Application for capeandcowl
[CHARACTER INFO]
CHARACTER NAME: Connor MacManus
FANDOM: Boondock Saints
CHRONOLOGY: Immediately after the first movie.
CLASS: Anti-Hero.
SUPERHERO NAME: Veritas
ALTER EGO: Connor's most likely going to make it his business to go about punishing evil men. But in the mean time, he'll probably snag whatever job he can, something easy and minimum wage.
BACKGROUND:
Not much is known about Connor's childhood. It's safe to assume they were raised by their mother in a single-parent home, and in somewhat impoverished conditions in an Irish neighborhood. Connor and his twin brother, Murphey, were raised as devout Catholics, and taught a variety of languages in addition to their normal schoolwork by their mother, who demanded they become fluent.
By the start of the movie, it's just Connor and Murphey, living in a sparse, rundown apartment and working in a meat packing plant. The movie opens with the twins attending mass, where the priest talks at length about Kitty Genovese, and warns against the indifference of good men.
It's Saint Patrick's day, so after a day's work, Connor and Murphey head out to a neighborhood pub. It's a close-knit group in attendance, presumably men who Connor and Murphey had grown up with, and were good friends with. The owner informs them that the Russian mob is driving him out of business, much to the bar patrons' dismay. When three representatives of the Russian mob turn up at the bar and try to force an early closure, a brawl erupts, which culminates with Connor lighting the ringleader's ass on fire.
Early the next morning, the three Russians show up at Connor and Murph's apartment. They handcuff Connor to the toilet, and tell him that while they came here to kill him, they've thought better of it, and they're going to take Murphey outside and shoot him in the head.
Connor wound up ripping the toilet out of the floor, and walking up to the roof. He tipped it over the side, where it fell on the Russian holding a gun to Murphey's head, and yanked Connor himself off balance. He fell five stories and landed on the other Russian, breaking the man's spine, and knocking himself unconcious. Murphey beat the remaing Russian to death with the toilet tank lid, and then grabbed the Russian's guns, wallets and pagers, and then scooped Connor off the ground and high-tailed it to the hospital.
The FBI is contacted, and Special Agent Paul Smecker is assigned to the case. He deduces not only that the deaths of the Russians was in self defense, but the identity of the MacManus brothers. Before he can go after them, Connor and Murphey turn themselves in to clear their names. Smecker decides not to charge them, as the case is clear cut self-defense, and the boys spend the night in a holding cell to avoid the press, which is hailing them as heroes.
While spending the night in the holding cell, the twins receive what looks to be a calling from God, telling them to kill all that is wicked, so that all that is good can flourish. Connor and Murphey talk it over, and resolve to rid Boston of evil men*.
Connor learns of a meeting of Russians mob bosses at a local hotel when the pager Murphey took off the body of one of the dead Russians goes off. After acquiring weapon, Connor and Murphey break into the mobsters' hotel room through the air vents, and kill the nine bosses and underbosses. They save the ringleader for last, reciting their family prayer as they execute him with two bullets to the back of his head--the bullets cross, and go out his eyes. The brothers place coins on the eyes of all nine bodies, like a toll to cross the River Styx. Later, during the investigation, Smecker infers that the execution of the mob bosses is the beginning of a mob war.
Joined by their friend Rocco, the brothers hunt down members of the Yakavetta Italian crime family, and escalate to taking more and more violent missions, ridding the city of some of the most vicious criminals and mob bosses. In response to the threat they've become, Papa Joe Yakavetta contracts a hitman named Il Duce to deal with them. Il Duce ambushes the three, and a violent shootout occurs. The three men manage to chase Il Duce away, although not without suffering injuries, the most serious of which is the loss of Rocco's finger, which is later found by Smecker himself during the investigation of the crime scene.
Smecker deduces the identity of the brothers just by examining the finger, yet he struggles with his conscience as to whether or not to turn them in. After receiving advice from a priest, Smecker decides to help Connor, Murphey and Rocco, belieiving they are righteous men and doing good work.
