Firecracker_

⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

@officaz all the characters were written/submitted by other people, and the RP is full.

⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

I know I haven't said much OOC wise but I'm, very excited to be a part of this, this is exactly what I've been wanting to rp for the longest

⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

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Gideon So

Gideon was raised by FOB Korean parents, in a strict Christian household, but could never feel himself melding with his parents’ ideas of what they wanted him to be. While he wasn’t a terrible child, he minded them and did well in school, he never was quite on the same page as them. When he hit his teen years, the differences between he and his parents came to a head, and after a few stressful months or arguments over his future and career, Gideon finally left home 3 months before his eighteenth birthday.
You see, Gideon’s parents had always hoped he’d be some predictable, boring doctor or lawyer or something of that measure, but Gideon always had more exciting prospects for himself. Perhaps he’d join the military to see the world, an idea his parents liked, but he figured the rules and restrictions would be too stifling. He wanted more fun.

Soon enough, Gideon figured out he didn’t really know what he wanted to do at all, but as people usually do, he needed money. He found most jobs boring, but being a bike courier was a breath of fresh air for him. It was active, out in the bustling city, and most of all, it was fun. So, for a few years now, he’s been couriering packages across the city, while trying to figure out what he really wants to do, but, he’s not made much progress. At least he’s having fun.

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Physical Traits
Gideon is fairly short, standing at 5’6’’ but after a few years of cycling, has developed prominent calves and legs. While not exactly shredded, his upper body is still fairly toned, and he has obviously tan lines from all his time in the sun. His hair is growing out, getting long all around. Soon enough, he’ll have enough going to have a sweet man bun going.
When on his bike, Gideon is usually wearing a wide assortment of different clothes, sunglasses and helmets, usually a mismatched array of colors, mostly just to fit the weather. When off his bike, Gideon likes to just hang around in sweats and basketball shorts at home, but more fashionable, light techwear style clothing when out on the town.

Full Name
Gideon So

Gender
Male

Ethnicity
Korean-American

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Age
22

Motives
Mostly, Gideon is just trying to get the most out of life. He’s not quite sure where sees himself in the next twenty years or so, but he just wants to make sure the trip there is fun. Of course, he knows he needs to find something to really mete out a living further down the line, but he’s not at all discontent with where he’s at currently.

As much as he’d hate to admit it, Gideon would prefer to get rid of all the animosity between he and his parents. The fact that they’re on such bad terms bothers him a lot, and it’s something of a sensitive topic for him.

Occupation
Bike Courier

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⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

i'd like to request another big collection of all the apps so i can easily see how low my chance is of getting accepted over the others

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

@MagratheanWhalethat mod looks fun! i should probably give it a try soon

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

@Firecracker_ Nooooo....... Yeah.

@MagratheanWhale

lol i'm playing squad right now, that's funny

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

@MagratheanWhale squad?

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

posted/

𝔽𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

Unfortunately, Proctor’s eyes met Campbell’s at the very moment that he suggested the cyborg go down and keep a close eye out for Knights in Central Square. That would make it difficult to act as if he hadn’t heard Campbell and mysteriously decided to hide in the bathroom for the next hour. Typically, Proctor felt at home in the dense biomass that was the Reclaim’s crowded streets, but Center Square wasn’t exactly the same at the moment. It was filled to its absolute limit, and with people from every part of the Reclaim, and especially those that Proctor usually made and effort to avoid. But, that was that. That one second of eye contact had doomed Proctor, who felt a nice, heavy weight set in on his chest.

Of course, these thoughts flew through Proctor’s head at a mile a minute, before he finally stammered out an answer.

“Uh, sure thing Mr. Campbell. I’ll head down there and keep a look out for anything fishy.” He replied stiffly before Campbell began speaking to each of the other team members.

Everything Campbell said after that, however, traveled the full way through Proctor’s head, in one ear and out of the opposite one. He tried to shake himself awake, and headed for the door, ready to leave, before remembering all the journalists and cameras which waited on the other side.

