[NAME]: Baron Moreau
[AGE]: 31
[SEX]: M
[NICKNAME]: Barry, Skinwalker (code name; infiltration), Dracula (code name; interrogation/diplomacy), Zombie (code name; general)
[DESCRIPTION]: Barry looks rather unorthodox among the mercenary crowd, appearing somewhat of a rugged aristocrat. He is tall and slender, specifically standing at 6'3", and weighs in at 166 lbs. This said, he isn't the strongest fighter and his body is fairly skinny and not as muscular as much of the other Dreadnaughts, although he does abide by the standard Dreadnaught requirement of fitness that is befitting of him, though this is usually in the form of physical therapy (he has a strong, mechanical brace reinforcing his left leg). His skin is fairly pail and unblemished by anything other than the scars littered over his body. On his back, torso, legs, and so on - the damage on his left leg in particular being rather severe and is bestrewn with scar tissue. His pale skin is in dramatic contrast with his black hair, which comes down at a widow's peak, and is neatly swept backwards with a comb and then kept in place a small dab of hair gel. He appears on missions almost as though he were going out on a date, but forgot the proper attire. He has piercing green eyes that are, at just the right angle, appearing somewhat hollow, if words were to do any justice. It is as if he stared into hell and hell stared back, but even then, they appear no less brilliant, cunning, deceptive, or even deadly. Thick lashes and sharp eyebrows simply sharpen his piercing gaze. His true expressions always seem somewhat hidden, as though his face were hidden by a million and one masks, each with their own different story. Even his walk, it seems, where his apparent full-of-himself strut appears to be well-disguised pacing. This brings along with him an air of mystery. Given his pampered features and esoteric air, along with a charming and clever disposition, he's quite the heart-breaker.
[ATTIRE]: If he had a choice in his uniform, he'd be dressed nicely and perhaps come in a nice suit with a boutonnière. However, glamour and sophistication has no place on a battlefield or among suburbs. Given how South America seems to be a popular trend in missions, the humidity doesn't help much either. Baron does not often appear anywhere close to the front lines, so heavy equipment is never really necessary - which is a plus, given how it would add unnecessary stress on his brace and left leg. So he usually does his job in waist-high black dress pants that rides up to his naval and are tucked into thick black boots, causing some bagginess around the lower calves. They are accessorized with button suspenders crossing over each other on his back and then meeting parallel down his front. These suspenders are strapped over a greatly faded light grey t-shirt. The collar has three buttons going down the center, making it able to change from a round neck to a v-neck. He usually leaves them unbuttoned give the hot air or humidity of the environment he often enters, which in turn tends to reveal just a little bit of his chest and collarbone. The subtle fact that there are very faint hints of blood stains on his shirt that looks as though someone had tried to bleach the stains off the shirt - this in conjunction with the lack of any holes - might appear disturbing to anyone who just happens to notice it. On missions, that fact is often hidden by the black, bullet-proof, kevlar vest he wears, which itself is often hidden by any disguises or local clothing he has to wear. His wardobe is dynamic, so describing his outfits during casual or formal ventures would do little to express his appearance. Underneath Barry's right arm is a tattoo in Arabic, a memento from a particular mission that required him to infiltrate an organization of radicals. It reads "وعاء الله", "Allah's vessel" or "God's pot". His hands are covered in calluses and his fingers usually look a little cut up, but is generally well taken care of.
[PERSONALITY]: Barry appears as a cheerful fellow, but somehow balancing his grating optimism with stern realism. He wears a smile on his face most of the time, one that appears almost naive, but also inquisitive. His eyes always appear to be trailing somebody, or analyzing something, and very few details escape him. In fact, were it not for his charming demeanor, he might even be marked as the group's creep who watches everybody simultaneously. He assures this as nothing more than simple curiosity of studying human behavior and overseeing group cohesiveness. As such, he is quite adept when it comes to deductive reasoning and breaking down a person's behaviorisms that might tie in to other areas of that person's life as well. In fact, he is quite possibly more aware and knowledgeable of his comrades than they are aware of (but he is also rather fond at looking through personnel files). Otherwise, he may just be an incredibly elaborate liar. But there's little doubt in any seasoned Dreadnaught's mind that the man is brilliant. It is even said by his comrades: mad, but brilliant. But mad, per se, was of course the perspectives of another individual who was ignorant of Barry's reasoning and his intents.
He is a mixed bag in terms of morality. He is sympathetic to the wounded and the soldiers that do the fighting, and while he would much rather prefer a calm and relaxing time working with his "clients" to get what he needs, he doesn't flinch at the prosect of turning an interrogation session on its heels to either scare or torture the information out of a target. Jobs such as that, and jobs such as infiltration, allow him to disconnect himself from others to a degree that is almost inhuman. He also is not above manipulating or lying to either foes or allies, provided that the outcome is decisive in his favor. However, he remains an egalitarian at heart and is uncharacteristically loyal to the Dreadnaughts. He doesn't quite let on at to his purpose in being there - whether its money or excitement or so on, but he definitely does enjoy the perks out of being in this line of work. He doesn't think about religion and gods a whole lot, but he has forsaken God when he was treated in kind when imprisoned in South America.
[WEAPON OF CHOICE]: Baron opts for a Caracal CP. A recent brand of handgun, one which he received as a souvenir from the United Arab Emirates. He also has something quite dear to him: an early 1900s French-made Apache revolver. It's his personal gun; his favorite gun; you don't touch that gun. He loves it for how absurd it is, and while not as efficient as his Caracal, he does enjoy whipping this baby out for his interrogation sessions or for personal matters where it's just him and the other guy, and the door blocking his escape while Baron trys to squeeze a little information out. The Apache might not be spectecular in performance, but it's certainly stylish and is a menacing-looking little device.
[MUGGING]: There isn't any time to be deconstructing his behavior. Besides, it should be pretty obvious enough at a glance. Baron isn't a fan at putting himself in risky situations you see, and a heart-to-heart will most likely end up in a heart-to-knife. So, realizing the severity of his situation, doesn't waste any time with flowery words and calmly pulls out his Caracal and points the end of the barrel at the mugger's head. When the assailant grasps the situation in full and backs away and runs off somewhere else, Baron holsters his gun and breathes a sigh of relief. He forgot the ammo clip at home.
[BIOGRAPHY]: Baron was born into a middle class family in Canada and went to a wonderfully reviewed school. His last name came from his father's line - he was, in fact, only about 10% French. But that was the family line that gave him a French last name. Since his youth, psychology and the inner workings of the brain fascinated him, so he took the electives and courses as they were available to him. It was a bit challenging trying to choose between neuroscience and psychology, but the idea of understanding people appealed to him more. So he pursued the psychological path. He started at the age of 18, straight out of high-school and enjoyed his classes and found great interest in them. In fact, while he initially wanted to get his Psy.D. in psychology, he continued school for another year or two just so he could say he has a Ph.D. He got out of school in six years, and at 24, was in the workforce. At first, he worked in counseling, whether it be with children, adults, or even marriages. That sort of thing. It was nice of course - helping people - it was heartwarming, but also a little depressing. He also found it less of understanding people and more of letting his clients talk everything out, and while he asked questions about what he thought that meant, he let them come to their own conclusions. It was primarily about asking them simple questions and, occasionally, a lot of lying. So he left that job and tried his hand in criminal psychology, which he turned out to be very good at and later opened up other pathways in which he would try his hand in. He worked as a part-time detective, however, still in the psychological field where he helped figure out where the person may go given their circumstances and he was also interrogating during that time via verbal means. He attempted actual detective-work, which was mostly paperwork, and then private investigating when he learned he liked working by his own rules instead. He had many different jobs throughout the psychological and investigative fields, and some of his favorite jobs was in criminal psychology, undercover work, and investigative psychology where he was pitted against the suspect in an interrogation room.