Of course, things are running along far too smoothly. When Connor, Murphey and Rocco sneak into the Yakavetta headquarters to kill the remaining members, they're ambushed and trapped. Yakavetta shoots Rocco, and leaves the house immediately, to avoid Il Duce, who would have tracked Rocco and the twins to his residence. Smecker, who followed them to the headquarters, dresses in drag (it was glorious) and wheedles his way in to the house. He kills two men, before being knocked unconcious by Il Duce. In the commotion this causes, the brothers are able to escape and kill their captors. They then kneel and say their family prayer over Rocco. While they're doing this, Il Duce enters the room. He is about to shoot, but when he hears them speaking, he stops. The brothers draw their guns, about to fire, but Il Duce finishes the prayer, revealing that he is their father.
Skipping ahead three months, in which the MacManus clan is presumably carrying on their mission to clean up all of Boston, they cut in on Joe Yakavetta's trial. It is thought that Yakavetta is going to be acquitted of all charges, and returned to the street. With the help of Smecker and three detectives, the brothers and Il Duce sneak into the trial and hold up the place. Unmasked, they promise that they will eradicate evil wherever they find it, before reciting their family prayer and shooting Papa Joe in front of everyone.
The film ends with a media piece, with people debating the morality of the "Saints," as Connor, Murphey and Il Duce have been dubbed. The Saints themselves are holed up in a motel, where Connor asks his father how far he intends to take this, and Il Duce responds that that is not the question, that the question is whether or not Connor has the strength and fortitude to take this expedition as far as is necessary for it to go, which is the point I'll be pulling him from.
PERSONALITY:
Connor is, in all actuality, a rather simple man to understand. He doesn't aspire to be more than he is, and is quite content with what he has. He doesn't need or desire much in life, just good beer and good company and a place to lay his head come nightfall. He's happy working in a meat packing plant, goofing around with his brother, and living in a totally shithole apartment. That's his life, and he's more than happy with it. When he's explicitly asked what he's doing there, because he has the potential to do so much more than that, Connor is just baffled by the question, because he doesn't want or need to do any more than that to be happy and content with his life.
What's Connor's is Connor's. His brother, his friends, you lay a finger on them, and Connor will make you regret it. He's fiercely loyal; he'll move heaven and earth to help his friends and his family. He'll throw his own well being to the wind in a heartbeat if someone he loves is in great danger.
He's got this thing about being able to fight his own battles, and he expects the people around him to be up to that as well. He's liable to step back and say, "Let him sort that mess out himself," in certain situations, when he believes that the people involved are capable of handling it. He doesn't step in unless it's very, very clear that he's needed; if he thinks he isn't, he'll stick his hands in his pockets and settle in for the show.
Religion is obviously a large part of Connor's life. He doesn't make a show of it, or preach Gospel at every possible moment, but his personal faith is very, very strong. Even while he's on the run from the Boston P.D., he still makes time to go to confession and hear the Mass. Connor has very strong, very clear ideas of what is and isn't a good Catholic, and what is and isn't a part of his faith, and that truly does define how he views people. In Connor's book, what's good is good, and what's evil is evil, and he doesn't hold with shades of gray. He looks at the things outlawed by all major religions, not just his own, and condemns them unquestioningly.
As far as his temper, Connor's actually slow to outright anger. It takes a lot to get him riled up, but when he really does hit his breaking point, it's best to get out of his way. If there's one thing Connor loves, it's a good brawl, and things often tend to get out of hand when he starts one, particularly if he's been drinking. He's more than capable of handling himself in a fight, and he knows it, and he doesn't hesitate to throw the first punch if he feels the situation calls for it.
POWER:
LUCK OF THE IRISH;
Canonically, Connor's leapt off five story buildings and landed on his feet--mostly. In the City, this translates to always just avoiding serious injury. Bullets graze him, falling objects just miss him, serious injury always seems to pass him by. He's like an eel, always slipping out of harm's way.
