“No matter what a waste one has made of one's life, it is ever possible to find some path to redemption, however partial.”
Name
Aloysius Poole Eliopoulos has gone by his middle name for nearly decade.
Appearance
Poole is in his fifties, though a quiet sense of embarrassment has lead to him going to great lengths to keep his exact age hidden from his colleagues. A decade ago, he was too old to be one of the criminals, and a decade from now, he'll be too old to catch them. He's had seven birthdays aboard the Magnitude, so the crew knows he's at least seven. His hair is not completely white, but it is quite gray. His arms are not flabby and soft, but they are not as strong as they once were. He hasn't started wearing glasses to see, but he has started wearing them to read. Like his age, the specifics of Poole's body are something of a mystery given that he is perpetually long-sleeved and averse to partial nudity in all of its forms, though it's clear that Poole has the type of muscularity that can only be obtained in a prison yard. Even in the hottest weather, Poole is not seen without a crewneck sweater, coat, or button-down shirt. He is arguably the snappiest dresser of the crew, usually wearing a pressed white overcoat on most outings. He prefers warm, friendly colors, and is often teased for the old-fashioned nature of his fashion choices.
Red Felon: For reasons he hasn't divulged, Poole is in the highest, most heinous category of felons. He's not some Green Felon who's shot a man, or a Yellow Felon who's shot five, or even an Orange Felon who's mowed down a few dozen. He's a Red Felon, a rank so rare that the Magnitude has not faced a Red during its decade-long tenure. It's outright difficult to find someone with the psychological capacity for the acts necessary to be labeled a Red Felon, but somehow, the Absolute Magnitude's own Poole has just such a predisposition. Considering that Poole is the cheeriest member, known to the crew for his home-cooked meals, boisterous laugh, and campfire songs, this is a disturbingly constant detail about Poole to bear in mind as a crewmate; He cannot visit Earth, he cannot possess a firearm, he cannot fully use Tesseract, and he cannot be asked about his past.
Titanean: Poole was born on Titan, the interstellar equivalent to being from rural Russia. It is primitive, harsh, and the farthest away from anything that a place could be. Whereas Martian crime is calculative and Venusean crime is rampant, Titanean crime is vicious. Titan is a tiny planet with an economy fueled by a single prison and a mining company, with subarctic blizzards nearly every day. Its denizens are two days of flying in a spacecraft from the nearest ISSP agent, leading to a culture of distrust in government authority and some of the most infamously brutal criminals in the solar system, from Jackhammer James Mander to Lucy Starhopp.
Saved: You would be hard pressed to find someone in the 23rd century more excited about having a Lord and Savior than Poole. Aside from his penchant for scripture and biblical allegories, there is a calm authenticity to Poole's faith in God that leaves most confused, and others outright jealous. Some of the gospel music he listens to is almost a thousand years old, which is kind of ridiculous, though nobody in the crew has dared shut it off yet. His preachy vibes are just another part of his personality the crew pays no mind to.
Strengths
Prize-Fighter: Poole's strength is his literal strength. He handles shouting, threats, and chaotic violence with an inhuman degree of calmness unique to himself, and seems most in his element in a fight. He isn't trained in any fighting style or martial art, though his apparent imperviousness to physical blows and brute strength make him an extremely capable brawler. Aside from plain fist-fights, during one of the Absolute Magnitude's deals gone wrong, he crushed a guy to death by squeezing him. It sounded awful. Like many things the crew knows about Poole, this has never been brought up.
Warrior Poet: Poole isn't the brains of the ship, but he's not a monosyllabic knuckledragger either. Poole is well read -- The first book he'd recommend being the Good Book -- and has an eloquence that separates him from other bounty hunters hired for their muscle. His knowledge of the slang, culture, and social customs of the criminal world make him surprisingly good at gathering information when he's not dressing like a canary-colored gumshoe, while his well-spoken manners and humility make him a decent contract negotiator.
Weaknesses
Feet of Lead: Poole is a pretty big guy, and has the problems of flexibility, speed, and mobility typically associated with men of his size. He also smokes like a chimney, eats like a horse, and is in his fifties. Whoever you are, reading this, you could outrun Poole. If you cannot run, assume your usual method of transportation would save you from Poole for at least fifty feet.
Head of Also Lead: It is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail, and Poole's hammer is punching things into a warm, red, high-lipid pulp. He is not necessarily quick to anger in the traditional sense, but his reliance on being more powerful than his opponents in close quarters make him skip to violence more often than not. Though he generally acts like a kindly uncle, his felon status mixed with his proclivity for lethal violence (And the juxtaposition this presents with his strongly religious nature) make some a little wary of Poole.
Claustrophobic: Though he's at least accustomed to the tight conditions aboard the Absolute Magnitude, Poole has repeatedly shown great difficulty with enclosed spaces in the past, and will often refuse to climb through ducts, pipes, or small caverns. He has explained his fears as an association of cramped spaces with being trapped, and a belief of entrapment as an extreme danger. Psychologically speaking, this is not surprising for someone who has spent twenty years in Titanean prison.
