5'11
170 lbs. |
Peter Hannegy
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Citizenship(s): United Kingdom, Taiwan (Work Visa-Expired), China (Work Visa), India (Work Visa)
Date and place of birth:
07 April 2028, London, United Kingdom
Official occupation:
Procurement Specialist for Anderson-Ford Pharmaceutical |
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Profile
Residence: Lions Residences, Apartment D-3, Room 373, Bholi
Affiliation: Anderson-Ford Pharmaceutical, the Uzbek Mafia
Appearance: Peter looks dreadfully average. His oval head is home to an awfully bland looking face, with a thin nose that flares wide and thick by the nostrils, an inconspicuous, round jaw with a slightly protruding chin, large, sunken eyes with dark circles underneath and a small mouth. His hair color is a shade of brown, although his bushy eyebrows seem to be lighter. His only facial trait worthy of attention is the color of his eyes – a fairly light blue. His skin, while not smooth and perfect, is still fairly light – something that attracts attention in India.
His hair is often disheveled despite its regular length, thanks to his tendency of waking up late, his ‘overheating’ at work (which ends up with him holding his head underneath the sink in the bathroom), and his tendency to not use any sort of hair styling products, having had a rather embarrassing incident during his teenage years, which has since shaped his opinion against all of them. While he’d almost always been clean shaven, shaving every morning because of his rather fast beard growth, lately he’s been unable to keep up because of rather unfortunate events and occasionally sports a stubble.
He is fairly regularly built – he has broad shoulders, but he lacks any important muscle growth, and has a naturally thin figure. He does not work out or have any sporting tendencies, but he’s used the contacts he’s earned from his position as Procurement Specialist to keep some of the ‘wonder drugs’ that he supplies through Anderson-Ford to himself. This, combined with his naturally healthy lifestyle, has left him with a figure which, while lacking in muscle strength, can at the very least pull its own weight around with ease, and run for fairly long distances.
Peter has a fairly conventional, if not old-fashioned, sense of fashion; despite its fashion being in the decline, he still wears conventional suits to work, although the patterns of his suits and shirts seem to be somewhat protest – his ‘power ties’ are often laughably out of place, and he seems to forget to iron his clothes.
Background: Peter’s life has often been that of a dilettante; he’s never been fit for, nor has he found the opportunity to, work hard – yet, he has not been able to find a way to get out of this lifestyle and live a leisurely life either. Ever since his childhood he’s lived on a threshold, and as with most people living there, he hasn’t been able to fully appreciate either part. Thus, he has spent most of his life in a dreadful purgatory.
While born in London, he and his family moved to Sussex not long after – nonetheless, Peter proudly describes himself as a Londoner in small talk, despite having spent most of his life elsewhere.
His parents were fairly rich (his mother was a self-help author, and his father was a shareholder in a company supplying electrical appliances), although they weren’t rich enough to let him live the life of a spoiled brat. However, being sent to the better off schools of the country because of this wealth caused him to live with a gap between his friends. Most of them were folks who were getting groomed to become the heirs of family holdings and sitting on piles of wealth, while Peter himself was likely going to get no more than enough money to buy himself a house and a car. Too poor to peacefully exist amongst this elite portion of society, and too rich to not be immediately held in contempt by the lower class, Peter spent most of his childhood and adolescence trying to ‘fit in’.
This is not to say that he wasn’t getting along, however; Peter’s personality had the perfect mix of cheeky impudence and shy naiveté, which led to rather active, if not shallow, teenage years (something that he often brags about to his close friends is the fact that he once got laid with the current President of the LaVoye Conglomerate, and a celebrity in her own right, Clarissa Townshend-LaVoye). Nonetheless, his desire to fit in still got curbed by sheer economical gaps between him and his classmates – he simply did not have enough cash to spend as vacuously as they did. This led to him being brasher in terms of appearance and personality, in an attempt to compensate for the economical difference.
Then one day, his hair gel got set aflame when he stood under a lamp for far too long in the middle of a lesson.
It wasn’t anything crucial; it wasn’t even dangerous or wounding (one of his friends had immediately poured a water bottle down his head, saving him, and ruining his hairdo further), and being the smooth talker he is, Peter managed to make fun of it before anyone else could beat him to it and turn him into a butt monkey. While the incident actually boosted his popularity, deep down it broke something in his heart. Perhaps he realized that trying to fit in so was not doing him all that good. He grew more and more insecure, and slowly faded out of his youthful brashness as time went on (something that may have saved his life, given some of his friends would later die in an elevator accident in a nightclub that he'd also once frequented).