Later, the Dreadnaughts found him at the age of 27 and he found the thrill he was looking for. As it turns out, Baron was the only psychologist they found good enough or honest enough to work with them. Good enough where he even survived long enough to last three years, taking part in their hilarious antics (such as the time where he infiltrated a terrorist group holed up in Saudi Arabia, and was payed by the Arabian government itself). He went missing for nearly a year after a mission with them, where was kidnapped by some guerrilla group in South America.
He was interrogated and tortured, where he tried his hardest to hold himself out through the agony. He was a pretty valuable prisoner to them, as he was held in their custody for ten months. Baron told them next to nothing about the Dreadnaughts during that time, but he did feel his willpower giving out and his constitution would not allow him much more punishment. Fortunately, during a feeding hour, they forgot to secure his manacles. He worked himself out of the cage and before slipping away, he silently killed almost half of their men with a sharp piece of scrap metal, all the while with a cartilage-worn and broken left leg. He was spared the wrath of the jungle and eventually found a civilization of a small town and secured a trip with the locals to the nearest hospital. At the hospital, he rested for a couple of days and got back in contact with the Dreadnaughts. He was back in the game with some physical rehabilitation, and that experience in South America taught him plenty. While he knew the tricks of keeping yourself from being manipulated, never was that knowledge tested as much as it was during that time. The other thing he learned? No mercy on the battlefield. It was starting then he stopped allowing other members of the Dreadnaughts to visit him while he's interrogating. Things may get messy if his "client" is stubborn enough. It's safe to say that his methods has gotten slightly more unorthodox since his escape a year ago.
Altogether, Baron has four years of service under his belt, although he considers himself to be a Dreadnaught for a total five years (counting even his time whilst imprisoned - a lot of time there were questions about the Dreadnaughts). To avoid another event like that, he has a number of code names which he alternates through depending on the sort of mission he's on and he's built up a reputation with each of them, fooling his enemies into thinking there are three different dangerous people without letting on he could be any of them. "Skinwalker" for infiltration missions, "Dracula" for interrogation and diplomacy missions, and "Zombie", which was a nickname he earned from the rest of the crew because of how he "came back from the dead" (plus his limp). This came to be another code name that he takes on in every other operation.
[TALENTS]: Despite the oddities that he may be accused of, he isn't as emotionally distant as some people who "know" him may think. He can break up a fight between soldiers and other personnel, or at least ease the tension between the two or few. Even though whoever has heard of him among the ranks is well aware of his occupation, not many actually grasp how much Barry is truly a psychological genius. If he so wished it, he could play games with a person's head at a whim. He has knowledge of the correlation between body movements/functions, and between that and undercover experience, a degree of body control that allows him to expertly craft lies, or even see right through the lies of others. Through his years of training, he can work enough of the right charm to work the truth out of a person. Or alternatively, he can work his otherwise charming charisma into more devious matters such as intimidation or interrogation. True, while his physical form isn't too intimidating, he is cunning and intelligent enough to pick just the right words to get under your skin and play off your worst fears. That is his job in the Dreadnaughts - he isn't just some simple hired gun - there are plenty of those. When it comes to gathering information on somebody, he can hand you all you need to know just by spending some time with them alone. Having experience inserting himself into different places, he's somewhat of an amateur linguist. He learns enough of a bunch of different languages, but usually forgets how to speak them afterward when they're no longer relevant. He also enjoys chess and poetry in the form of prose. Nobody lets him play card games anymore.
[ROLE]: Psychologist, psychiatrist, interrogator, diplomat, deep cover agent, et cetera. Official people person.
[OTHER]: As a doctor and people-person, he has gotten quite close to Belroth. At least, closer than most of the soldiers. Other mercenaries might see him as a suspicious or squirmy dude, but that might be because he knows about them more than they'd like. He acts as though he knows something that you don't and refuses to disclose that information. He isn't really of a higher "rank" than any other mercenary, but his authority comes from personal trust and his relationship with the people actually in charge. This does cause him to look like sycophant in the eyes of some people.
[I LIKE]: Cigarettes, chess, prose, cold coffee, cheeses, wines, olives, corned beef, psychology and sociology, vintage, music (classical, jazz, swing, blues), musicals, linguistics, foreign culture, etc.
[I DISLIKE]: Loud noise (by extention, dubstep "music"), bravado, uncooperativeness, bologne, salami, harmonicas, door-to-door salesmen, Argentina, Nicolas Cage, M. Night Shyamalan movies, clowns, etc.
[ATTRIBUTES]:
Strength: 2 (Being a doctor of the mind doesn't leave much room for lifting weights)
Dexterity: 1 (Having his leg being irrepairably damaged and forced into a brace, he isn't so quick on his feet)
Constitution: 2 (His health requires antibiotics since he has escaped - also, cigarettes)
Wisdom: 3 (His position has a psychologist allows for profound insight, but his disposition has him take all other things for granted)
Intelligence: 5 (He is witty, clever, and well-read. An invaluable asset for the Dreadnaughts, and a nightmare for the enemy)
Charisma: 6 (Barry is attractive, charming, mysterious, and has a silver tongue. A practiced master of lying and persuasion.)
[SPECIALIZATION]:
Tactics: Analyzing Human Behavior - Baron has such an extensive history in the psychological field - from counseling, to criminal psychology, investigation, psychiatry, and developmental research - that he can simply watch others and see how they tick. To decipher their motivations, their habits and mannerisms, that he can construe meticulous plots to manipulate that person's behavior to meet his own end goals. After all, knowing your enemy - and your friends - makes it all the easier to persuade, lie to, or intimidate them.
[AGE]: 31
[SEX]: M
[NICKNAME]: Barry, Skinwalker (code name; infiltration), Dracula (code name; interrogation/diplomacy), Zombie (code name; general)
[DESCRIPTION]: Barry looks rather unorthodox among the mercenary crowd, appearing somewhat of a rugged aristocrat. He is tall and slender, specifically standing at 6'3", and weighs in at 166 lbs. This said, he isn't the strongest fighter and his body is fairly skinny and not as muscular as much of the other Dreadnaughts, although he does abide by the standard Dreadnaught requirement of fitness that is befitting of him, though this is usually in the form of physical therapy (he has a strong, mechanical brace reinforcing his left leg). His skin is fairly pail and unblemished by anything other than the scars littered over his body. On his back, torso, legs, and so on - the damage on his left leg in particular being rather severe and is bestrewn with scar tissue. His pale skin is in dramatic contrast with his black hair, which comes down at a widow's peak, and is neatly swept backwards with a comb and then kept in place a small dab of hair gel. He appears on missions almost as though he were going out on a date, but forgot the proper attire. He has piercing green eyes that are, at just the right angle, appearing somewhat hollow, if words were to do any justice. It is as if he stared into hell and hell stared back, but even then, they appear no less brilliant, cunning, deceptive, or even deadly. Thick lashes and sharp eyebrows simply sharpen his piercing gaze. His true expressions always seem somewhat hidden, as though his face were hidden by a million and one masks, each with their own different story. Even his walk, it seems, where his apparent full-of-himself strut appears to be well-disguised pacing. This brings along with him an air of mystery. Given his pampered features and esoteric air, along with a charming and clever disposition, he's quite the heart-breaker.
[ATTIRE]: If he had a choice in his uniform, he'd be dressed nicely and perhaps come in a nice suit with a boutonnière. However, glamour and sophistication has no place on a battlefield or among suburbs. Given how South America seems to be a popular trend in missions, the humidity doesn't help much either. Baron does not often appear anywhere close to the front lines, so heavy equipment is never really necessary - which is a plus, given how it would add unnecessary stress on his brace and left leg. So he usually does his job in waist-high black dress pants that rides up to his naval and are tucked into thick black boots, causing some bagginess around the lower calves. They are accessorized with button suspenders crossing over each other on his back and then meeting parallel down his front. These suspenders are strapped over a greatly faded light grey t-shirt. The collar has three buttons going down the center, making it able to change from a round neck to a v-neck. He usually leaves them unbuttoned give the hot air or humidity of the environment he often enters, which in turn tends to reveal just a little bit of his chest and collarbone. The subtle fact that there are very faint hints of blood stains on his shirt that looks as though someone had tried to bleach the stains off the shirt - this in conjunction with the lack of any holes - might appear disturbing to anyone who just happens to notice it. On missions, that fact is often hidden by the black, bullet-proof, kevlar vest he wears, which itself is often hidden by any disguises or local clothing he has to wear. His wardobe is dynamic, so describing his outfits during casual or formal ventures would do little to express his appearance. Underneath Barry's right arm is a tattoo in Arabic, a memento from a particular mission that required him to infiltrate an organization of radicals. It reads "وعاء الله", "Allah's vessel" or "God's pot". His hands are covered in calluses and his fingers usually look a little cut up, but is generally well taken care of.