CRACKSHOT;
Any weapon, no matter how large and sophisticated, Connor will be able to pick it up and use it without any sort of training whatsoever. Cannons, heat-seeking missles, automatic rifles, you name it, he can shoot it.
VERITAS;
Simply put, Connor can see people's sins, and he can look at a person and tell whether or not they classify as an Evil Person as Defined by Connor. All those dirty little secret wrongs you've been hiding, he can take a peek at you and see them. This is fully a visual thing, and doesn't work over the comm.
He'll be completely unaware of all these powers, at least, until someone literally points it out to him that it's not normal.
[CHARACTER SAMPLES]
COMMUNITY POST (FIRST PERSON) SAMPLE:
[The feed cuts in on a rowdy pub, and a jumble of faces and hands, presumably as the comm is passed along to it's owner. Someone says, "It's recording, boyo," and a hand with the word "veritas" inked along the thumb and forefingers clearly visible takes the comm, and flips it up to settle on his face.]
Well, now, so it is.
[It's said with a noticable Irish accent. There's a pause while Connor takes a drag off his cigarette, then smiles at the camera.]
Funny thing, you know. One minute, I'm in a motel room with Da and Murph, and the next, I'm getting called hero by some fucking computer. Hell of a fucking dream, I'd say, except these kind fellows inform me this isn't a fucking dream.
So what I'm concerning meself with is how the fuck I'm getting out of here. I've a job to do, you know. Where do I file complaints around here? Surely I'm not the Connor MacManus that's meant to be here, after all. I've already got a calling, and it's nothing to do with this City, even if the pubs are truly excellent.
Oi, Murph, if you're about, get your fucking ass over here. I'm in no mood to go hunting you down and getting you out of whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into.
[He raises his pint to the camera, then cuts the feed.]
LOGS POST (THIRD PERSON) SAMPLE:
Sometimes Connor thought about how easily he and Murph took to killing, it fucking shocked him. It wasn't so much that he wasn't a violent lad growing up, because he'd been just a violent and angry as the next boy his age, but he'd never shown a particular affinity for shooting dead anyone deemed evil.
There was still a surreal quality to the memories he had of their particular string of hits. Strokes of incredible luck mixed up with the breathless rush of power that came in putting his weapon to the back of a sinner's head and reciting the family prayer. Latin came easily to his tongue, and they'd be swearing and sobbing and begging and Connor could look down and think, "Oh fuck no, you asshole," and glance sideways at Murph and know he was thinking the same.
He and Murphey had always been birds of a feather. That was what came of being twin brothers. Connor couldn't think of a time in his life when he'd been separated from Murphey, and come to think of it, if Murphey hadn't been with him in this, then there was no way Connor could have went along doing it. He'd never done anything without his brother before, and even the Lord's calling wasn't strong enough to come between brothers.
But even with that, Connor never told Murphey that he sometimes doubted the validity of their mission. It wasn't something to say outloud, even to his brother, even though he and Murphey were so close that there were times they didn't have to speak at all, just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Hell, thoughts like this, doubts like this, they were something to be kept silent, Connor's private shame that he didn't acknowledge except for times when he dragged himself back to whatever motel they'd holed up at, covered in someone else's blood and look at his hands and think, "Is this truly what I've been asked to do?"
Da called them avenging angels, and said the lord himself guided their hands. Connor was inclined to believe this most days, because there was no fucking way Murphey was that good a shot on their own, but then again, Connor had read the Bible cover to cover, and he remembered the bits about "love thy neighbor" and "turning the other cheek," and sometimes wished they were that kind of angel, not the kind out of Revelations, descending on the wicked all flared black coat and glint of metal as they drew their guns.
Of course, then he and Murphey would come across the next nest of filthy criminals, and they'd slaughter them, and it would feel so right that Connor would give on questioning how he got this way, and revel in the beauty that lay in carrying out the Lord's work.
