Gregory Dicks-of-em-all
In a nutshell :D
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Perfectly Broken
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6 yrs ago
It’s none of my business what people say of me and think of me. I am what I am and I do what I do. I expect nothing and accept everything. And it makes life so much easier.
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Bio
“There is no such thing as a new idea. It is impossible. We simply take a lot of old ideas and put them into a sort of mental kaleidoscope. We give them a turn and they make new and curious combinations. We keep on turning and making new combinations indefinitely; but they are the same old pieces of colored glass that have been in use through all the ages.”
- Mark Twain
- Mark Twain
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In a nutshell :D
Marcus Bellamy
The office seemed quieter than usual as Marcus sat back in the old leather upholstered desk chair, finishing off the last of his coffee. Of course ‘quiet’ wasn't necessarily a bad, but still not common at this time of the morning. In typical fashion, there would be several citizens of Fireflies standing outside the front double doors waiting for Mayor Bellamy to show up just so they could be the first to bring up whatever matters and issues were on their agenda at the time. Most were complaints that could be easily rectified same day, while others would take days or weeks. But as most things within the settlement, routines changed since the accident. Sure, the requests still come in, but they are generally all written and delivered via couriers, with the people who originally wrote the requests keeping clear of the Mayor's office. It was simply...unexplained behaviour.
Marcus leaned forward, the chair’s frame creaking as he did, and placed the empty cup down as he opened up the gray, unmarked folder which held mostly complaints, many of which pertained to the condition of the dam, the drainage systems, and general maintenance of the sewage. The heavy rains experienced from months ago took a toll on the network of aqueducts throughout both communities, causing waste to mix with otherwise clean water. Engineers and maintenance personnel continued to work on the issue, reconstructing damaged sections of the settlement, but resources were becoming more scarce and scavenging for the raw material was dangerous.
“And what is Marcus Bellamy, the fearless mayor of Fireflies, going to do about it today?” As if reading his thoughts, the loud, obnoxious voice of Gregory echoed from down the hall, even before he'd made it through the office door. “Still rummaging through that pile of shit?” The fat man continued in between bites of what looked to be some kind of cheese pastry. “You know a lot of these people dislike you because of your indecisiveness to take action against Waterleaf, but uh-” He finished the last bite of his food, chasing it down with a bottle of whiskey, and a low grumbling belch. “Don’t take my word for it, pal.”
Gregory Dickerson, one the few friends Marcus had grown up with and managed to somehow stay friends with, even though the man’s non-stop mouth would write checks his ass couldn’t cash. Greg was one of kids who played pranks on just about anyone he thought “worthy” of a laugh at his expense, which was just about everyone in the settlement. He rarely had a filter on anything he said, and didn’t care much about public opinion. Needless to say, not many people liked him, but Marcus had simply grown to tolerate the now robust mid-thirties, greasy-haired, freckled ginger who had proven his worth as a mechanic and general handyman more times than could be counted.
Unfortunately though, the fact the he was an asshole was just part of the full package.
“Good morning Greg.” Marcus said in a calm tone of voice without looking up from his work. “I see you haven’t stopped pointing out the obvious, and yet another step closer to complete ignorance.”
The other made a mocking gasp as though the insult truly wounded him. “And here I thought we were friends?” He shook his head, again, mockingly. “I shall need to file a complaint with the mayoral office right away!” His motioned his finger upward to drive the silly statement along.
“Why are you here, Greg?” Marcus sighed as he eventually looked up at the man standing a few feet from his desk, dressed in his usual stained denim overalls, white t-shirt, and toolbelt slung across his overly bulbous chest. “Don’t you have actual work to do today?”
“Look my man, I know you would rather I keep you company, but yes, of course I have work to do.” He grabbed the handkerchief from his back pocket and blew his nose, before replacing it into the pocket. “I’m important.” He allowed a smirk before his attention turned toward the side window, which looked out onto the main street. “Well, well, look who’s on her way to make a few house calls today.” The fat man walked up closer to the window for a better look at settlement’s doctor known as Michelle, who was making her way along the side road across the street. Greg made a few low whistling sounds just before the woman turned down another road.