[PERSONALITY]: Barry appears as a cheerful fellow, but somehow balancing his grating optimism with stern realism. He wears a smile on his face most of the time, one that appears almost naive, but also inquisitive. His eyes always appear to be trailing somebody, or analyzing something, and very few details escape him. In fact, were it not for his charming demeanor, he might even be marked as the group's creep who watches everybody simultaneously. He assures this as nothing more than simple curiosity of studying human behavior and overseeing group cohesiveness. As such, he is quite adept when it comes to deductive reasoning and breaking down a person's behaviorisms that might tie in to other areas of that person's life as well. In fact, he is quite possibly more aware and knowledgeable of his comrades than they are aware of (but he is also rather fond at looking through personnel files). Otherwise, he may just be an incredibly elaborate liar. But there's little doubt in any seasoned Dreadnaught's mind that the man is brilliant. It is even said by his comrades: mad, but brilliant. But mad, per se, was of course the perspectives of another individual who was ignorant of Barry's reasoning and his intents.
He is a mixed bag in terms of morality. He is sympathetic to the wounded and the soldiers that do the fighting, and while he would much rather prefer a calm and relaxing time working with his "clients" to get what he needs, he doesn't flinch at the prosect of turning an interrogation session on its heels to either scare or torture the information out of a target. Jobs such as that, and jobs such as infiltration, allow him to disconnect himself from others to a degree that is almost inhuman. He also is not above manipulating or lying to either foes or allies, provided that the outcome is decisive in his favor. However, he remains an egalitarian at heart and is uncharacteristically loyal to the Dreadnaughts. He doesn't quite let on at to his purpose in being there - whether its money or excitement or so on, but he definitely does enjoy the perks out of being in this line of work. He doesn't think about religion and gods a whole lot, but he has forsaken God when he was treated in kind when imprisoned in South America.
[WEAPON OF CHOICE]: Baron opts for a Caracal CP. A recent brand of handgun, one which he received as a souvenir from the United Arab Emirates. He also has something quite dear to him: an early 1900s French-made Apache revolver. It's his personal gun; his favorite gun; you don't touch that gun. He loves it for how absurd it is, and while not as efficient as his Caracal, he does enjoy whipping this baby out for his interrogation sessions or for personal matters where it's just him and the other guy, and the door blocking his escape while Baron trys to squeeze a little information out. The Apache might not be spectecular in performance, but it's certainly stylish and is a menacing-looking little device.
[MUGGING]: There isn't any time to be deconstructing his behavior. Besides, it should be pretty obvious enough at a glance. Baron isn't a fan at putting himself in risky situations you see, and a heart-to-heart will most likely end up in a heart-to-knife. So, realizing the severity of his situation, doesn't waste any time with flowery words and calmly pulls out his Caracal and points the end of the barrel at the mugger's head. When the assailant grasps the situation in full and backs away and runs off somewhere else, Baron holsters his gun and breathes a sigh of relief. He forgot the ammo clip at home.
[BIOGRAPHY]: Baron was born into a middle class family in Canada and went to a wonderfully reviewed school. His last name came from his father's line - he was, in fact, only about 10% French. But that was the family line that gave him a French last name. Since his youth, psychology and the inner workings of the brain fascinated him, so he took the electives and courses as they were available to him. It was a bit challenging trying to choose between neuroscience and psychology, but the idea of understanding people appealed to him more. So he pursued the psychological path. He started at the age of 18, straight out of high-school and enjoyed his classes and found great interest in them. In fact, while he initially wanted to get his Psy.D. in psychology, he continued school for another year or two just so he could say he has a Ph.D. He got out of school in six years, and at 24, was in the workforce. At first, he worked in counseling, whether it be with children, adults, or even marriages. That sort of thing. It was nice of course - helping people - it was heartwarming, but also a little depressing. He also found it less of understanding people and more of letting his clients talk everything out, and while he asked questions about what he thought that meant, he let them come to their own conclusions. It was primarily about asking them simple questions and, occasionally, a lot of lying. So he left that job and tried his hand in criminal psychology, which he turned out to be very good at and later opened up other pathways in which he would try his hand in. He worked as a part-time detective, however, still in the psychological field where he helped figure out where the person may go given their circumstances and he was also interrogating during that time via verbal means. He attempted actual detective-work, which was mostly paperwork, and then private investigating when he learned he liked working by his own rules instead. He had many different jobs throughout the psychological and investigative fields, and some of his favorite jobs was in criminal psychology, undercover work, and investigative psychology where he was pitted against the suspect in an interrogation room.
Later, the Dreadnaughts found him at the age of 27 and he found the thrill he was looking for. As it turns out, Baron was the only psychologist they found good enough or honest enough to work with them. Good enough where he even survived long enough to last three years, taking part in their hilarious antics (such as the time where he infiltrated a terrorist group holed up in Saudi Arabia, and was payed by the Arabian government itself). He went missing for nearly a year after a mission with them, where was kidnapped by some guerrilla group in South America.
He was interrogated and tortured, where he tried his hardest to hold himself out through the agony. He was a pretty valuable prisoner to them, as he was held in their custody for ten months. Baron told them next to nothing about the Dreadnaughts during that time, but he did feel his willpower giving out and his constitution would not allow him much more punishment. Fortunately, during a feeding hour, they forgot to secure his manacles. He worked himself out of the cage and before slipping away, he silently killed almost half of their men with a sharp piece of scrap metal, all the while with a cartilage-worn and broken left leg. He was spared the wrath of the jungle and eventually found a civilization of a small town and secured a trip with the locals to the nearest hospital. At the hospital, he rested for a couple of days and got back in contact with the Dreadnaughts. He was back in the game with some physical rehabilitation, and that experience in South America taught him plenty. While he knew the tricks of keeping yourself from being manipulated, never was that knowledge tested as much as it was during that time. The other thing he learned? No mercy on the battlefield. It was starting then he stopped allowing other members of the Dreadnaughts to visit him while he's interrogating. Things may get messy if his "client" is stubborn enough. It's safe to say that his methods has gotten slightly more unorthodox since his escape a year ago.
Altogether, Baron has four years of service under his belt, although he considers himself to be a Dreadnaught for a total five years (counting even his time whilst imprisoned - a lot of time there were questions about the Dreadnaughts). To avoid another event like that, he has a number of code names which he alternates through depending on the sort of mission he's on and he's built up a reputation with each of them, fooling his enemies into thinking there are three different dangerous people without letting on he could be any of them. "Skinwalker" for infiltration missions, "Dracula" for interrogation and diplomacy missions, and "Zombie", which was a nickname he earned from the rest of the crew because of how he "came back from the dead" (plus his limp). This came to be another code name that he takes on in every other operation.
[TALENTS]: Despite the oddities that he may be accused of, he isn't as emotionally distant as some people who "know" him may think. He can break up a fight between soldiers and other personnel, or at least ease the tension between the two or few. Even though whoever has heard of him among the ranks is well aware of his occupation, not many actually grasp how much Barry is truly a psychological genius. If he so wished it, he could play games with a person's head at a whim. He has knowledge of the correlation between body movements/functions, and between that and undercover experience, a degree of body control that allows him to expertly craft lies, or even see right through the lies of others. Through his years of training, he can work enough of the right charm to work the truth out of a person. Or alternatively, he can work his otherwise charming charisma into more devious matters such as intimidation or interrogation. True, while his physical form isn't too intimidating, he is cunning and intelligent enough to pick just the right words to get under your skin and play off your worst fears. That is his job in the Dreadnaughts - he isn't just some simple hired gun - there are plenty of those. When it comes to gathering information on somebody, he can hand you all you need to know just by spending some time with them alone. Having experience inserting himself into different places, he's somewhat of an amateur linguist. He learns enough of a bunch of different languages, but usually forgets how to speak them afterward when they're no longer relevant. He also enjoys chess and poetry in the form of prose. Nobody lets him play card games anymore.