FINAL NOTES ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER:
CHARACTER NAME: Connor MacManus
FANDOM: Boondock Saints
CHRONOLOGY: Immediately after the first movie.
CLASS: Anti-Hero.
SUPERHERO NAME: Veritas
ALTER EGO: Connor's most likely going to make it his business to go about punishing evil men. But in the mean time, he'll probably snag whatever job he can, something easy and minimum wage.
BACKGROUND:
Not much is known about Connor's childhood. It's safe to assume they were raised by their mother in a single-parent home, and in somewhat impoverished conditions in an Irish neighborhood. Connor and his twin brother, Murphey, were raised as devout Catholics, and taught a variety of languages in addition to their normal schoolwork by their mother, who demanded they become fluent.
By the start of the movie, it's just Connor and Murphey, living in a sparse, rundown apartment and working in a meat packing plant. The movie opens with the twins attending mass, where the priest talks at length about Kitty Genovese, and warns against the indifference of good men.
It's Saint Patrick's day, so after a day's work, Connor and Murphey head out to a neighborhood pub. It's a close-knit group in attendance, presumably men who Connor and Murphey had grown up with, and were good friends with. The owner informs them that the Russian mob is driving him out of business, much to the bar patrons' dismay. When three representatives of the Russian mob turn up at the bar and try to force an early closure, a brawl erupts, which culminates with Connor lighting the ringleader's ass on fire.
Early the next morning, the three Russians show up at Connor and Murph's apartment. They handcuff Connor to the toilet, and tell him that while they came here to kill him, they've thought better of it, and they're going to take Murphey outside and shoot him in the head.
Connor wound up ripping the toilet out of the floor, and walking up to the roof. He tipped it over the side, where it fell on the Russian holding a gun to Murphey's head, and yanked Connor himself off balance. He fell five stories and landed on the other Russian, breaking the man's spine, and knocking himself unconcious. Murphey beat the remaing Russian to death with the toilet tank lid, and then grabbed the Russian's guns, wallets and pagers, and then scooped Connor off the ground and high-tailed it to the hospital.
The FBI is contacted, and Special Agent Paul Smecker is assigned to the case. He deduces not only that the deaths of the Russians was in self defense, but the identity of the MacManus brothers. Before he can go after them, Connor and Murphey turn themselves in to clear their names. Smecker decides not to charge them, as the case is clear cut self-defense, and the boys spend the night in a holding cell to avoid the press, which is hailing them as heroes.
While spending the night in the holding cell, the twins receive what looks to be a calling from God, telling them to kill all that is wicked, so that all that is good can flourish. Connor and Murphey talk it over, and resolve to rid Boston of evil men*.
Connor learns of a meeting of Russians mob bosses at a local hotel when the pager Murphey took off the body of one of the dead Russians goes off. After acquiring weapon, Connor and Murphey break into the mobsters' hotel room through the air vents, and kill the nine bosses and underbosses. They save the ringleader for last, reciting their family prayer as they execute him with two bullets to the back of his head--the bullets cross, and go out his eyes. The brothers place coins on the eyes of all nine bodies, like a toll to cross the River Styx. Later, during the investigation, Smecker infers that the execution of the mob bosses is the beginning of a mob war.
Joined by their friend Rocco, the brothers hunt down members of the Yakavetta Italian crime family, and escalate to taking more and more violent missions, ridding the city of some of the most vicious criminals and mob bosses. In response to the threat they've become, Papa Joe Yakavetta contracts a hitman named Il Duce to deal with them. Il Duce ambushes the three, and a violent shootout occurs. The three men manage to chase Il Duce away, although not without suffering injuries, the most serious of which is the loss of Rocco's finger, which is later found by Smecker himself during the investigation of the crime scene.
Smecker deduces the identity of the brothers just by examining the finger, yet he struggles with his conscience as to whether or not to turn them in. After receiving advice from a priest, Smecker decides to help Connor, Murphey and Rocco, belieiving they are righteous men and doing good work.