Maybe I’ll just let Campbell take all that goddamn attention with him before I make my way down there…

- - -

Once Campbell and the rest of the camp made their way towards the debate stage, taking their flock of cameras and microphones away with them, Proctor slipped out of the room mostly unnoticed, only being seen by a few of the building’s attendants that were stood in the hallways. He made for a side staircase, away from all the attention, and slid in, immediately bracing his back against the wall and burying his head in his hands.

Proctor let out a long, low, growling moan, which echoed through the empty staircase. Thinking about going down to the Square, which was packed to capacity, to look for gang members who also happened to work for one of the few men who still wanted him dead, certainly caused a bit of the dread for the man. For the entirety of the campaign, Procor had put the utmost effort into staying out of the limelight, away from all the clamoring cameras and TV bots that hovered around every big meeting that Campbell held with the people of the Reclaim. He’d stuck to the shadows that he knew so well, and it finally felt like his time of slithering around unseen was coming to an end.

Paranoia came natural to him, but this was something new. This level of anxiety, tightening his chest and clouding his already muddled mind, was strange to him. Shutting his eyes, he stood, letting his arms slowly lower down to his side as he took a few, calm, deep breaths to help cool himself down. Getting off the wall, Proctor stood, alone, in the poorly lit staircase, and stretched. He raised his mechanical arms and spread his robotic legs, and stretched everything out, a nearly imperceivable whir from his limbs being the lone sound moving the air around him. He reopened his eyes, and moved his gaze down at his hands, focusing on the two fingers on his left hand that had stiffened up. Pinky and ring finger refused to move, no matter how hard Proctor willed it. His jaw stiffened, as he delivered a sharp smack to his hand, his fingers finally relaxing and giving way to his commands again.

A soft chuckle escaped his mouth, as he shook his head. Under his suit jacket and over his dress shirt, he ran his fingers over the grip of his pistol, and it greeted him with the ever familiar feeling of aluminum and polymer, tried and true. Taking a deep breath, Proctor gave his chest a good whack, feeling the layer of armor he wore under his clothing.

It was time to go.

- - -

”What do you mean ‘Haven’t seen shit’? You’re telling me in this whole crowd, nothing’s happening?”

With the general tidal wave of noise coming from the crowd around him, Proctor was having to nearly scream so that he could be heard over the droning din surrounding him and his agent.

”Well, look around dude! Besides the political crazies and people like that, there’s not much actually going on! Everyone’s just waiting for the debate to come back.”The woman replied.

With a confused look painted across his face, Proctor turned his gaze towards the crowd. Talking heads bobbed above screaming colors and under the bold faced, loudly colored signs they were waving, not to mention the brilliant colors shining from the various neon signs that were splashed up and down the Square’s buildings all around them. Every shape, size, and color could be beheld, as it all melted together in one smelly, foggy, politically charged mess. The ground beneath Proctor’s boots seemed to shake as much his head was, not just because of the thousands of feet stomping on it, but also with the Reclaim coming alive to see what all the ruckus was.

Dotted in and around the crowds were food stands, with steam and smoke rising through the air above them, and even from where he was standing, Proctor could smell the various different foods, making him salivate a little. It had been a long while since he’d last eaten, and all the paranoia was working up an appetite. Each food cart, with their tantalizing smells, had a crowd of people around them, clamoring and waving credits around to get their hands on some grub.

At the front of all this incomprehensible noise was the debate stage, which was currently occupied only by armed guards, the same which protected the candidates’ suites. Contrasting the crowd, they stood still and firm, all with large guns at the ready. Most with faces fully or partially covered, the pressed an ominous presence over the crowd, and the crowd responded by maintaining a solid five meter distance away from the stage, without even being asked. The last thing anyone in this crowd wanted to do was to annoy the Enforcers, and getting too close to the stage was probably the quickest way to piss them off.