[ROLE]: Psychologist, psychiatrist, interrogator, diplomat, deep cover agent, et cetera. Official people person.
[OTHER]: As a doctor and people-person, he has gotten quite close to Belroth. At least, closer than most of the soldiers. Other mercenaries might see him as a suspicious or squirmy dude, but that might be because he knows about them more than they'd like. He acts as though he knows something that you don't and refuses to disclose that information. He isn't really of a higher "rank" than any other mercenary, but his authority comes from personal trust and his relationship with the people actually in charge. This does cause him to look like sycophant in the eyes of some people.
[I LIKE]: Cigarettes, chess, prose, cold coffee, cheeses, wines, olives, corned beef, psychology and sociology, vintage, music (classical, jazz, swing, blues), musicals, linguistics, foreign culture, etc.
[I DISLIKE]: Loud noise (by extention, dubstep "music"), bravado, uncooperativeness, bologne, salami, harmonicas, door-to-door salesmen, Argentina, Nicolas Cage, M. Night Shyamalan movies, clowns, etc.
[ATTRIBUTES]:
Strength: 2 (Being a doctor of the mind doesn't leave much room for lifting weights)
Dexterity: 1 (Having his leg being irrepairably damaged and forced into a brace, he isn't so quick on his feet)
Constitution: 2 (His health requires antibiotics since he has escaped - also, cigarettes)
Wisdom: 3 (His position has a psychologist allows for profound insight, but his disposition has him take all other things for granted)
Intelligence: 5 (He is witty, clever, and well-read. An invaluable asset for the Dreadnaughts, and a nightmare for the enemy)
Charisma: 6 (Barry is attractive, charming, mysterious, and has a silver tongue. A practiced master of lying and persuasion.)
[SPECIALIZATION]:
Tactics: Analyzing Human Behavior - Baron has such an extensive history in the psychological field - from counseling, to criminal psychology, investigation, psychiatry, and developmental research - that he can simply watch others and see how they tick. To decipher their motivations, their habits and mannerisms, that he can construe meticulous plots to manipulate that person's behavior to meet his own end goals. After all, knowing your enemy - and your friends - makes it all the easier to persuade, lie to, or intimidate them.
DOSSIER
[NAME]: Mia Jones
[AGE]: 26
[SEX]: F
[NICKNAME]: Machete
[DESCRIPTION]: Mia, a 5'9" African American woman weighing 157 lbs, appears well built and physically toned. While not having an Olympian body builder form, her strong muscles and bones are thick enough to accentuate and tone her modest curvature. She is impressively powerful, and it shows through her physique (it ain't washboard, but the woman has got abs). As implied above, she is not incredibly tall, but nor is she short enough to give a weak or vulnerable impression. Her skin is mostly clear of blemishes, save for the obvious scar on her face - and speaking of her face, it is particularly pronounced and gives the impression of an independent woman. Her jawline is strong and symmetrical and meets up at a pointed, yet squared off chin. This feature is accentuated by thin cheeks and sharp cheek bones, and lips several shades lighter - a trait hidden by dark makeup that is applied to her lips, a gentle black that doesn't shine or gloss under light, nor sticks out like a sore thumb on her brown face. Her nose is also sharp. Its length isn't pronounced, and appears proportionate to her face and her bridge thick, though thin in width. Given these sharp features and fierce, striking appearance, her eye is an alarming contrast. Though her left eye is a glowing and fiery amber, her right eye is covered by a scar that goes down to the top of her cheek. The same ugly scar rips through the center of her eye and down, making her blind in that eye as well. Her face alone is an unnerving combination of beauty and danger, despite her disability.
Her black hair is usually well-managed and clean (meaning very little oil, if any), often done up in something like an up-do undercut, generally done with very little product. Given how it's easy to do, where the hair doesn't bother her face, isn't impractically long, and supposedly looks good, Mia found it to be well suited for her. She has a soldierly posture: her head held high, firm shoulders, straight back, and a heavy footstep. It suggests she knows discipline, a factor that likely sculpted her in her early childhood. Her abdomen is ripe with muscle, she neglects to flaunt the c-cup breasts she carries and her legs are strong and have only a few scars from minor injuries such as scraping a shin or knee by accident. Her feet can be considered large, and are fortunately not afflicted by bunions. She has a few piercings. One is a half-ring septum piercing, three small loops on her left ear's upper lobe, and an industrial bar on her other ear. They are all made of brass.
[PERSONALITY]: Spiteful, contemptuous, driven; strangers often characterize her as enigmatic and scornful. She reveals nothing and manages most people with annoyed disdain. This disdain, however, is mysteriously sourced and gives the impression it stands as preexisting stress and is redirected towards whomever spoke to her. Other times, she simply ignores them or gives them the silent treatment. On any other occasion, she simply shares short, brief words and returns to her thoughts. She lacks the arrogance or overconfidence that some of Belroth's elite soldiers may come to don however, and rather has the tendency to peg others as fools. She bides and listens, and she isn't one to put her trust into another very lightly. Moreover, Mia is incredibly driven. She doesn't let on to others what her reasons might be, but she moves forward with such inspiring conviction and willpower despite the obstacles set before her.
She had a great deal of morals before, and though her attitude and outlook took a major turn for the worse, they still stick with her to some degree. While no longer being interested in politics, she'd still be more prone to vote liberal. While no longer concerned about most peoples' welfare, she'd beat the crap out of a rapist, and while hurt feelings no longer bother her, she'd still make a sexist or racist person buckle over and plant her foot on them. She has morals - they've just become become much looser than they were before. She heeds little of most people within the Dreadnaughts. Belroth is an okay leader, and is somewhat detached from him. Baron is that creepy fuck that's watching everybody and is unnervingly likable. Grit is that annoying dumbass that talks to much for his given role. She refuses to refer to that Washe jackass by his first name, which he seems to be okay with, and is certain they're going to kill each other one day. Though the pay is good, she still sees the Dreadnaughts as a collection of assholes playing soldier and pissing everyone else off in the process.
Clearly, that must be something she's okay with being a part of.
Despite her feelings of most other people, she actually treats them with apathy more than she does in deliberate animosity – at least from her perspective. This gives her an unmatched degree of bluntness and ability to speak her mind without caring who is listening or how they may react or feel according to her words. Before an accident, she was deeply in love and was incredibly faithful and protective of her spouse. To some extent, this may hold true even now should she ever find a sense of belonging anywhere. Even if she does though, she reassures herself that there isn't any point in trusting anybody with her story. Her story is no one's business and she does not intend on "opening up" or getting "touchy feely" with anybody. However, her energy is drained and she finds herself in an incredibly vulnerable position, despite her greatest efforts to appear strong. While Mia still able to maintain the facade of strength and durability, there's little she can do to escape the sense of a downward spiral towards an emotional breakdown as her apparent willpower whittles away.
[ATTIRE]: Mia has a pretty weak sense of fashion – that, or she doesn't care. Fortunately, her wardrobe has its own rustic charm. At the bare minimum of clothes, she always wears a sports bra and men's boxer briefs, thinking they're more comfortable than other under garments. Over that, a white men's tank top is often worn over her torso, and she dons a pair of Lee's boot-cut jeans. Over her white shirt, she tends to wear a fleece flannel shirt, due to the comfort and warmth it provides ( her favorite one having a yellow and black color scheme). Should the weather get any worse than that, she has an old brown leather jacket she got from her husband when they were younger. She tends to wear this pair of light brown/mustard-colored unstylish work boots because they're comfy and firm and doesn't seem to acknowledge how ugly they actually are.
