eventually evolved into barfights, drinking, extorting money from his classmates and then eventually going after crooks (who yielded more dough anyway), and skirt-chasing from a decidedly early age onwards (in other words, not a virgin by any means). The latter activity, amusingly enough, also tends to lead to his rescuing damsels in distress somewhat often--but only if they're lovely enough to be worth it, which means little old ladies are right out. Bottom line: as long as Agon brought home the gold and the grades, he got off scot-free.
There was a middle school classmate, however, who observed Agon's activities off the record quite closely--one Hiruma Youichi, who then apparently deemed the rogue genius useful to his own cause. They began a lengthy partnership that involved each using the other to his own ends--Agon shaking down the targets Hiruma rustled out while the latter steadily accumulated an endless supply of blackmail material on various unsuspecting citizens (ranging in importance from store owners to politicians). Bellcius being what it is, this led to their little duo becoming both rich and somewhat infamous in many circles. In fact, they accumulated quite a hefty chunk of properties within the city; mostly apartments that they then let for even more cash in their pockets. They even waylaid a few trading vessels now and again, for substantial profits--since Hiruma always managed to dig up dirt on the owners or the recipients of said vessels.
During this time, both of them also began developing a serious interest in airships and the various other vessels that navigated the skies. Thanks to Agon's innate abilities, he made a name for himself as an extraordinary pilot not too long after he first sat at the controls of a plane, and held a guaranteed spot in the Academy's roster ever since. By that point, however, it was also extremely rare to find a mechanic willing to work on any plane he was piloting, due to his unfortunate habit of taking any imperfection in his wings out on the one who was supposed to make sure it was flawless enough to keep up with him.
As a result, Agon did dabble in some tinkering, both with airship parts and otherwise, but it's still something he prefers to leave to pettier people, as flying is the true end of all the fooling with wrenches and greasy shit. In fact, meddling with the innards and bolts of his planes has made him even harder to work with than before, if at all possible, because he has become even more exacting as to the level of workmanship he's willing to deem acceptable to complement his skill (female mechanics with nice asses tend to get more leeway, though).
He and Hiruma, along with Unsui, all qualified for the Academy together (Agon with a scholarship he didn't actually need, and Hiruma with his ever-present little black book). His twin had by this time reconciled himself with being overshadowed by his genius sibling and the brothers' names seldom came up very far apart in the talk of the piloting world. However, that first year, Agon and Hiruma had it out with their first real difference of opinion, and as a result, Hiruma left the Academy, Bellcius, and actually, Ivona altogether to vanish into the Badlands. There have been murmurings of a reckless genius tactician among the Vohemaros, but Agon pays those no more mind than he does the rest of the gossip the trash drags in. Hiruma had already served his uses, anyway--Agon moved in to place sole claim on all the properties they'd managed to obtain together (rent to pretty females only).
After Hiruma left, Agon also moved swiftly to shorten the amount of time he himself had to spend at the Academy--through some obscure means (likely another leftover benefit from his erstwhile partner, aided by a little persuasion of his own devising), he managed to get himself certified and assigned to a ship within a preternaturally short period. His twin dogged him loyally while Agon spent the following year cycling through the entire Ivonian fleet, no captain able to handle his mercurial nature nor the chaos he brought to the crew. He put at least one into early retirement, in fact, and a couple of mutinies even rose in his wake, although they were never actually traced back to him. To this day, no captain has been deemed worthy of his genius--none has ever had any luck convincing Agon to fly for them. He has not seen combat nor indeed any real field exercise with his plane since his training at the Academy damn near a year ago, in fact.
Recently, the Ivonian brass, at their wits' end about what to do with this loose cannon and unwilling to let such a dangerous asset run amuck without their supervision, have finally resorted to foisting Agon on one extremely unwilling Captain Manfred von Karma. There's probably a pool going in headquarters and around the fleet on how long either or both will last (or the Victoria II itself).
SAMPLES-
Third Person (roleplay): "... Kongou Agon." Julia Riccetti, 20, just out of the Academy mechanic's track with higher-than-average grades (5'2'', curvy like billows at a Bellcius New Year's aerial parade, and prone to biting her tongue when overexcited), was glaring at him from beneath her dirt-smudged cap. Her fingers were fluttering just shy of the steaming carapace of the Flash Incubus VII, and she looked pretty darn cute just like that with her shirt half-unbuttoned.