Of course, things are running along far too smoothly. When Connor, Murphey and Rocco sneak into the Yakavetta headquarters to kill the remaining members, they're ambushed and trapped. Yakavetta shoots Rocco, and leaves the house immediately, to avoid Il Duce, who would have tracked Rocco and the twins to his residence. Smecker, who followed them to the headquarters, dresses in drag (it was glorious) and wheedles his way in to the house. He kills two men, before being knocked unconcious by Il Duce. In the commotion this causes, the brothers are able to escape and kill their captors. They then kneel and say their family prayer over Rocco. While they're doing this, Il Duce enters the room. He is about to shoot, but when he hears them speaking, he stops. The brothers draw their guns, about to fire, but Il Duce finishes the prayer, revealing that he is their father.
Skipping ahead three months, in which the MacManus clan is presumably carrying on their mission to clean up all of Boston, they cut in on Joe Yakavetta's trial. It is thought that Yakavetta is going to be acquitted of all charges, and returned to the street. With the help of Smecker and three detectives, the brothers and Il Duce sneak into the trial and hold up the place. Unmasked, they promise that they will eradicate evil wherever they find it, before reciting their family prayer and shooting Papa Joe in front of everyone.
The film ends with a media piece, with people debating the morality of the "Saints," as Connor, Murphey and Il Duce have been dubbed. The Saints themselves are holed up in a motel, where Connor asks his father how far he intends to take this, and Il Duce responds that that is not the question, that the question is whether or not Connor has the strength and fortitude to take this expedition as far as is necessary for it to go, which is the point I'll be pulling him from.
PERSONALITY:
Connor is, in all actuality, a rather simple man to understand. He doesn't aspire to be more than he is, and is quite content with what he has. He doesn't need or desire much in life, just good beer and good company and a place to lay his head come nightfall. He's happy working in a meat packing plant, goofing around with his brother, and living in a totally shithole apartment. That's his life, and he's more than happy with it. When he's explicitly asked what he's doing there, because he has the potential to do so much more than that, Connor is just baffled by the question, because he doesn't want or need to do any more than that to be happy and content with his life.
What's Connor's is Connor's. His brother, his friends, you lay a finger on them, and Connor will make you regret it. He's fiercely loyal; he'll move heaven and earth to help his friends and his family. He'll throw his own well being to the wind in a heartbeat if someone he loves is in great danger.
He's got this thing about being able to fight his own battles, and he expects the people around him to be up to that as well. He's liable to step back and say, "Let him sort that mess out himself," in certain situations, when he believes that the people involved are capable of handling it. He doesn't step in unless it's very, very clear that he's needed; if he thinks he isn't, he'll stick his hands in his pockets and settle in for the show.
Religion is obviously a large part of Connor's life. He doesn't make a show of it, or preach Gospel at every possible moment, but his personal faith is very, very strong. Even while he's on the run from the Boston P.D., he still makes time to go to confession and hear the Mass. Connor has very strong, very clear ideas of what is and isn't a good Catholic, and what is and isn't a part of his faith, and that truly does define how he views people. In Connor's book, what's good is good, and what's evil is evil, and he doesn't hold with shades of gray. He looks at the things outlawed by all major religions, not just his own, and condemns them unquestioningly.
As far as his temper, Connor's actually slow to outright anger. It takes a lot to get him riled up, but when he really does hit his breaking point, it's best to get out of his way. If there's one thing Connor loves, it's a good brawl, and things often tend to get out of hand when he starts one, particularly if he's been drinking. He's more than capable of handling himself in a fight, and he knows it, and he doesn't hesitate to throw the first punch if he feels the situation calls for it.
POWER:
LUCK OF THE IRISH;
Canonically, Connor's leapt off five story buildings and landed on his feet--mostly. In the City, this translates to always just avoiding serious injury. Bullets graze him, falling objects just miss him, serious injury always seems to pass him by. He's like an eel, always slipping out of harm's way.