While on missions, it would appear that she doesn't quite grasp the concept of subtlety. It is as though she expects to walk into a war single-handedly. From her steel-toed combat boots to her camouflaged pants to the bandoliers on her hips which drapes down around her knees (much like how loose suspenders would), and a marine grade, treated nylon utility belt with a few number of gadgets on her, such as a radio, which has a wire that connects to an ear piece. Along with it is a multi-purpose knife, a machete, a Beretta on her side, and clips upon clips of ammo. These are presumably for her Beretta, or more likely, the two .50 caliber Desert Eagles at the back of the belt which rests just above her rear, holstered barrel-to-barrel. She wears a long-sleeved, although thin gray shirt which she usually rolls up to her elbows and wears a kevlar vest over it. The vest has a harness over it with half a dozen clips where it hooks onto grenade pins. This is to suggest that her torso is covered in six Nato M67 grenades with three lining up vertically on the left and right sides of her chest. She generally doesn't wear a helmet, but in cases she does, it appears to be a brand of headgear worn by SWAT operatives. She wears fingerless gloves that allow her to grip her weapons better.
She carries a backpack with her during missions. It mostly contains MRE's and an emergency IFAK, which contains bandages, iodine, painkillers, disinfectants and so on. There is a place in her backpack which carries a collection of strong magnets, which provides her with some situational utility.
[WEAPON OF CHOICE]: Her primary firearm is the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW), formally written as the M249 light machine gun, which is hooked up to a sling that she can carry over her shoulder and swing it over her back and is fueled by the belts of ammo she wears. If that runs out of ammo, she has a number of sidearms she can fall back on. The next stage is typically the two desert eagles shielding her tailbone. While normally, one of these guns alone packs enough weight and firepower, Mia is strong enough to wield and control these guns, but she still managed to work out a style that lets her wield these guns for a while without tuckering out (and given the amount of clips on her belt that she can slap into her guns, she can go a while). The Beretta is the last resort gun and there are only, say, one or two clips on her belt meant for it.
If all else fails, she has a machete to fall back on in especially dire circumstances. In fact, her machete play, while not masterful, did earn her a nickname. She is proficient at fighting unarmed, however, not many situations would call for it. Still, as anyone can tell, she likes to be prepared.
MUGGING: Mia reflexively grabs her assailant by wrist and twists it before the mugger has time to demand her money. An audible crack echoes through the ally followed by an agonized wail and Mia tosses his arm aside before she grabs his head and knees him in the face. She walks away from the scene in a hurry.
[BIOGRAPHY]: The layout is simple: Mia had a pretty good life until her twenties. She was happy as a little girl. Got attention from her parents, and was pushed into more boyish activities by her father, who had wanted a boy. As naive as Mia was, this didn't really bother her very much and led a pretty normal life. She had a fair amount of friends from elementary and throughout high, was adept at taking apart her dad's truck and putting it back together, was persuaded by her mother to take up painting (and much to Mia's surprise, she enjoyed it). When she got into high school, Mia was pretty enough to grab the attention of some boys and tough enough to keep them in line. At sixteen, she met a boy named Roy and started off as friends before she discovered she liked him halfway through the year. A lot. Taking him to meet the folks was a bit odd, since interracial relationships was a bit iffy to her parents, but she went ahead and scoffed at their conservative beliefs. It turns out that the two fit together like puzzle pieces. The two crucial pieces of a complex jigsaw where each individual piece of the map had to be worked around the two.
There was little to stop the two young and starstruck lovers from planning out their future. As fate would have it though, the infamous gang riots irreparably damaged a section of LA and her family was unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. Roy was "lucky" enough to live in the downtown section, further away from the riot. Mia's parents worked nearby, meaning Mia alone when she had to be rushed to a hospital. When Roy checked on her, there it was discovered that while she didn't suffer tragic damage from the riots, stray bullets had brought damage to her ovaries and one of her kidneys. She would be able to live happily with her kidneys without any problem, but any chance of bearing a child was gone. Having kids was never really something they thought about anyways, and that news wouldn't bother them until their later years when they realized what it actually meant for them. Her parents were permanently hospitalized - her father was put into a coma after getting bashed in the head, and her mother suffered so much damage from fire and chemicals (tear gas, flames, molotovs, etc.), that she was forced to stay on life support to survive. Roy and his family offered to help Mia and by allowing her to live with them downtown.
It was only when Mia and Roy were nineteen did they decide to move out. They were done with school and they rented out a small apartment on the border of downtown for just the two of them. Mia worked at a garage and Roy worked kitchen jobs. Even with their small incomes together, they couldn't afford college for even one of them, but they decided to just save their money and be happy with what they had. They finally married when they were twenty years old.
The following two years were fine. They excelled at their jobs, they got hobbies, they biked around town, and all seemed fine. At some point during the second year though, normal life seemed to fall apart. There had been increased gang activity further down town, and Mia must have made a wrong stop or bought groceries at the wrong store - something must have been a front or connection that made a branch of the LAPD crack down and target Mia, who believed her to have ties with the Bloods - she figured they either had to have been pretty scared or itching to exercise their authority to target someone without any solid ground (she always said it was because she was WWB; walking while black). Regardless of their reasons, they interrogated Mia. They asked her all sorts of questions - about the Bloods, about her ties - having no connection with the Bloods, she denied any knowledge of them or their intents. They didn't believe her. They suspected her of lying and deceit and was promptly subjected her to an extensive session of interrogation with no end in sight.
Roy finally discovered she had been arrested due to allegations of association with the Bloods. Along with vouching for her, he provided her medical records and legal records where there were no signs or ties with the local Bloods. She was released and subsequently promised insurance benefits in the form of large sums of monthly payments as long as she remained quiet about the misunderstanding. Mia was by no means willing to satisfy the police department, and neither was Roy. However, they decided that they were best off to accept the compensation and avoid further trouble with the department, despite the couple's seething rage for the local police force, they also needed the money. The next three years went somewhat smoothly, despite the burning hot bouts of rage she felt each time she looked in the mirror and thought about how stupid she must have been to be wrapped up in that nonsense. She was forced to keep a cap on it lest she do something stupid and create more problems for herself and the LAPD.
But the three years were smooth, aside from that. She found an outlet for her new-found aggression in a martial arts class. Her and her husband both agreed that signing up for a krav maga course was a good idea, but that she should be careful with letting off too much steam. Mia agreed and so the twenty-four year old went on to visit the dojo every Tuesday and Thursday. Hearing about some charity advocating the aid of victims from gang fights and police brutality, hearing and what they stood for, she and Roy immediately supported them, and while Mia wasn't active in their cause, she was still eager to help them out in some way. For instance, fixing some of their vehicles. The work was hard, their vehicles were different and required a little bit of learning, but she still felt pretty honored to help them out.
The year that Mia became 25, at the end of those three years, Roy was out shopping and doing errands for a couple of friends in the neighborhood. Upon coming back, he found himself in the middle of a firefight that seemed to have spontaneously broke out downtown. Gang members were holing up in their apartment-disguised hideouts and the police forces stormed through in what seemed like seconds. Caught in the crossfire, Roy was killed, shredded by bullets from one direction and bullets from the other.
The firefight lasted a grueling three hours before it calmed down, too long for a wounded man like Roy to endure. Mia received a call from the hospital to give her the grim news. Heartbroken, Mia trashed the house and, in a fit of rage and grief and guilt, she grabbed one of the apartment's kitchen knives and carved her right eye from the center and dragged the blade downward into her cheek. She stayed there, laying on the carpet weeping and bleeding for a solid hour, pale faced. A solid hour before a neighbor decided to find out what was the ruckus was about. A solid hour before an ambulance was called for her.
Mia is now half-blind. She stayed in the hospital for about a month, being treated for her eye, as well as undergoing mental recuperation to recover from the shock of suddenly losing her only loved one. After her two month were over, she was issued some medication and she stayed in her old, trashed apartment for another month, doing just the bare minimum to survive - and struggling to do even that now that she was half-blind. On her second month staying at home, she finally began to try mimicking daily life. It took a while for her to walk comfortably and for her to remember how hungry she'd be after a day without eating. It was by the end of that second month was she able to regain control of herself and understand the situation in full: the city - it killed him. It was this whole damn city's fault. It's fault for her husband, it's fault for her eyes - all of it! Whatever rage or contempt she had before was dwarfed by the pit of burning coals that sat in her chest every day. By the fourth month she went back to the dojo and boxing classes. With some effort, the instructors were able to help her work around her limited vision.
The dojos became a regular outlet for her. She took out her aggression there (on punching bags, of course), honed her other senses through sparring sessions (sense of hearing, place, and the length of her body), and learned how to control her strength and how to make the most of it. She invested so much time into boxing and krava maga that she became capable of reacting swifter to the movements from the other students than they could, and she learned maneuvers to help her work around the possibility of an assailant holding a weapon to her. While the dojo helped her live with her vision, it did little to satiate her anger. The blind woman saw opportunity with the Bloods, and while she cared very little for them, she wanted some way to get back at the police department, and through the Bloods, that was possible. So she sought to waltz right into their base and demand a place. Which sounds arrogant, but her demands stem from anger and desperation, as opposed to arrogance - before that could happen, she was found by a Dreadnaughts associate and was offered a job with them. Given how she had so little to lose at this point, she figured why the hell not and went ahead to accept the offer.
She has been with the Dreadnaughts for about six months. She's received the company training regimen for about three to four months and, while not the best shot in the classes, could throw down with every other initiate. She has so far been a part of four missions, three of which provided battle experience. She earned the nickname Machete when her gun ate up all her ammo on an assault on insurgents holed up in a Mongolian log mill and, as a last resort, dove for a nearby machete that was lodged in a tree. In a fit of adrenaline-fueled, Expendables-like outburst, managed to break into the building took advantage of the close quarters there to butcher the insurgents while they were distracted by the Dreadnaughts laying siege to them outside. It was her first mission, one that taught her to always be prepared (and thusly her reason for carrying so much gear). The stunt did result in a lot of blood-splatter, and while it was something of a shocker, it did help to desensitize her to extreme violence.
[TALENTS]: Mia worked as a mechanic for a living back in LA. She doesn't have any license or degree in mechanical engineering, and most of what she knows was taught to her by her father, who did have a degree. So she knows a thing or two about cars, motorcycles, and trucks – you can quiz her on it. But she hasn't actually done a whole lot of mechanic work in a long time, and she hasn't toyed with any of the Dreadnaughts vehicle as of yet. She used to paint when she was a little girl, and some of that stuck with her, although minimally. She toyed a bit with acoustic guitars, but isn't exceptionally practiced and dropped it quickly since she started learning around the same time everything went to shit. She is, however, very practiced in fighting. She mixes her boxing practice and krav maga into a unique MMA form and, supported by the Dreadnaughts training program, is fairly lethal with her body alone. The training did include firearms practice, so she can aim and shoot correctly as well as disassembling her gun and reassembling it within a reasonable time.
[ROLE]: Mia is a typical infantryman soldier. She has good aim despite her disability, but it still doesn't allow her to stand out among squads. Due to her possession of a SAW, however, she is often relied on for putting down suppressive fire on the enemy so that others can get into position. She is adept at close-quarter combat, which makes her a suitable candidate for urban warfare. She stands out as a reliant member of the team due to her ability of staying in a fight for a long period of time, which is supplemented with the number of backup weapons she possesses, and packs a fair deal of utility and firepower in the form of her grenades.
[OTHER]: Despite her one eye, her sparring matches has helped to give her a "battle-sense". Much of this has to do with sense of hearing (their footsteps and breath), and feeling and hearing the subtle differences in the air, but it is something more innate than just that. Much of her fights run off instinct, and she describes it as having something like a flow.
[I LIKE]: The gold band on her ring finger, adrenaline, clams, Scotch (she can't drink it anymore unfortunately), silence and alone time for self-reflection, passion (she has a soft spot for altruistic and idealistic people, despite how quick she is to criticize them), and cleverness.
[I DISLIKE]: Politicians, Cheetos, Grit, cocky soldiers/sexist soldiers, most positions of authority, Washe (although she secretly respects him), and the sound of accordions.
[ATTRIBUTES]:
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something.
Strength: 5 (While Mia might not be Ms. Olympia, she has a strict exercise regimen that allows her to keep all the boys in line.)
Dexterity: 3 (A gunslinger in her own respect, like any standard Dreadnaught, but isn't spectacularly graceful.)
Constitution: 4 (Despite operating on only one kidney, she has a hardy system and conditioned body)
Wisdom: 2 (Relatively easy to annoy and is short-sighted, but has enough insight to recognize long-term consequences.)
Intelligence: 3 (She didn't get accepted into Oxford, but she isn't dumb by any means.)
Charisma: 2 (Less interested in people, more interested in getting them to fuck off.)
[SPECIALIZATION]:
Unarmed Combat, Finesse: Brutal Blows – Mia is strong as all get-out. She works out, she's healthy, and has pretty extensive training in using her own body as a weapon. She managed to work out her own style of unarmed fighting that is a hybrid of boxing and krav maga. Consequently, her MMA style allows her to mesh finesse and brute force together for greater efficiency.
[NAME]: Mia Jones
[AGE]: 26
[SEX]: F
[NICKNAME]: Machete
[DESCRIPTION]: Mia, a 5'9" African American woman weighing 157 lbs, appears well built and physically toned. While not having an Olympian body builder form, her strong muscles and bones are thick enough to accentuate and tone her modest curvature. She is impressively powerful, and it shows through her physique (it ain't washboard, but the woman has got abs). As implied above, she is not incredibly tall, but nor is she short enough to give a weak or vulnerable impression. Her skin is mostly clear of blemishes, save for the obvious scar on her face - and speaking of her face, it is particularly pronounced and gives the impression of an independent woman. Her jawline is strong and symmetrical and meets up at a pointed, yet squared off chin. This feature is accentuated by thin cheeks and sharp cheek bones, and lips several shades lighter - a trait hidden by dark makeup that is applied to her lips, a gentle black that doesn't shine or gloss under light, nor sticks out like a sore thumb on her brown face. Her nose is also sharp. Its length isn't pronounced, and appears proportionate to her face and her bridge thick, though thin in width. Given these sharp features and fierce, striking appearance, her eye is an alarming contrast. Though her left eye is a glowing and fiery amber, her right eye is covered by a scar that goes down to the top of her cheek. The same ugly scar rips through the center of her eye and down, making her blind in that eye as well. Her face alone is an unnerving combination of beauty and danger, despite her disability.
Her black hair is usually well-managed and clean (meaning very little oil, if any), often done up in something like an up-do undercut, generally done with very little product. Given how it's easy to do, where the hair doesn't bother her face, isn't impractically long, and supposedly looks good, Mia found it to be well suited for her. She has a soldierly posture: her head held high, firm shoulders, straight back, and a heavy footstep. It suggests she knows discipline, a factor that likely sculpted her in her early childhood. Her abdomen is ripe with muscle, she neglects to flaunt the c-cup breasts she carries and her legs are strong and have only a few scars from minor injuries such as scraping a shin or knee by accident. Her feet can be considered large, and are fortunately not afflicted by bunions. She has a few piercings. One is a half-ring septum piercing, three small loops on her left ear's upper lobe, and an industrial bar on her other ear. They are all made of brass.
[PERSONALITY]: Spiteful, contemptuous, driven; strangers often characterize her as enigmatic and scornful. She reveals nothing and manages most people with annoyed disdain. This disdain, however, is mysteriously sourced and gives the impression it stands as preexisting stress and is redirected towards whomever spoke to her. Other times, she simply ignores them or gives them the silent treatment. On any other occasion, she simply shares short, brief words and returns to her thoughts. She lacks the arrogance or overconfidence that some of Belroth's elite soldiers may come to don however, and rather has the tendency to peg others as fools. She bides and listens, and she isn't one to put her trust into another very lightly. Moreover, Mia is incredibly driven. She doesn't let on to others what her reasons might be, but she moves forward with such inspiring conviction and willpower despite the obstacles set before her.