"Oh, it's Julia." The pilot, who'd just touched down beside his plane and disengaged his parachute in a well-practiced flourish, had the gall to give her an unrepentant wink, goggles around his neck and sunglasses pulled down. "What, not even a 'welcome back' after I risked my neck out there in that goddamn junkheap? I see how it is." He leaned down and flicked her cap a little higher. "You're still having that boring love affair with your third wrench while the boys are away, right?"
She glared a little too hard and swatted at his hand, turning her back pointedly to give her attention to the plane. "Not funny, Kongou. And don't call the Incubus a junkheap!--Ow! Eeeegh... This is the sixth engine you've burnt to a crisp since you joined the Proteus! What the hell are you doing out there?!" It was almost a wail. While the I.F.U. Proteus wasn't the most stacked ship in the skies in terms of either weaponry or armor, its technological assets were nothing short of phenomenal. Only a few other ships in the fleet, and possibly the 4423 of Vohemar, if rumors were to be believed, could rival it in terms of staying at the cutting-edge in all departments. And this... this was the latest in triple-turbine accelerator technology that had just gone up in smoke. Again.
The object of her ire was still grinning. Like he thought he was going to worm his way out of this one. "I told you to call me Agon, Julia. Else Unko-chan's gonna think you're scolding him and you'll make him cry." She wasn't going to dignify that with an answer, or give him any more excuses to get in digs at his brother. It was some sort of sibling thing or something, but Agon took it just a bit far. Julia settled for just glaring, a bit more seriously this time.
He rustled a few fingers through his ridiculously long dreadklocks and, for a moment, looked almost abashed. "And hey, now. I'm just doing my job and flying, you know. Not my fucking fault if the plane can't keep up with a few hairpin-turns and maybe a quadruple loop or two." He was frustrated enough for it to show, and she could almost sympathize, but honestly--
"... How many turns in a row?" She had to pull down her cap again against the blinding grin. Pilots. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just like I don't think I want to know why you were out doing stupid tricks over Badlands airspace without any drills scheduled." Rake fingers through hair, massage skull. Repeat. "Do you have any fucking idea how long--O-ow ow!--these repairs are going to take?" And now her tongue was bleeding again, which was all around wonderful. Kongou Agon was going to be the death of her one day--she should've listened to the warnings through the grapevine about this guy.
Then again, being warned against that grin did little to nothing to lessen its impact in person. "Well, if I know Miss Julia, she's gonna have this baby up and running by tomorrow. Am I wrong?" The nerve of this guy. She quashed the momentary urge to slap that smile off his face. He needed to be taken down a few pegs, that was for sure, but the bastard was too damn sharp--violence just wasn't the answer here.
First and foremost, she was a mechanic. "Next time this happens, I'm installing a damper circuit, and then we'll see who's laughing." A pause, and she knew his eyes were narrowed behind those sunglasses. Still, it was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. Why on earth couldn't she get the stupid, simple ones? They always assigned her the damned troublemakers.
"Well, thanks." She was already crouching and peering beneath the fuselage, now that the hull had cooled off a little, running careful hands over what remained of the engine; but she could still hear the indulgent grin, and the gentle rustle of fabric as he leant over, the dull thump of his fist resting on the hull. "Say, Julia, you ever heard that old mechanics' saying?"
"... is that supposed to be a real question?" She had her wrench out; her mind elsewhere. She might know Agon a little better than she wanted to, but the Incubus was one of the best planes she'd ever worked on. She really was going to skin that bastard if he managed to actually total it one day.
"Hell yeah it's a real question." A brief chuckle, and she should start a tally mark of how many missed slaps that was. What was it with pilots and talking down to people? It seemed that, in the vast majority of cases, talent was inversely proportional to common courtesy around here. Damned military brats. The brass let them run wild; so long as they flew without fault, they could probably commit piracy and nobody would 'notice'. Hmph. He was still talking-- "They say it's easier to tell what the plane needs if you're up there with it." Meaningful pause. "What say you come on up with me sometime and I'll put this girl through her paces for you? I'll even get you a pair of those damn expensive headphones they use in the recon room."
She sighed, pausing her busy hands for a moment to tap one foot firmly against a nonvital part of the plane, bellyside. "Shoo. Scram. You're distracting me if you want this crap done in twenty-four hours. And headphones have got nothing to do with anything, you lush."
"... So that's a yes." She threw her wrench, and he laughed the whole way away without even bothering to pause ducking.
It happened right around the next plane over, which was sitting quiet and abandoned in the shade cast by the high-intensity spotlights Julia was currently using to work, and was not unexpected. Still, the scrawny, scruffy-faced redhead who'd probably been lurking back there the whole time like the trashy excuse for a human being he was would have been hard put to ever get the jump on Kongou Agon.
"--Something you wanted?" his voice was just as calm as if he'd still been chatting up the girl clanking away under his plane, a touch lower and a shade darker under the apparently casual grip that had little Caesar Halverson gasping and knee-knocking next to him.
Caesar rattled off something at the speed of light, tongue tripping over itself. "What the hell was that? Speak up." A jump and another gasp as he tightened his grip for an instant, fingers digging into flesh and bone.
"I s-said keep away from Juli." The kid's eyes were so small you only got a proper look at them when they were bugging out. It was funny enough that Agon didn't bother to pop them out of his skull--immediately, anyway. Instead, he tightened his grip further to a low whine from his prey, and dragged him out of his hiding spot into the lights. Caesar cringed back, obviously not having anticipated being within hearing distance of Julia for whatever this was, whatever he thought he had been about to do.
His captor took his time, completely confident in having the upper hand--tracing the visible feature of the girl in front of them with his eyes in a decidedly suggestive fashion, and merely laughing when his victim finally saw red and tried out a punch with his other hand. The resulting tussle ended in Caesar squeaking and Agon enjoying the creak of bones across bony back as he easily toed the line between bending and breaking the arm he held. Julia worked on, oblivious over the sound of her wrenches against the Incubus' innards.
He grinned to himself, not bothering to save his gloating. Julia Riccetti, 20: a delectable piece--and very, very much taken. In a manner of speaking. "You're about a hundred years away from telling me what to do, punk." Caesar jerked, and that was probably something tearing, right there--no snapping, just yet. "You want to call that your girlfriend? Sure. Just make sure to tell her you won't be able to put out, because you wound up in the wrong fight, you hear?"
"W-What--"
He chuckled at the fearful scrambling for words, amended his grip. Caesar stopped cold. Smart, considering he was literally, pretty much, sitting at knifepoint. He wasn't smart enough to hold his tongue all the way, though--that was the fun thing about these little people. "You think she's going to want a creep like you? Juli's got a good head on her shoulders--she knows trouble when she sees it." Still trying to glare over his shoulder in his position? Trash would be trash, after all.
"And you think," the words were merely a hiss, but Caesar whimpered anyway, "she'll want a nerdy mechanic without enough balls to get up in a plane? Huh?" A flick of his wrist. Caesar struggled without the breath to scream. "I'm doing her a favor, you shitty little trash. Just showing her a demonstration of what she'd metaphorically be getting."
Caesar screamed.
"... What in fucking hell was that?" Beautiful when angry was a trait many women possessed, but Julia made everything a little rounder, and slightly more bite-sized.
"Aaa~? Hell if I know. He had a seizure or something. Always knew that kid was off sniffing the gas leaks while we weren't looking. Kidding, kidding," he added as Julia's hands balled into fists.
"He was taken away on a stretcher, Agon. And you were the last person with him." She tapped her foot and directed a narrow-eyed glare his way. "Do you mind explaining what you two were doing? Hmm?"
"Is that what it takes to get you to call my name?" He held up his hands in a gesture of peace when the glare intensified, but didn't bother to hide the half-grin he wore. "Just having a little chat. I knew he was having trouble with that acrophobia and all--I thought he could use some advice! That's all. Really. Just ask the kid when he wakes up."
"You? Helpful? Don't make me laugh, Kongou." She'd recovered from the initial blinding panic, and while her words were stinging, her posture was that of someone trapped, arms rubbing at each other. "I know... he has some problems. He..." A sigh, and she fell rather than sat onto a nearby crate, gripping the edge with feeling. "He wanted to be a pilot more than anything, once. He still won't tell me what happened, but it ruined his eyes." Ah, so that explained the little piggy squint. That was a sob story if he'd ever heard one, and he'd heard plenty from men braver than the little dipshit.
"You can't see, you can't fly." It was the rule of thumb, and she stiffened at the recitation of it, but he just looked down at her with raised eyebrow. "If he's any kind of a pilot, he knows that. If he's any kind of a mechanic, he knows they've gotta have about as much guts as a pilot. There isn't any room for him in this fucking hierarchy if he's going to stay glued to the ground like a mole. But," she forgot to get the number on that smile, much too busy being caught between seething and confusion, "he went and busted into the mechanics placements like a dumbshit. Know why that is?"
There was a long silence. He stood, loose and easy, and watched her arrive at her own conclusions. "... Thank you, Agon." Watched her square her shoulders and stand, aim herself in general direction of the infirmary. "Let's go flying sometime, all right?" A bright fleeting smile over her shoulder and she was gone.
Too fast to see the half-smile on his face creep into a proper grin and then a smirk.
Little Caesar Halverson was not a man brave enough to know what was worth fighting for.
Name/Nickname: Fyre
AIM/E-mail/Contact:
[AIM] eighth helleluia
[E-mail] hotaru.no.tamashii[at]gmail[dot]com
LJ: fyretoppaaa
CHARACTER INFORMATION-
Canon Character and Series: Kongou Agon [Eyeshield 21]
In-Game Name: Sub-Lieutenant Kongou Agon
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Position & Ship: Pilot aboard the Victoria II
Appearance: Agon was probably born with a normal head of hair, but over time, as with any young hoodlum, it's been styled and bleached to high heaven. Lately, though (lately being most of his high school and Academy career), he's been favoring dreadlocks. While he isn't exactly freakish in size, he does tower over most of the population and is powerfully-built to boot.
Clothing-wise, his everyday wear normally falls somewhere in the neighborhood of casual-chic and sportsy, with a passing fondness for traditional bead necklaces. Uniforms don't sit well with him unless they're smart enough to impress the ladies. His sunglasses are pretty much fused to his face (even under his goggles) unless he's greeting a pretty girl for the first time--then he has a tendency to whip them off to complement his charmer's grin.
Being an outdoors sort of guy most of the time, he's pretty tan compared to most city-dwelling Ivonians. Finally, he has the image of a coiled dragon inked across his back, starting with the head at his left shoulder and twisting all the way down.
Personality: To put it simply, Agon is a spoiled brat and an unrepentant jackass, although when he puts his mind to it, he can be charming enough that even those who should know better find themselves somewhat at a loss. This latter trait is almost exclusive to when he's pursuing a new girl, particularly one of the more elusive ones. He isn't interested in anything but good-looking girls, though, and makes sure everyone knows it, too.
In addition to being a chauvinist and unabashed hedonist, then (one-night stands are his bragging point), he's also so used to getting his way that he will either completely ignore or forcibly brush aside any obstacles. The prestige of being a 'once-in-a-century' genius means that even the higher ranks of authority tend to indulge him more often than not, never mind the multitudes of girls he's gone through, or friends (if anyone can actually claim that title) and family.
Agon has likely never trained or studied much more than a day in any pursuit in his entire life--manual tasks coming to him with magical ease; and in terms of brains, he's pretty damnably intelligent, as well--so good luck trying to pull one over him. As a pilot, instead of drills, he prefers to spend all his time skirt-chasing or extorting money from hapless passersby and small-time thugs. And since, when he does allow himself to be called out of the hangar, he tends to annihilate anything in his way, he also hasn't spent a great deal of time in actual combat--both due to his own laziness and to his superiors' reluctance to use the trump card unless they have to (the consequences tend to be greater if they happen to get him out there for something he doesn't consider worth his time, in the end).
The lack of field experience has done nothing to temper his confidence, though--bordering on arrogance, but not quite, considering his actual level of skill. Unless he recognizes you as a genius or otherwise useful in some way, or you happen to somehow one-up him in any way, shape or form (or you're a cute girl), he will consider you trash, and nothing more than trash. And if you've outlived your usefulness, whether you're a partner or a tally in his sexual adventures, he won't hesitate to relegate you to the latter category--or to let you know it by any means he deems fit.
Perhaps as a result of his own shunning of practice or training of any kind, Agon despises anyone who works hard to attain their goals--he believes in the absolute supremacy of natural talent, and will summarily crush anyone seeking to prove otherwise. He has a pretty quick temper if you know which buttons to push, and not a very good rein on it besides.
When he actually makes a decision to go after someone or something, though--that's when Agon's at his most dangerous. He will focus entirely on that person and that task, and will use any means necessary to bring them down--and woe betide anyone or anything that happens into his way until he does so. This is an extension of the narrowing of focus that occurs when he enters his plane for battle--not even the most adorable girl can sway him then.
Abilities/Weapons: Physically, Agon is a powerhouse--he can easily take down an entire gang of (relatively human, lightly armed) thugs without even breaking a sweat. As a matter of fact, no one has yet seen an end to his stamina. The power of his grip is such that he can bend metal one-handed, never mind limbs and (quite possibly) necks.
As a result, he's usually only lightly armed--perhaps a switchblade, or at best, a small concealed knife. Most of the dirty work is done with his bare hands alone.
He is also able to master any physical task or mental challenge set before him in a ridiculously short amount of time--learning new concepts as well as new techniques and strategies is less than moment or two's consideration. This makes him able to be incredibly versatile and unpredictable in the field, although he's usually too proud to resort to anything but his own style and methods. It also means that he could probably cover quite well for nearly any position requiring any level of skill or expertise on an airship--provided you can make it worth his while.
His real skill, though, lies in what has been called the God-Speed Impulse--the fact that the electrical impulses that govern reflex and movement travel from his eyes to his muscles in approximately 0.11 seconds--a reaction time at the limits of human ability. This ability is triggered by sight. [It's been shown in canon that he can in fact break the 0.10 second limit to human reaction speed, so he'll likely develop to that point sometime in-game.]
While this means that he naturally leans towards being more of an instinctive fighter than a strategic one, anyone who thinks he can't flip straight to the other end of the spectrum is in for an even worse round of humiliation than they would have faced otherwise.
Weaknesses: Despite his formidable strength and special abilities, Agon is indeed only human. No matter how fast or how cunning he is, little of that matters if he can't move--or if his plane is fatally incapacitated. In fact, not all planes can keep up with the sheer speed of his reactions, which is a source of constant frustration for him. For that reason, he has a tendency to get into rows with mechanics and, more often than not, to total his planes trying to get them to perform up to par.
And since his God-Speed Impulse is triggered by sight, his blind spots are fatal angles from which to ambush. This may be remedied, in some part, by technology and strategy, but the fact remains that whether he's piloting or fighting, if he can't see it, he can't react to it.
His proud complacence means that he's easily riled, especially by trash who think they can overcome the barrier between average and genius. It also means that improvement is foreign to him--you can't improve on what's already perfect. As a result, he's always performing perhaps just a hair's breadth short of his true potential--when he deigns to perform at all. Agon-sama is no performing monkey for you trash. 8|
History: Agon and his twin Unsui were born in the capital city of Bellcius, Ivona, to a pair of unassuming upper-middle class nobodies, who in essence had ended up producing more than they knew how to handle. From the beginning, the younger twin distinguished himself--the first to learn to ride a bike (and pop a wheelie on it on his first day, no less, along with a host of other tricks), the one who brought home honors and trophies every other week. All eyes were on Agon, the shining genius who was good with sports and studies and ladies, while his embittered twin faded into the background.
Nearly everyone who knew him, including his teachers and especially his parents, chose to turn a blind eye to his increasingly delinquent behavior as he grew up--numerous streetfights that eventually evolved into barfights, drinking, extorting money from his classmates and then eventually going after crooks (who yielded more dough anyway), and skirt-chasing from a decidedly early age onwards (in other words, not a virgin by any means). The latter activity, amusingly enough, also tends to lead to his rescuing damsels in distress somewhat often--but only if they're lovely enough to be worth it, which means little old ladies are right out. Bottom line: as long as Agon brought home the gold and the grades, he got off scot-free.
There was a middle school classmate, however, who observed Agon's activities off the record quite closely--one Hiruma Youichi, who then apparently deemed the rogue genius useful to his own cause. They began a lengthy partnership that involved each using the other to his own ends--Agon shaking down the targets Hiruma rustled out while the latter steadily accumulated an endless supply of blackmail material on various unsuspecting citizens (ranging in importance from store owners to politicians). Bellcius being what it is, this led to their little duo becoming both rich and somewhat infamous in many circles. In fact, they accumulated quite a hefty chunk of properties within the city; mostly apartments that they then let for even more cash in their pockets. They even waylaid a few trading vessels now and again, for substantial profits--since Hiruma always managed to dig up dirt on the owners or the recipients of said vessels.
During this time, both of them also began developing a serious interest in airships and the various other vessels that navigated the skies. Thanks to Agon's innate abilities, he made a name for himself as an extraordinary pilot not too long after he first sat at the controls of a plane, and held a guaranteed spot in the Academy's roster ever since. By that point, however, it was also extremely rare to find a mechanic willing to work on any plane he was piloting, due to his unfortunate habit of taking any imperfection in his wings out on the one who was supposed to make sure it was flawless enough to keep up with him.
As a result, Agon did dabble in some tinkering, both with airship parts and otherwise, but it's still something he prefers to leave to pettier people, as flying is the true end of all the fooling with wrenches and greasy shit. In fact, meddling with the innards and bolts of his planes has made him even harder to work with than before, if at all possible, because he has become even more exacting as to the level of workmanship he's willing to deem acceptable to complement his skill (female mechanics with nice asses tend to get more leeway, though).
He and Hiruma, along with Unsui, all qualified for the Academy together (Agon with a scholarship he didn't actually need, and Hiruma with his ever-present little black book). His twin had by this time reconciled himself with being overshadowed by his genius sibling and the brothers' names seldom came up very far apart in the talk of the piloting world. However, that first year, Agon and Hiruma had it out with their first real difference of opinion, and as a result, Hiruma left the Academy, Bellcius, and actually, Ivona altogether to vanish into the Badlands. There have been murmurings of a reckless genius tactician among the Vohemaros, but Agon pays those no more mind than he does the rest of the gossip the trash drags in. Hiruma had already served his uses, anyway--Agon moved in to place sole claim on all the properties they'd managed to obtain together (rent to pretty females only).
After Hiruma left, Agon also moved swiftly to shorten the amount of time he himself had to spend at the Academy--through some obscure means (likely another leftover benefit from his erstwhile partner, aided by a little persuasion of his own devising), he managed to get himself certified and assigned to a ship within a preternaturally short period. His twin dogged him loyally while Agon spent the following year cycling through the entire Ivonian fleet, no captain able to handle his mercurial nature nor the chaos he brought to the crew. He put at least one into early retirement, in fact, and a couple of mutinies even rose in his wake, although they were never actually traced back to him. To this day, no captain has been deemed worthy of his genius--none has ever had any luck convincing Agon to fly for them. He has not seen combat nor indeed any real field exercise with his plane since his training at the Academy damn near a year ago, in fact.
Recently, the Ivonian brass, at their wits' end about what to do with this loose cannon and unwilling to let such a dangerous asset run amuck without their supervision, have finally resorted to foisting Agon on one extremely unwilling Captain Manfred von Karma. There's probably a pool going in headquarters and around the fleet on how long either or both will last (or the Victoria II itself).
SAMPLES-
Third Person (roleplay): "... Kongou Agon." Julia Riccetti, 20, just out of the Academy mechanic's track with higher-than-average grades (5'2'', curvy like billows at a Bellcius New Year's aerial parade, and prone to biting her tongue when overexcited), was glaring at him from beneath her dirt-smudged cap. Her fingers were fluttering just shy of the steaming carapace of the Flash Incubus VII, and she looked pretty darn cute just like that with her shirt half-unbuttoned.
"Oh, it's Julia." The pilot, who'd just touched down beside his plane and disengaged his parachute in a well-practiced flourish, had the gall to give her an unrepentant wink, goggles around his neck and sunglasses pulled down. "What, not even a 'welcome back' after I risked my neck out there in that goddamn junkheap? I see how it is." He leaned down and flicked her cap a little higher. "You're still having that boring love affair with your third wrench while the boys are away, right?"
She glared a little too hard and swatted at his hand, turning her back pointedly to give her attention to the plane. "Not funny, Kongou. And don't call the Incubus a junkheap!--Ow! Eeeegh... This is the sixth engine you've burnt to a crisp since you joined the Proteus! What the hell are you doing out there?!" It was almost a wail. While the I.F.U. Proteus wasn't the most stacked ship in the skies in terms of either weaponry or armor, its technological assets were nothing short of phenomenal. Only a few other ships in the fleet, and possibly the 4423 of Vohemar, if rumors were to be believed, could rival it in terms of staying at the cutting-edge in all departments. And this... this was the latest in triple-turbine accelerator technology that had just gone up in smoke. Again.
The object of her ire was still grinning. Like he thought he was going to worm his way out of this one. "I told you to call me Agon, Julia. Else Unko-chan's gonna think you're scolding him and you'll make him cry." She wasn't going to dignify that with an answer, or give him any more excuses to get in digs at his brother. It was some sort of sibling thing or something, but Agon took it just a bit far. Julia settled for just glaring, a bit more seriously this time.
He rustled a few fingers through his ridiculously long dreadklocks and, for a moment, looked almost abashed. "And hey, now. I'm just doing my job and flying, you know. Not my fucking fault if the plane can't keep up with a few hairpin-turns and maybe a quadruple loop or two." He was frustrated enough for it to show, and she could almost sympathize, but honestly--
"... How many turns in a row?" She had to pull down her cap again against the blinding grin. Pilots. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just like I don't think I want to know why you were out doing stupid tricks over Badlands airspace without any drills scheduled." Rake fingers through hair, massage skull. Repeat. "Do you have any fucking idea how long--O-ow ow!--these repairs are going to take?" And now her tongue was bleeding again, which was all around wonderful. Kongou Agon was going to be the death of her one day--she should've listened to the warnings through the grapevine about this guy.
Then again, being warned against that grin did little to nothing to lessen its impact in person. "Well, if I know Miss Julia, she's gonna have this baby up and running by tomorrow. Am I wrong?" The nerve of this guy. She quashed the momentary urge to slap that smile off his face. He needed to be taken down a few pegs, that was for sure, but the bastard was too damn sharp--violence just wasn't the answer here.
First and foremost, she was a mechanic. "Next time this happens, I'm installing a damper circuit, and then we'll see who's laughing." A pause, and she knew his eyes were narrowed behind those sunglasses. Still, it was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. Why on earth couldn't she get the stupid, simple ones? They always assigned her the damned troublemakers.
"Well, thanks." She was already crouching and peering beneath the fuselage, now that the hull had cooled off a little, running careful hands over what remained of the engine; but she could still hear the indulgent grin, and the gentle rustle of fabric as he leant over, the dull thump of his fist resting on the hull. "Say, Julia, you ever heard that old mechanics' saying?"
"... is that supposed to be a real question?" She had her wrench out; her mind elsewhere. She might know Agon a little better than she wanted to, but the Incubus was one of the best planes she'd ever worked on. She really was going to skin that bastard if he managed to actually total it one day.
"Hell yeah it's a real question." A brief chuckle, and she should start a tally mark of how many missed slaps that was. What was it with pilots and talking down to people? It seemed that, in the vast majority of cases, talent was inversely proportional to common courtesy around here. Damned military brats. The brass let them run wild; so long as they flew without fault, they could probably commit piracy and nobody would 'notice'. Hmph. He was still talking-- "They say it's easier to tell what the plane needs if you're up there with it." Meaningful pause. "What say you come on up with me sometime and I'll put this girl through her paces for you? I'll even get you a pair of those damn expensive headphones they use in the recon room."
She sighed, pausing her busy hands for a moment to tap one foot firmly against a nonvital part of the plane, bellyside. "Shoo. Scram. You're distracting me if you want this crap done in twenty-four hours. And headphones have got nothing to do with anything, you lush."
"... So that's a yes." She threw her wrench, and he laughed the whole way away without even bothering to pause ducking.
It happened right around the next plane over, which was sitting quiet and abandoned in the shade cast by the high-intensity spotlights Julia was currently using to work, and was not unexpected. Still, the scrawny, scruffy-faced redhead who'd probably been lurking back there the whole time like the trashy excuse for a human being he was would have been hard put to ever get the jump on Kongou Agon.
"--Something you wanted?" his voice was just as calm as if he'd still been chatting up the girl clanking away under his plane, a touch lower and a shade darker under the apparently casual grip that had little Caesar Halverson gasping and knee-knocking next to him.
Caesar rattled off something at the speed of light, tongue tripping over itself. "What the hell was that? Speak up." A jump and another gasp as he tightened his grip for an instant, fingers digging into flesh and bone.
"I s-said keep away from Juli." The kid's eyes were so small you only got a proper look at them when they were bugging out. It was funny enough that Agon didn't bother to pop them out of his skull--immediately, anyway. Instead, he tightened his grip further to a low whine from his prey, and dragged him out of his hiding spot into the lights. Caesar cringed back, obviously not having anticipated being within hearing distance of Julia for whatever this was, whatever he thought he had been about to do.
His captor took his time, completely confident in having the upper hand--tracing the visible feature of the girl in front of them with his eyes in a decidedly suggestive fashion, and merely laughing when his victim finally saw red and tried out a punch with his other hand. The resulting tussle ended in Caesar squeaking and Agon enjoying the creak of bones across bony back as he easily toed the line between bending and breaking the arm he held. Julia worked on, oblivious over the sound of her wrenches against the Incubus' innards.
He grinned to himself, not bothering to save his gloating. Julia Riccetti, 20: a delectable piece--and very, very much taken. In a manner of speaking. "You're about a hundred years away from telling me what to do, punk." Caesar jerked, and that was probably something tearing, right there--no snapping, just yet. "You want to call that your girlfriend? Sure. Just make sure to tell her you won't be able to put out, because you wound up in the wrong fight, you hear?"
"W-What--"
He chuckled at the fearful scrambling for words, amended his grip. Caesar stopped cold. Smart, considering he was literally, pretty much, sitting at knifepoint. He wasn't smart enough to hold his tongue all the way, though--that was the fun thing about these little people. "You think she's going to want a creep like you? Juli's got a good head on her shoulders--she knows trouble when she sees it." Still trying to glare over his shoulder in his position? Trash would be trash, after all.
"And you think," the words were merely a hiss, but Caesar whimpered anyway, "she'll want a nerdy mechanic without enough balls to get up in a plane? Huh?" A flick of his wrist. Caesar struggled without the breath to scream. "I'm doing her a favor, you shitty little trash. Just showing her a demonstration of what she'd metaphorically be getting."
Caesar screamed.
"... What in fucking hell was that?" Beautiful when angry was a trait many women possessed, but Julia made everything a little rounder, and slightly more bite-sized.
"Aaa~? Hell if I know. He had a seizure or something. Always knew that kid was off sniffing the gas leaks while we weren't looking. Kidding, kidding," he added as Julia's hands balled into fists.
"He was taken away on a stretcher, Agon. And you were the last person with him." She tapped her foot and directed a narrow-eyed glare his way. "Do you mind explaining what you two were doing? Hmm?"
"Is that what it takes to get you to call my name?" He held up his hands in a gesture of peace when the glare intensified, but didn't bother to hide the half-grin he wore. "Just having a little chat. I knew he was having trouble with that acrophobia and all--I thought he could use some advice! That's all. Really. Just ask the kid when he wakes up."
"You? Helpful? Don't make me laugh, Kongou." She'd recovered from the initial blinding panic, and while her words were stinging, her posture was that of someone trapped, arms rubbing at each other. "I know... he has some problems. He..." A sigh, and she fell rather than sat onto a nearby crate, gripping the edge with feeling. "He wanted to be a pilot more than anything, once. He still won't tell me what happened, but it ruined his eyes." Ah, so that explained the little piggy squint. That was a sob story if he'd ever heard one, and he'd heard plenty from men braver than the little dipshit.
"You can't see, you can't fly." It was the rule of thumb, and she stiffened at the recitation of it, but he just looked down at her with raised eyebrow. "If he's any kind of a pilot, he knows that. If he's any kind of a mechanic, he knows they've gotta have about as much guts as a pilot. There isn't any room for him in this fucking hierarchy if he's going to stay glued to the ground like a mole. But," she forgot to get the number on that smile, much too busy being caught between seething and confusion, "he went and busted into the mechanics placements like a dumbshit. Know why that is?"
There was a long silence. He stood, loose and easy, and watched her arrive at her own conclusions. "... Thank you, Agon." Watched her square her shoulders and stand, aim herself in general direction of the infirmary. "Let's go flying sometime, all right?" A bright fleeting smile over her shoulder and she was gone.
Too fast to see the half-smile on his face creep into a proper grin and then a smirk.
Little Caesar Halverson was not a man brave enough to know what was worth fighting for.