Bacon — Roleplayer Guild

Some people want to watch everything burn. Makes it harder for those of us who are stamping out the flames.

Name: Michael Bennett.

Age:: 33

Gender (Or Lack Thereof): Male.

What Makes You a Misfit?: He's a disgraced former service member who's trying his best to make the world a better place. He's an outcast in the veterans community, he's wanted by the feds for effectively using magic in a public setting and not wanting to join them, and his preferred type of magic is what some would describe as gross.

What Do You Think About the Classified Crew?: Michael is of the opinion that the others are probably just a group of young adults looking for a place to be, or looking to avoid getting black-bagged by the feds, or both. Either way, he's in it for the long haul, and is trying to at least keep things from going too far off the rails. Or at the least derail it in a way that helps people. He tries his best to convince people to avoid outright murdering people, but when the chips are down, he'll back them up. Even if it's to save someone from the consequences of their own actions.

Appearance: A 6' tall, 185 lbs. Caucasian male. Face and body bears a few minor scars. Green eyes. His hair is a dark brown, and kept in a crew cut. His facial features are rather sharp, and his body appears to mostly be muscular, save a relatively small beer gut. He has a well-kept beard that extends a couple inches past his chin, and bears a couple small whisps of silver. Typically wears blue jeans and tee shirts, and owns a leather jacket that he'll put on if the weather's right for it.

Personality: He tries to be very calm and rational, and always attempts to find a peaceful solution to a problem. He'd prefer not to have things come to blows, and when they do, he personally resorts to violence only when the situation is dire. He tries to stay positive upbeat, but he gets grumpy when he has to fix other people's messes when they should know better, or if his arthritis is acting up. He tries his best to show everyone the respect they deserve as people, and though he tries to by a patient man, his patience is finite. If he does lose his patience with someone, he is not afraid to give them a full dressing-down in his best drill sergeant voice.

Skills/Abilities: He was a marine, and has all the training that comes with it. However, the small bouquet of medical issues that he suffers from prevents him from running and climbing like he could before he joined the service, but that hasn't affected his marksmanship or CQC technique at all. He's also a trained combat medic, and knows how to treat anything from gunshot wounds to chemical burns, and everything in between.

Powers/Magic: Michael has a natural proficiency in the art of controlling blood (hemomancy), and is able to pull or push blood into or out of an open wound from up to ten yards away, and freely manipulates blood that isn't currently in someone, including causing radical increasing or decreasing in it's temperature. Though he can do more to someone the closer he is to them, and needs to touch someone to do something especially nasty like stop someone's blood flow altogether. Usually, he uses it from on-the-spot blood transfusions, to freeze blood to close open wounds, and to prevent others' blood from flowing into certain areas (effectively creating a magical tourniquet). He is not capable of turning someone into a meat puppet individuals by manipulating their blood.

Backstory: Michael grew up near Athens, Georgia where he dreamed on one day protecting people and serving his country by enlisting. When he did, he got sent to the middle east straight out of boot camp, serving as a combat medic in the 3rd Marine Division. He served with distinction, and ended up serving for multiple tours of duty. He ended up happening upon a natural talent for magic when a squadmate got shot in a firefight, while he was running low on supplies. He discovered his talent as a hemomancer when he subconsciously sealed up the blood vessel that had been hit, saving his friend's life. He was also wounded in that firefight, and was sent back stateside, where he met a couple of men who claimed to be feds. They made all sorts of lofty promises, but when told them he'd think about their offer, he later learned they weren't taking no for an answer. One failed attempt to sneak up on him, a brief firefight, and several hours later, Michael had gone AWOL, and fled into the night. Officially, he's been dishonorably discharged, but isn't quite considered a fugitive from the law due to the questions it would raise. It's been four years since that fateful night, and he's been doing his best to stay one step ahead of the feds, and to use the gifts he's slowly been improving to help people. He's also since decided to avoid fighting where he can, mostly because he's realized he far prefers saving lives to taking them, and that saving people without killing other people is very possible with the right words to the right person.

RP Sample: 
	He calmly sat at the bar, taking in the atmosphere with a smile. A man in black sat down next to him, probably no more that twenty three, and trying his best not to look at the man who appeared at least a decade older than he actually was. "You here for me, son?" Michael asked, as he calmly sipped the small glass of whiskey in his hand, enjoying the burn as it passed down his throat. "Well, you've come all this way. Least you can do is let me buy you a drink. I'm too physically broken to run from ya anyways, so it's not like ya have to worry about me making a break for it." He turned and looked at the G-Man with a smile, before waving down the bartender, and setting down a couple of bills, enough to buy the man a whiskey. 

	As the G-Man sipped the drink, Michal did his best to hide his free hand under the table. As the fed drank, he quickly felt himself getting lightheaded, as Michael's spell slowed his heartrate. Not enough to cause any damage, but enough that he was going to fall unconscious in a couple minutes. Michael just had to keep him busy. So, he did the best thing he could think to in order to buy time.

He started talking.

	"You know, I wonder what a young man like yourself is doing, working for... who ya work for. Personally, I'd think someone like yourself would be better suited as a police officer than a fed. Keep the peace... protect folks... get a nice retirement... maybe find a nice girl... and they really do appreciate folks like that. Outside the bigger cities, of course." As he talked, the young man nodded along, humoring the old man, appearing to be actually listening. And completely unaware of what he was doing. That is, until he collapsed onto the counter and started faintly snoring.

	"Lightweight." Michael chuckled as he finished his drink and stood up. Fortunately he knew the bartender, so when he asked to leave out the back the bartender obliged him without asking any awkward questions. He figured the evening air would be good for helping the buzz wear off, anyways. After all, he had people to meet up with.
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