CRACKSHOT;
Any weapon, no matter how large and sophisticated, Connor will be able to pick it up and use it without any sort of training whatsoever. Cannons, heat-seeking missles, automatic rifles, you name it, he can shoot it.
VERITAS;
Simply put, Connor can see people's sins, and he can look at a person and tell whether or not they classify as an Evil Person as Defined by Connor. All those dirty little secret wrongs you've been hiding, he can take a peek at you and see them. This is fully a visual thing, and doesn't work over the comm.
He'll be completely unaware of all these powers, at least, until someone literally points it out to him that it's not normal.
[CHARACTER SAMPLES]
COMMUNITY POST (FIRST PERSON) SAMPLE:
[The feed cuts in on a rowdy pub, and a jumble of faces and hands, presumably as the comm is passed along to it's owner. Someone says, "It's recording, boyo," and a hand with the word "veritas" inked along the thumb and forefingers clearly visible takes the comm, and flips it up to settle on his face.]
Well, now, so it is.
[It's said with a noticable Irish accent. There's a pause while Connor takes a drag off his cigarette, then smiles at the camera.]
Funny thing, you know. One minute, I'm in a motel room with Da and Murph, and the next, I'm getting called hero by some fucking computer. Hell of a fucking dream, I'd say, except these kind fellows inform me this isn't a fucking dream.
So what I'm concerning meself with is how the fuck I'm getting out of here. I've a job to do, you know. Where do I file complaints around here? Surely I'm not the Connor MacManus that's meant to be here, after all. I've already got a calling, and it's nothing to do with this City, even if the pubs are truly excellent.
Oi, Murph, if you're about, get your fucking ass over here. I'm in no mood to go hunting you down and getting you out of whatever trouble you've gotten yourself into.
[He raises his pint to the camera, then cuts the feed.]
LOGS POST (THIRD PERSON) SAMPLE:
Sometimes Connor thought about how easily he and Murph took to killing, it fucking shocked him. It wasn't so much that he wasn't a violent lad growing up, because he'd been just a violent and angry as the next boy his age, but he'd never shown a particular affinity for shooting dead anyone deemed evil.
There was still a surreal quality to the memories he had of their particular string of hits. Strokes of incredible luck mixed up with the breathless rush of power that came in putting his weapon to the back of a sinner's head and reciting the family prayer. Latin came easily to his tongue, and they'd be swearing and sobbing and begging and Connor could look down and think, "Oh fuck no, you asshole," and glance sideways at Murph and know he was thinking the same.
He and Murphey had always been birds of a feather. That was what came of being twin brothers. Connor couldn't think of a time in his life when he'd been separated from Murphey, and come to think of it, if Murphey hadn't been with him in this, then there was no way Connor could have went along doing it. He'd never done anything without his brother before, and even the Lord's calling wasn't strong enough to come between brothers.
But even with that, Connor never told Murphey that he sometimes doubted the validity of their mission. It wasn't something to say outloud, even to his brother, even though he and Murphey were so close that there were times they didn't have to speak at all, just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Hell, thoughts like this, doubts like this, they were something to be kept silent, Connor's private shame that he didn't acknowledge except for times when he dragged himself back to whatever motel they'd holed up at, covered in someone else's blood and look at his hands and think, "Is this truly what I've been asked to do?"
Da called them avenging angels, and said the lord himself guided their hands. Connor was inclined to believe this most days, because there was no fucking way Murphey was that good a shot on their own, but then again, Connor had read the Bible cover to cover, and he remembered the bits about "love thy neighbor" and "turning the other cheek," and sometimes wished they were that kind of angel, not the kind out of Revelations, descending on the wicked all flared black coat and glint of metal as they drew their guns.
Of course, then he and Murphey would come across the next nest of filthy criminals, and they'd slaughter them, and it would feel so right that Connor would give on questioning how he got this way, and revel in the beauty that lay in carrying out the Lord's work.
FINAL NOTES ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER: