(no subject)
APPLICATION
THE PLAYER
Name: Pattra (bhujerba)
Age: 17
Email: vitalstarfag at gmail
AIM: calling cavalry
RP Experience: A few years.
THE CHARACTER
Name: Kurt Friedrich Michael (PB: Clive Owen)
Power: Accelerated probability (?)
Age/DOB: 37, April 23
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Occupation: Detective, NYPD
Marital Status: Widower.
Personality: Crass, tough-minded, and a little bull-headed on the side, Kurt really loves nothing more than laying down the law. When it comes to work, business is business and there's no room for anything else. He loves his deadlines, he loves his job--he loves putting the pieces together right on the scene and giving 110% to everything he approaches. Every case that comes across his desk must be solved, as far as he's concerned, because in his mind, there's nothing worse than a loose end. Of course, when it comes to what he wants to approach, it's a different matter--he knows when things aren't his business (or rather, he knows when things are his business, but would rather ignore the fact), and it takes a hell of a lot of convincing to make him do anything he doesn't want to do. When times are hard, he's incredibly defensive of those who are close to him, but even so, when he's with his family, the whole thing subsides. He makes it out to look like the big guy on campus on the outside, but on the inside, hey. He's still kind of awkward, still kind of sweet, and still very much loves his kid. So hey, just try and get to know him--he's not a bad guy at heart. And despite his grim face, he really doesn't mind a joke or two.
View on the School Idea/Govt. Rumor: Absolute, balls off the wall stupid. That Williams guy? He was a freak and had a freak power. Those kinds of guys need to go to an asylum. As for me? I'm normal. Completely normal. I mean, what the hell do you think I'm going to do with this power? Predict people to death? Yeah, that's about as probable as me winning the goddamn lottery (oh look at that, I made a superpower prediction just there. Want to lock me up?). In all seriousness, look at my permanent record--I'm completely clean. Look at my medical records--I'm completely sane! The School is a waste of time, so why do people like me need to get called because a few of us power-punks are retarded? But hey. Maybe if they paid me to go to that godawful place, I wouldn't mind it so much.
But while we're on topic, God forbid that the whole lock up happens. Honestly, as if the government could really round up all the freaks and keep them under control. You know, a government lock up is exactly what'll cause another Michael Williams to happen, and then everyone'll be sorry about ever trying to pry open this can o' worms.
Family: Father: Stephen (71); Mother: Agnes (70); Wife: Diane (deceased, 34 at time of death); Sister: Christine (32); Daughter: Mary (5)
History: Born and raised in Brooklyn, Long Island, Kurt was raised to love the city. His father, Stephen, was a journalist who spent most of his time either out on the town or hunched over his desk, hoovering an endless supply of Folgers, while his mother, Agnes, worked as a middle school English teacher who spent most of her time at faculty meetings, arguing for funding, or grading grippingly awful five paragraph essays. But were they happy? Well, yeah, more or less. It probably wouldn't be right to say that Kurt didn't mind the lack of attention, seeing how he kind of did, but he tried not to show it. He knew that his parents were busy people, and figured that if he didn't want to be lonely, he'd just have to act busy, too.
To tell the truth, there isn't much to say about his early life. He lived and let live, I guess, and eventually he went to college, majored in Criminal Justice, and took a detective job with the NYPD. His first year on the job, he met Diane Mason, then awkwardly sauntered around for a month before finally having to get asked out by the girl. It wasn't until his first date that Kurt realized his power.
Imagine charging cars, almost midnight in Manhattan, some drunk son of a bitch veering between lanes, and two pedestrians on a crossroad. Unpredictable swerving made predictable at lightning speed. Imagine ten thousand possibilities, imagine each one ending up in someone dead, someone dying, broken limbs and broken hearts except for one. And hey, Kurt was a smart kid. He took the right one.
Let's call it "super calm" in a time of "intense physical and mental strain." Let's call it "magic." He called it "natural." In fact, he thought it was normal--he thought that, hey, anyone good under pressure would think and act the same way. Having never used his powers to his fullest extent, having never experimented--well. It was natural to think that nothing was going on.
So there he was, married at 30, and had a kid at 32. At 35, life did a 180. At 35, Kurt Friedrich Michael is at work, on scene, when he gets a call that says his wife has been in a car accident. At 35 and a day, Diane Michael, née Mason, is declared dead at 8:43AM. At 36, what Kurt called "natural" is called a "power" by the government. At 37, Mary Agnes Michael is all he has left. At 37 Kurt pays his respects and moves onwards. At 37 Mary Agnes Michael is his world. Though at 37, Kurt Friedrich Michael sometimes still thinks, "If it's a motherfucking power, how come it didn't save Diane?" But what can you do? Not like superman here could do anything.
Journal Writing Sample:
I'm supposed to talk to people through on this thing? I’m not even sure anymore. And I can’t even understand half the stuff that’s on here because all you... people keep putting in 3’s for e’s and all that jazz. Is that supposed to be cool?
Don't you "hipsters" have something more important to read? To tell the truth, I don't even know if that's the right word to call you guys, anymore. You all make slang faster than the interns at work can shit their pants on the job, and I tell you. That’s some pretty fast shit.
...yeah, all right, I'm done.
RP Thread Sample:
They had the balls, he thought. He couldn't believe that they even had the balls to ask him that. To tell him that.
It was just another evening--another evening walk home. It was another evening walk home from that goddamn "School" the government had created, and Kurt Michael should have been happy--though he was far from it. Most of the people there felt relieved when they could pass through the school doors and go home, but just looking at the place was enough to piss him off--enough to offend him. Kurt Michael was a detective of the NYPD, and here he was, at this godawful School instead of on scene, on a case, on the job--instead, he was stuck in this school for people who were freaks of nature. Which, he supposed, the government thought he was, too.
But at the school there were people who could fucking magically combust things, people who could fly, people who could fucking grow plants with their minds--what the fuck ever! But he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to sitting in class with the other freaks of nature, with the other "power punks," as he and the guys called them at work (ironically). But then, they had the balls. The faculty had the fucking balls.
"Sir, we'd like to bring your daughter in for testing."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, seeing how you, as the parent, have these 'supernatural powers,' there is a possibility that you have passed on the gene to your daughter, so we would like to--"
"--Mary is normal."
"Sir--"
"--Look, as a parent, I'd know. I live with her, in case you haven't noticed--and I myself would notice if she was shooting lasers out of her eyes or rewiring my computer with her mind."
"Sir, wait. We are not trying to override your authority as a parent, however--"
"Yo. I'm done talking. If you want to call me a freak, that's fine, but you leave Mary the fuck alone."
They had the fucking balls, he thought as he opened the door to apartment 309.
"Daddy, you're home!"
"Sure am, pumpkin."
"Did you miss me?"
"Sure did."
ALSO this is a contact post. Feel free to comment with whatever :)
THE PLAYER
Name: Pattra (bhujerba)
Age: 17
Email: vitalstarfag at gmail
AIM: calling cavalry
RP Experience: A few years.
THE CHARACTER
Name: Kurt Friedrich Michael (PB: Clive Owen)
Power: Accelerated probability (?)
Age/DOB: 37, April 23
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Occupation: Detective, NYPD
Marital Status: Widower.
Personality: Crass, tough-minded, and a little bull-headed on the side, Kurt really loves nothing more than laying down the law. When it comes to work, business is business and there's no room for anything else. He loves his deadlines, he loves his job--he loves putting the pieces together right on the scene and giving 110% to everything he approaches. Every case that comes across his desk must be solved, as far as he's concerned, because in his mind, there's nothing worse than a loose end. Of course, when it comes to what he wants to approach, it's a different matter--he knows when things aren't his business (or rather, he knows when things are his business, but would rather ignore the fact), and it takes a hell of a lot of convincing to make him do anything he doesn't want to do. When times are hard, he's incredibly defensive of those who are close to him, but even so, when he's with his family, the whole thing subsides. He makes it out to look like the big guy on campus on the outside, but on the inside, hey. He's still kind of awkward, still kind of sweet, and still very much loves his kid. So hey, just try and get to know him--he's not a bad guy at heart. And despite his grim face, he really doesn't mind a joke or two.
View on the School Idea/Govt. Rumor: Absolute, balls off the wall stupid. That Williams guy? He was a freak and had a freak power. Those kinds of guys need to go to an asylum. As for me? I'm normal. Completely normal. I mean, what the hell do you think I'm going to do with this power? Predict people to death? Yeah, that's about as probable as me winning the goddamn lottery (oh look at that, I made a superpower prediction just there. Want to lock me up?). In all seriousness, look at my permanent record--I'm completely clean. Look at my medical records--I'm completely sane! The School is a waste of time, so why do people like me need to get called because a few of us power-punks are retarded? But hey. Maybe if they paid me to go to that godawful place, I wouldn't mind it so much.
But while we're on topic, God forbid that the whole lock up happens. Honestly, as if the government could really round up all the freaks and keep them under control. You know, a government lock up is exactly what'll cause another Michael Williams to happen, and then everyone'll be sorry about ever trying to pry open this can o' worms.