However, Peter wasn’t all that bright (he never has been, admittedly), and without his social drive, he immediately drooped down to mediocrity, getting admitted to a program that he practically had no interest in. After graduating with a degree in Business Management and coming face to face with adult life, Peter realized something – he was rather dissatisfied in life, but had no passions to follow, nor, it seemed, any talent to actually cultivate. He went on a tour of Europe to forget this existential dread of realizing, but having no way to overcome, one’s own mediocrity, and found that he didn’t have much of an interest in art or technology either. If anything, his time in Europe further reinforced the idea that he was a failure, an infertile, drone-like mind in a constantly advancing and changing age.
Thus, Peter did what every person faced with oneself did, and found a lifeless, droll job, one that would keep him busy and tired enough to make sure he wouldn’t have to face himself when he went to bed. Earning a position in NuPharma as Manager of Logistics, partially thanks to his father’s influence, Peter moved to Brighton, although after rumors of involvement in an embezzlement scandal, the company sent him to Taiwan for his ‘excellent behavior’, citing that ‘his outgoing, tenacious personality was sure to help the company expand abroad’.
Peter did not take to his exile kindly. After a year in Taiwan, he quit his position in NuPharma, and after spending about three months doing nothing but fooling around in VR (his contract prevented him from joining any rival company for the duration), he took up a lesser position at Anderson-Ford Pharmaceutical. This new company relocated him to China, where he spent the most desolate six months of his life, moving from one industrial nightmare to another to follow up on his duties, inspecting shipments and trying to make sure that every shipment held true to the ledgers.
China was horrible; a country that had lost its culture and flavor to advancement – to Peter, felt more like an overextended, bloated dystopian movie set than an actual nation with a past. He thought of quitting the job, but, believing it wouldn’t look excellent on his resume and doom him to similar places such as China, he decided against it, and opted to extend his skill set instead, to have a chance of saving himself from this line of work in the future.
He’d already gotten some VR experience in Taiwan, however carnal and unproductive it may have been; after hearing of how some airline companies let people with no formal piloting training take their exams, provided they showed competence in certain VR programs, Peter decided to make this his focus, and immediately upgraded his headset to standard, throwing himself into the world of virtual cockpits.
Soaring through the digital, clear skies was a much more enjoyable experience compared to the unending grey smog of Chinese cities for Peter, and it gave him something to look forward to when returning home from port, after a long day of double-checking container cargo. Not to mention that it turned out he wasn’t half bad at the whole flying business; he’d managed to go through about 25 combat missions without getting shot down in a military simulator, and also could handle VTOL flights in more commercial and utility oriented games.
He was reassigned to Sopahn after six months in China, as part of Common Development Asia’s gradual expansion program. Sopahn, said the employee orientation consultant, was an Eastern gem in the making. As with everything that his superiors lauded and sugarcoated, Peter expected a huge letdown, and found it a pleasant surprise when his expectations were proven wrong. Sopahn wasn’t half bad, compared to his time in China. Plus, Common Development Asia’s overwhelming presence in the city meant that he was a privileged individual anywhere.
Well, almost anywhere.
After a car accident in Dhaar, the bad part of town, Peter found himself responsible for the death of two gangsters. It wasn’t the fact that they were gangsters that made this a problem, for they were the survivors of a small gang with no power (which, Peter would later learn, was practically destroyed that day after their leader got a Molotov to the face). It was just that one of them was the son of a local, politically controversial figure, which got Peter knee-deep in shit when the press jumped on the incident like sharks, claiming how Peter’s callous behavior was not unlike that of the British invaders of long past. Allusions to colonialism, foreign oppression, and similar buzzwords flew everywhere.
Miraculously, he was not fired from Anderson-Ford, but he had to pay a good amount of money to the public prosecutor to drop the case. Things thus once again got in the clear, although Peter made a mental note as to never go through Dhaar again and try to use public transport more. It wouldn’t take much longer anyway, he thought to himself – with some more VR experience, he’d be qualified for a couple of airliner exams, and he could just leave this shithole and get away. He’d heard that Air Taxis were becoming a thing in Munich.
Then one day, he got mail. In it were photos of him handing a snazzy watch and a card to the public prosecutor. Either he was to do as they complied, the mail warned, or these photos would reach plenty of news sites and activist groups. There was no doubt that Anderson-Ford wouldn’t be as forgiving this time, and neither would the law.
What they asked for in return was not much, the letter said – some changes in the shipment ledgers when necessary, and some occasional extra trips to different parts of town. Plus, there was compensation in the business for him. It was a no-risk kind of deal, or so said the letter.
Peter himself thought that he just couldn’t catch a break.
And thus, he found himself shackled to this ‘side business’ of letting Uzbeks nibble away at his ledgers and shipments, and occasionally letting them pay him for compensation. Peter himself suspects with good reason that this is just another way to give him more of a stake to comply, and to get more dirt on him if he ever fucks up. Nonetheless, it seems, he has to play along to get along. God knows what else.
Outlook and Motivations: Peter has a pretty pessimistic outlook on life and practically no motivation to continue further. What could have been a suicidal figure has been repressed by antidepressant usage, a shallow social life that he tries his best to immerse himself in, and personal lack of acceptance. To a more literary and scholarly onlooker, Peter would come across as petty and shallow, even meaningless – to close friends, he comes across as quite similar, but that only means he’s amongst fellow company. His circle of friends is borne of a practically Darwinist necessity; they need each other as to not bear their own company.
He is marked by a lack of passion and lack of interest. His only personal skill being his keen edge when it comes to observation, Peter often comes face to face with the fact that he’s practically living for money, and has gradually accepted his condition as a slave to wages. His money is often spent on hedonistic purposes and adrenaline rushes to make it easier for him to forget about the situation that he’s in.
Capabilities
Language(s): English, Hindi (fluent), Mandarin Chinese (moderate)
Skills:
Pilot: Peter’s got plenty of experience in virtual cockpits, be it flying 120 year old propeller planes in combat, or flying VTOL Air Taxis and helicopters through aerial traffic and skyscrapers in city life simulators. He actually likes it too; one of the few things he’s enthusiastic about, and he’s not half bad at it.
Pitcher: Peter’s broad shoulders and some sort of innate skill have allowed him to become a fairly skilled person at throwing things. He can pitch objects over long distances with considerable accuracy, and pitch them hard. He is simply an unfair fight at darts.
People Person: Peter, with years of white collar life and shallow friendship experience under his belt, finds a way to have ultimately meaningless but still substantial conversations with practically everybody. He’s no orator, but still, he manages to find just the right topics to talk about with everyone, and is smooth enough to keep people listening.
Flaws:
Balls in a Vice: If the Uzbek mafia wished so, Peter would probably get defaced in a corruption scandal, get lynched by Indians, and then get fired, in that order. He doesn’t have much choice but to help them in their businesses when they ask him to, and he constantly has to change his ledgers.
Hey, it’s That Guy: Indians
HATE him! Find out how he earned the ire of an entire ethnicity with one simple trick – become a scapegoat for the media! Peter has somewhat of a bad reputation amongst Indians, for good reason, and the poorer classes don’t treat him all too well. God forbid if he’s recognized in a crowd.
Job on the Line: If Peter’s not trying to please the Uzbek Mafia, he’s trying to please Anderson-Ford. He’s got a lot of bad publicity in the job after that car accident business, and he rightfully feels that the company isn’t all that enthusiastic about keeping him around. Without the job, he’s got nothing.
Connections:
- Pudoo Vijay Pratap, Public Prosecutor, Corrupt Government Official
- Aubrey Millwood, Logistics Manager of Anderson-Ford Pharmaceutical
- Mirza Muhammad Babur, Owner of the ‘Bagh-e Babur’ Restaurant, prominent figure in the Uzbek Mafia
Accomplishments:
- Diploma in Business Management, University of Sussex
- NuPharma Manager of Logistics, 2053-2058
- Winner of the NuPharma Managers’ Board Annual Dart Competition, 2058
Crimes:
- Manslaughter x2 (case dropped)
- Bribery x1 (not prosecuted)
Inventory
Cash, saving and debts:
- R3500 in Cash
- R60.000 in Savings at Khariboli Bank International
- R80.000 Overseas
Tools and weapons:
- Pepper Spray
- HandOut Multipurpose Monopod
Electronic devices:
- Haze Gaming VR Headset (at home)
- MicroSoft Folding Holographic Pad
- Samsung SmarTime Electronic Watch
- Samsung SmartEar Headpiece-Translator
- Huawei Holographic Smart Phone
Apparels:
- Classic suit with ‘power ties’ for work
- Casual/relaxed apparel for free time
Credentials and ID cards: Passport (at home), Anderson-Ford ID Card, Driver’s License, VR Flight License
Jewelry and valuables: None
Consumables: Packs of ReBreeze! Non Melting Ice Cream, Strawberry, Kiwi and Mango Flavors (kept in poly cooler)
Load bearing equipment: Wallet, Poly Cooler (kept in the automobile)
Illicit goods: None
Vehicle: Hyundai
Coils Hybrid Automobile, Four-Door
Pet and animals: None
Other: Notebook, pen
Abstract Proxy,
Alfhedil,
Spoopy Scary,
ButtsnBalls,
Naril