She had a great deal of morals before, and though her attitude and outlook took a major turn for the worse, they still stick with her to some degree. While no longer being interested in politics, she'd still be more prone to vote liberal. While no longer concerned about most peoples' welfare, she'd beat the crap out of a rapist, and while hurt feelings no longer bother her, she'd still make a sexist or racist person buckle over and plant her foot on them. She has morals - they've just become become much looser than they were before. She heeds little of most people within the Dreadnaughts. Belroth is an okay leader, and is somewhat detached from him. Baron is that creepy fuck that's watching everybody and is unnervingly likable. Grit is that annoying dumbass that talks to much for his given role. She refuses to refer to that Washe jackass by his first name, which he seems to be okay with, and is certain they're going to kill each other one day. Though the pay is good, she still sees the Dreadnaughts as a collection of assholes playing soldier and pissing everyone else off in the process.
Clearly, that must be something she's okay with being a part of.
Despite her feelings of most other people, she actually treats them with apathy more than she does in deliberate animosity – at least from her perspective. This gives her an unmatched degree of bluntness and ability to speak her mind without caring who is listening or how they may react or feel according to her words. Before an accident, she was deeply in love and was incredibly faithful and protective of her spouse. To some extent, this may hold true even now should she ever find a sense of belonging anywhere. Even if she does though, she reassures herself that there isn't any point in trusting anybody with her story. Her story is no one's business and she does not intend on "opening up" or getting "touchy feely" with anybody. However, her energy is drained and she finds herself in an incredibly vulnerable position, despite her greatest efforts to appear strong. While Mia still able to maintain the facade of strength and durability, there's little she can do to escape the sense of a downward spiral towards an emotional breakdown as her apparent willpower whittles away.
[ATTIRE]: Mia has a pretty weak sense of fashion – that, or she doesn't care. Fortunately, her wardrobe has its own rustic charm. At the bare minimum of clothes, she always wears a sports bra and men's boxer briefs, thinking they're more comfortable than other under garments. Over that, a white men's tank top is often worn over her torso, and she dons a pair of Lee's boot-cut jeans. Over her white shirt, she tends to wear a fleece flannel shirt, due to the comfort and warmth it provides ( her favorite one having a yellow and black color scheme). Should the weather get any worse than that, she has an old brown leather jacket she got from her husband when they were younger. She tends to wear this pair of light brown/mustard-colored unstylish work boots because they're comfy and firm and doesn't seem to acknowledge how ugly they actually are.
While on missions, it would appear that she doesn't quite grasp the concept of subtlety. It is as though she expects to walk into a war single-handedly. From her steel-toed combat boots to her camouflaged pants to the bandoliers on her hips which drapes down around her knees (much like how loose suspenders would), and a marine grade, treated nylon utility belt with a few number of gadgets on her, such as a radio, which has a wire that connects to an ear piece. Along with it is a multi-purpose knife, a machete, a Beretta on her side, and clips upon clips of ammo. These are presumably for her Beretta, or more likely, the two .50 caliber Desert Eagles at the back of the belt which rests just above her rear, holstered barrel-to-barrel. She wears a long-sleeved, although thin gray shirt which she usually rolls up to her elbows and wears a kevlar vest over it. The vest has a harness over it with half a dozen clips where it hooks onto grenade pins. This is to suggest that her torso is covered in six Nato M67 grenades with three lining up vertically on the left and right sides of her chest. She generally doesn't wear a helmet, but in cases she does, it appears to be a brand of headgear worn by SWAT operatives. She wears fingerless gloves that allow her to grip her weapons better.
She carries a backpack with her during missions. It mostly contains MRE's and an emergency IFAK, which contains bandages, iodine, painkillers, disinfectants and so on. There is a place in her backpack which carries a collection of strong magnets, which provides her with some situational utility.
[WEAPON OF CHOICE]: Her primary firearm is the M249 Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW), formally written as the M249 light machine gun, which is hooked up to a sling that she can carry over her shoulder and swing it over her back and is fueled by the belts of ammo she wears. If that runs out of ammo, she has a number of sidearms she can fall back on. The next stage is typically the two desert eagles shielding her tailbone. While normally, one of these guns alone packs enough weight and firepower, Mia is strong enough to wield and control these guns, but she still managed to work out a style that lets her wield these guns for a while without tuckering out (and given the amount of clips on her belt that she can slap into her guns, she can go a while). The Beretta is the last resort gun and there are only, say, one or two clips on her belt meant for it.
If all else fails, she has a machete to fall back on in especially dire circumstances. In fact, her machete play, while not masterful, did earn her a nickname. She is proficient at fighting unarmed, however, not many situations would call for it. Still, as anyone can tell, she likes to be prepared.
MUGGING: Mia reflexively grabs her assailant by wrist and twists it before the mugger has time to demand her money. An audible crack echoes through the ally followed by an agonized wail and Mia tosses his arm aside before she grabs his head and knees him in the face. She walks away from the scene in a hurry.
[BIOGRAPHY]: The layout is simple: Mia had a pretty good life until her twenties. She was happy as a little girl. Got attention from her parents, and was pushed into more boyish activities by her father, who had wanted a boy. As naive as Mia was, this didn't really bother her very much and led a pretty normal life. She had a fair amount of friends from elementary and throughout high, was adept at taking apart her dad's truck and putting it back together, was persuaded by her mother to take up painting (and much to Mia's surprise, she enjoyed it). When she got into high school, Mia was pretty enough to grab the attention of some boys and tough enough to keep them in line. At sixteen, she met a boy named Roy and started off as friends before she discovered she liked him halfway through the year. A lot. Taking him to meet the folks was a bit odd, since interracial relationships was a bit iffy to her parents, but she went ahead and scoffed at their conservative beliefs. It turns out that the two fit together like puzzle pieces. The two crucial pieces of a complex jigsaw where each individual piece of the map had to be worked around the two.
There was little to stop the two young and starstruck lovers from planning out their future. As fate would have it though, the infamous gang riots irreparably damaged a section of LA and her family was unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. Roy was "lucky" enough to live in the downtown section, further away from the riot. Mia's parents worked nearby, meaning Mia alone when she had to be rushed to a hospital. When Roy checked on her, there it was discovered that while she didn't suffer tragic damage from the riots, stray bullets had brought damage to her ovaries and one of her kidneys. She would be able to live happily with her kidneys without any problem, but any chance of bearing a child was gone. Having kids was never really something they thought about anyways, and that news wouldn't bother them until their later years when they realized what it actually meant for them. Her parents were permanently hospitalized - her father was put into a coma after getting bashed in the head, and her mother suffered so much damage from fire and chemicals (tear gas, flames, molotovs, etc.), that she was forced to stay on life support to survive. Roy and his family offered to help Mia and by allowing her to live with them downtown.
It was only when Mia and Roy were nineteen did they decide to move out. They were done with school and they rented out a small apartment on the border of downtown for just the two of them. Mia worked at a garage and Roy worked kitchen jobs. Even with their small incomes together, they couldn't afford college for even one of them, but they decided to just save their money and be happy with what they had. They finally married when they were twenty years old.
The following two years were fine. They excelled at their jobs, they got hobbies, they biked around town, and all seemed fine. At some point during the second year though, normal life seemed to fall apart. There had been increased gang activity further down town, and Mia must have made a wrong stop or bought groceries at the wrong store - something must have been a front or connection that made a branch of the LAPD crack down and target Mia, who believed her to have ties with the Bloods - she figured they either had to have been pretty scared or itching to exercise their authority to target someone without any solid ground (she always said it was because she was WWB; walking while black). Regardless of their reasons, they interrogated Mia. They asked her all sorts of questions - about the Bloods, about her ties - having no connection with the Bloods, she denied any knowledge of them or their intents. They didn't believe her. They suspected her of lying and deceit and was promptly subjected her to an extensive session of interrogation with no end in sight.
Roy finally discovered she had been arrested due to allegations of association with the Bloods. Along with vouching for her, he provided her medical records and legal records where there were no signs or ties with the local Bloods. She was released and subsequently promised insurance benefits in the form of large sums of monthly payments as long as she remained quiet about the misunderstanding. Mia was by no means willing to satisfy the police department, and neither was Roy. However, they decided that they were best off to accept the compensation and avoid further trouble with the department, despite the couple's seething rage for the local police force, they also needed the money. The next three years went somewhat smoothly, despite the burning hot bouts of rage she felt each time she looked in the mirror and thought about how stupid she must have been to be wrapped up in that nonsense. She was forced to keep a cap on it lest she do something stupid and create more problems for herself and the LAPD.
But the three years were smooth, aside from that. She found an outlet for her new-found aggression in a martial arts class. Her and her husband both agreed that signing up for a krav maga course was a good idea, but that she should be careful with letting off too much steam. Mia agreed and so the twenty-four year old went on to visit the dojo every Tuesday and Thursday. Hearing about some charity advocating the aid of victims from gang fights and police brutality, hearing and what they stood for, she and Roy immediately supported them, and while Mia wasn't active in their cause, she was still eager to help them out in some way. For instance, fixing some of their vehicles. The work was hard, their vehicles were different and required a little bit of learning, but she still felt pretty honored to help them out.
The year that Mia became 25, at the end of those three years, Roy was out shopping and doing errands for a couple of friends in the neighborhood. Upon coming back, he found himself in the middle of a firefight that seemed to have spontaneously broke out downtown. Gang members were holing up in their apartment-disguised hideouts and the police forces stormed through in what seemed like seconds. Caught in the crossfire, Roy was killed, shredded by bullets from one direction and bullets from the other.
The firefight lasted a grueling three hours before it calmed down, too long for a wounded man like Roy to endure. Mia received a call from the hospital to give her the grim news. Heartbroken, Mia trashed the house and, in a fit of rage and grief and guilt, she grabbed one of the apartment's kitchen knives and carved her right eye from the center and dragged the blade downward into her cheek. She stayed there, laying on the carpet weeping and bleeding for a solid hour, pale faced. A solid hour before a neighbor decided to find out what was the ruckus was about. A solid hour before an ambulance was called for her.
Mia is now half-blind. She stayed in the hospital for about a month, being treated for her eye, as well as undergoing mental recuperation to recover from the shock of suddenly losing her only loved one. After her two month were over, she was issued some medication and she stayed in her old, trashed apartment for another month, doing just the bare minimum to survive - and struggling to do even that now that she was half-blind. On her second month staying at home, she finally began to try mimicking daily life. It took a while for her to walk comfortably and for her to remember how hungry she'd be after a day without eating. It was by the end of that second month was she able to regain control of herself and understand the situation in full: the city - it killed him. It was this whole damn city's fault. It's fault for her husband, it's fault for her eyes - all of it! Whatever rage or contempt she had before was dwarfed by the pit of burning coals that sat in her chest every day. By the fourth month she went back to the dojo and boxing classes. With some effort, the instructors were able to help her work around her limited vision.
The dojos became a regular outlet for her. She took out her aggression there (on punching bags, of course), honed her other senses through sparring sessions (sense of hearing, place, and the length of her body), and learned how to control her strength and how to make the most of it. She invested so much time into boxing and krava maga that she became capable of reacting swifter to the movements from the other students than they could, and she learned maneuvers to help her work around the possibility of an assailant holding a weapon to her. While the dojo helped her live with her vision, it did little to satiate her anger. The blind woman saw opportunity with the Bloods, and while she cared very little for them, she wanted some way to get back at the police department, and through the Bloods, that was possible. So she sought to waltz right into their base and demand a place. Which sounds arrogant, but her demands stem from anger and desperation, as opposed to arrogance - before that could happen, she was found by a Dreadnaughts associate and was offered a job with them. Given how she had so little to lose at this point, she figured why the hell not and went ahead to accept the offer.
She has been with the Dreadnaughts for about six months. She's received the company training regimen for about three to four months and, while not the best shot in the classes, could throw down with every other initiate. She has so far been a part of four missions, three of which provided battle experience. She earned the nickname Machete when her gun ate up all her ammo on an assault on insurgents holed up in a Mongolian log mill and, as a last resort, dove for a nearby machete that was lodged in a tree. In a fit of adrenaline-fueled, Expendables-like outburst, managed to break into the building took advantage of the close quarters there to butcher the insurgents while they were distracted by the Dreadnaughts laying siege to them outside. It was her first mission, one that taught her to always be prepared (and thusly her reason for carrying so much gear). The stunt did result in a lot of blood-splatter, and while it was something of a shocker, it did help to desensitize her to extreme violence.
[TALENTS]: Mia worked as a mechanic for a living back in LA. She doesn't have any license or degree in mechanical engineering, and most of what she knows was taught to her by her father, who did have a degree. So she knows a thing or two about cars, motorcycles, and trucks – you can quiz her on it. But she hasn't actually done a whole lot of mechanic work in a long time, and she hasn't toyed with any of the Dreadnaughts vehicle as of yet. She used to paint when she was a little girl, and some of that stuck with her, although minimally. She toyed a bit with acoustic guitars, but isn't exceptionally practiced and dropped it quickly since she started learning around the same time everything went to shit. She is, however, very practiced in fighting. She mixes her boxing practice and krav maga into a unique MMA form and, supported by the Dreadnaughts training program, is fairly lethal with her body alone. The training did include firearms practice, so she can aim and shoot correctly as well as disassembling her gun and reassembling it within a reasonable time.
[ROLE]: Mia is a typical infantryman soldier. She has good aim despite her disability, but it still doesn't allow her to stand out among squads. Due to her possession of a SAW, however, she is often relied on for putting down suppressive fire on the enemy so that others can get into position. She is adept at close-quarter combat, which makes her a suitable candidate for urban warfare. She stands out as a reliant member of the team due to her ability of staying in a fight for a long period of time, which is supplemented with the number of backup weapons she possesses, and packs a fair deal of utility and firepower in the form of her grenades.
[OTHER]: Despite her one eye, her sparring matches has helped to give her a "battle-sense". Much of this has to do with sense of hearing (their footsteps and breath), and feeling and hearing the subtle differences in the air, but it is something more innate than just that. Much of her fights run off instinct, and she describes it as having something like a flow.
[I LIKE]: The gold band on her ring finger, adrenaline, clams, Scotch (she can't drink it anymore unfortunately), silence and alone time for self-reflection, passion (she has a soft spot for altruistic and idealistic people, despite how quick she is to criticize them), and cleverness.
[I DISLIKE]: Politicians, Cheetos, Grit, cocky soldiers/sexist soldiers, most positions of authority, Washe (although she secretly respects him), and the sound of accordions.
[ATTRIBUTES]:
You have 19 points to allocate between each stat. Remember, you cannot have zero in a stat. Please don't be the dick that has 1's in 5 of the stats and then has a Strength of 14 or something.
Strength: 5 (While Mia might not be Ms. Olympia, she has a strict exercise regimen that allows her to keep all the boys in line.)
Dexterity: 3 (A gunslinger in her own respect, like any standard Dreadnaught, but isn't spectacularly graceful.)
Constitution: 4 (Despite operating on only one kidney, she has a hardy system and conditioned body)
Wisdom: 2 (Relatively easy to annoy and is short-sighted, but has enough insight to recognize long-term consequences.)
Intelligence: 3 (She didn't get accepted into Oxford, but she isn't dumb by any means.)
Charisma: 2 (Less interested in people, more interested in getting them to fuck off.)
[SPECIALIZATION]:
Unarmed Combat, Finesse: Brutal Blows – Mia is strong as all get-out. She works out, she's healthy, and has pretty extensive training in using her own body as a weapon. She managed to work out her own style of unarmed fighting that is a hybrid of boxing and krav maga. Consequently, her MMA style allows her to mesh finesse and brute force together for greater efficiency.