Family: Father: Stephen (71); Mother: Agnes (70); Wife: Diane (deceased, 34 at time of death); Sister: Christine (32); Daughter: Mary (5)
History: Born and raised in Brooklyn, Long Island, Kurt was raised to love the city. His father, Stephen, was a journalist who spent most of his time either out on the town or hunched over his desk, hoovering an endless supply of Folgers, while his mother, Agnes, worked as a middle school English teacher who spent most of her time at faculty meetings, arguing for funding, or grading grippingly awful five paragraph essays. But were they happy? Well, yeah, more or less. It probably wouldn't be right to say that Kurt didn't mind the lack of attention, seeing how he kind of did, but he tried not to show it. He knew that his parents were busy people, and figured that if he didn't want to be lonely, he'd just have to act busy, too.
To tell the truth, there isn't much to say about his early life. He lived and let live, I guess, and eventually he went to college, majored in Criminal Justice, and took a detective job with the NYPD. His first year on the job, he met Diane Mason, then awkwardly sauntered around for a month before finally having to get asked out by the girl. It wasn't until his first date that Kurt realized his power.
Imagine charging cars, almost midnight in Manhattan, some drunk son of a bitch veering between lanes, and two pedestrians on a crossroad. Unpredictable swerving made predictable at lightning speed. Imagine ten thousand possibilities, imagine each one ending up in someone dead, someone dying, broken limbs and broken hearts except for one. And hey, Kurt was a smart kid. He took the right one.
Let's call it "super calm" in a time of "intense physical and mental strain." Let's call it "magic." He called it "natural." In fact, he thought it was normal--he thought that, hey, anyone good under pressure would think and act the same way. Having never used his powers to his fullest extent, having never experimented--well. It was natural to think that nothing was going on.
So there he was, married at 30, and had a kid at 32. At 35, life did a 180. At 35, Kurt Friedrich Michael is at work, on scene, when he gets a call that says his wife has been in a car accident. At 35 and a day, Diane Michael, née Mason, is declared dead at 8:43AM. At 36, what Kurt called "natural" is called a "power" by the government. At 37, Mary Agnes Michael is all he has left. At 37 Kurt pays his respects and moves onwards. At 37 Mary Agnes Michael is his world. Though at 37, Kurt Friedrich Michael sometimes still thinks, "If it's a motherfucking power, how come it didn't save Diane?" But what can you do? Not like superman here could do anything.
Journal Writing Sample:
I'm supposed to talk to people through on this thing? I’m not even sure anymore. And I can’t even understand half the stuff that’s on here because all you... people keep putting in 3’s for e’s and all that jazz. Is that supposed to be cool?
Don't you "hipsters" have something more important to read? To tell the truth, I don't even know if that's the right word to call you guys, anymore. You all make slang faster than the interns at work can shit their pants on the job, and I tell you. That’s some pretty fast shit.
...yeah, all right, I'm done.
RP Thread Sample:
They had the balls, he thought. He couldn't believe that they even had the balls to ask him that. To tell him that.
It was just another evening--another evening walk home. It was another evening walk home from that goddamn "School" the government had created, and Kurt Michael should have been happy--though he was far from it. Most of the people there felt relieved when they could pass through the school doors and go home, but just looking at the place was enough to piss him off--enough to offend him. Kurt Michael was a detective of the NYPD, and here he was, at this godawful School instead of on scene, on a case, on the job--instead, he was stuck in this school for people who were freaks of nature. Which, he supposed, the government thought he was, too.
But at the school there were people who could fucking magically combust things, people who could fly, people who could fucking grow plants with their minds--what the fuck ever! But he had gotten used to it. He had gotten used to sitting in class with the other freaks of nature, with the other "power punks," as he and the guys called them at work (ironically). But then, they had the balls. The faculty had the fucking balls.
"Sir, we'd like to bring your daughter in for testing."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, seeing how you, as the parent, have these 'supernatural powers,' there is a possibility that you have passed on the gene to your daughter, so we would like to--"
"--Mary is normal."
"Sir--"
"--Look, as a parent, I'd know. I live with her, in case you haven't noticed--and I myself would notice if she was shooting lasers out of her eyes or rewiring my computer with her mind."
"Sir, wait. We are not trying to override your authority as a parent, however--"
"Yo. I'm done talking. If you want to call me a freak, that's fine, but you leave Mary the fuck alone."
They had the fucking balls, he thought as he opened the door to apartment 309.
"Daddy, you're home!"
"Sure am, pumpkin."
"Did you miss me?"
"Sure did."
ALSO this is a contact post. Feel free to comment with whatever :)