Eyes turned upwards, Proctor could see even a few figures on the rooftops overlooking the Square from above. From up there, the whole Square must’ve looked like a big pile of neon vomit. How many of those figures were more Enforcers with a scope trained on him, Proctor thought. The thought, funnily enough, convinced him to bring his gaze back down over the crowd.

Oddly, despite his former anxiety, Proctor was beginning to feel more at home, a sense of familiarity with this congealed mass of a crowd. No one recognized him as a member of Campbell’s campaign, nor as the Ghost of the Reclaim, He was, once again, a part of the crowd, and it helped make him more comfortable, despite everything else. The only thing that stuck out about him was his rather clean suit, which helped hide his rather unique arms and legs, and perhaps the large augment on the back of his head, but even those weren’t extremely uncommon sights in the Reclaim, where the unusual was the commonplace.

Now, to watch...and to make sure that the shit didn’t hit the fan in Gatch’s and Campbell’s last bout on stage.

⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

Hider

Today had been a particularly shitty day, hadn’t it? With rain soaking every inch of clothing he owned, Gideon leaned up against the cool concrete wall of the convenience store he’d just shopped in, finding little comfort sitting on small ledge at the bottom of the same wall. Stretching his legs up so far felt nice, but, just about as nice as the usual lactic acid burn could feel, really. All the water he drank just made him crave something more sugary and artificially flavored with every sip, but he’d never shred the left over baby fat he had if he kept indulging himself every chance he had. At the very least, the cold water helped him not feel so sapped from the suffocating humidity that blanketed him that day.

”D’ya think that God just likes raining on this city in particular? As, like, a big fuck you to us for existing, or something?” David, the other courier standing against a post in front of Gideon finally broke the silence between sips of his own water bottle.

”Couldn’t tell ya, David. I’m not exactly privy to God’s thought process or anything like that. I just deliver shit, man.”

”You even believe in God, G?”

”Thought I did,” Gideon began to rise and grunt on his words as he rose,”but, I realized that it didn’t really matter to me, right? My parents were freaks over that shit, woke up and went to sleep reciting prayers, sent me to Sunday school, all that. Despite it all, I just never really got into it.”

”Soo…. You’re an athiest?”

Gideon let out an exasperated sigh, as David laughed jokingly. ”I guess, man, if that’s what you wanna call me. I just don’t take the time to think about it.”

”You don’t ever think you might need him? I mean, traffic is getting worse by the day around this place, one day you might end up through some guy’s windshield, it wouldn’t help to have the big Arab Jew in sky on your side, ya know.”

”Pfft, how do you even know he’s human, dude? He could be a big… dream catcher or some shit like that.”

David let out a chortle. C’mon, I can’t go around these locals talking like that. They get mad anytime I even imply that Jesus wasn’t white. They’s probably start the crusades again if I said some shit like ‘dreamcatcher’.

Gideon chuckled. ”Yeah? Well, maybe then God would be too busy smiting our smartasses instead of pouring rain on us.”

David, who has mounted his bicycle and rolled over near the road, simply replied with a chuckle and “Shiiiiet.” before he pressed his pedal down and got his momentum going down the street.

Gideon chuckled, and slid his helmet back on, fastening the strap. He could feel his cold, wet clothing with a renewed obviousness, as finally standing up made everything slide and shift around. He poured the remainder of his water into the bottle on his cycle, and tossed the other bottle in a recycling bin before mounting his bike. As he slowly made his way back into the bike lane, he took in a deep breath of the thick, humid air, and then took off.

Of all things, Gideon was still thinking about God. His parents had been so fervent with their teachings of the Bible when he was a kid, he was genuinely surprised that he hadn’t ended up fanaticals like they were. He knew that forcing children into religious studies often made kids turn away from them even faster than they could even become acquainted with it all.

Maybe, one day, God would help he and his parent’s bond again. If anything was going to work, it’d probably have to be him.

Here's my writing sample! I'll be sure to go attach it to my app as well.