“Damn she is a fine piece of-”
“Greg!” Marcus exclaimed, causing the other to almost jump out of his sweaty socks. “Enough already.”
“Alright, alright.” The man shook his head. “I was only trying to lighten the tension floating around in this room. I know you’ve been under tremendous pressure, buddy.”
“Yeah well.” Marcus let out a long breath of air. “It’s certainly been a challenge.”
“Well hey that’s great, but uh-” Gregory walked over and sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, and leaned forward. “So, what’s going on with Michelle these days? You guys talking to one another? I mean, shit, you two were inseparable when we were kids, and I was pretty sure you guys would’ve gotten married.”
Marcus stared out the window at nothing in particular for a moment. “Yeah well, our lives just got complicated and paths went in a different direction. And, aside from her professional life -as well as being inundated with work due to this illness going around- I don’t know much about her personal life these days.” He turned his attention back to the stacked files on his desk. “But, that was the past, and this is now, and I have a lot of work to do, so I’ll see you later Greg.”
“Um, yeah sure Marc, whatever you say.” The big man stood to his feet, and turned to head for the door. “Oh, and say hi to Mila for me. Hopefully she’s doing better.”
“Will do, bud.”
Alright guys, we've either talked about our characters' relationships or you have me in your list. Please take a quick look at my own list and tell me whether you agree and/or would like to add something, etc.
While both Gavon and his wife, Natalie are fairly good friends with Dr Larson, she is probably closer with Natalie since (in the last game), Natalie had been slowly dealing with stress, etc by using pain killers. Although we never got to finish that storyline, she essentially became addicted and sought help via Dr Larson over sessions that spanned a couple of weeks at the least. Eventually, they became good friends and have remained since. Possibly even having drinks together, etc.
Los Angeles | Wilshire Blvd Offices
“Yep, it's a fake alright.” Lawrence Heston, the prematurely balding thirty-something human officer associated with the LAPD’s bomb division stated bluntly. “And a terrible one at that. Have you seen the flimsy plastic parts dangling off the trigger bracket.” He chuckled while pointing at the innards of the square metal device that was originally given to Nicolaus by the girl on the street. “Oh man, a child could have-"
The officer looked up in mid sentence and noticed the others unimpressed expression at bad humor. “Is there anything you can tell me about where the parts had come from?” The Ventrue asked, arms crossed as he stood over the table with small intricate pieces scattered about and a few tools laid out.
“Uh, yeah sure Mister Strom.” Lawrence cleared his throat and nervously adjusted his glasses. “At first I figured maybe it was ordered online, because you can order just about kind of shit on Amazon or Ebay from anywhere in the world. But then I cross-referenced the serial numbers found on a few of the copper and plastic hardware, and it all lead to a computer manufacturing company in Miami, Florida. So what, right?” The officer shrugged. “So I continuing digging around, crossing this info with that info, and voila!, among the various retail electronic stores they cater to throughout the country, they’re also the exclusive vendor to LA’s own Hotwired Electronics, which was the very retail store where the source of the explosion happened.
Nicolaus thought for a moment. “Seems less like a turf dispute and more along the lines of destroying the competition. Literally.”
“Hey, he does have jokes.” The other chuckled, before continuing. “But yeah, in retrospect, that sounds plausible.”
Officer Heston was a good lad, probably one of the best when it came to his line of work within the LAPD’s Explosives Division, and being a retainer on the Camarilla’s payroll wasn’t a bad deal for him either. Money is always wonderful motivator. As when dealing with most kine, however, they were given just enough information and evidence to lead things toward “human-based” criminal activity and away from the supernatural realm, and many of the recent Sabbat uprisings have most definitely been seen as nothing more than “gang violence” in the eyes of local law enforcement and the media. Of course it helped when kindred had their hands in every facet of the mainstream leftist media monster, essentially guaranteeing that people see what they want them to see. But as most Kindred were well aware, especially those more concerned with keeping the Masquerade as solidified as possible, the secret war being waged and the oncoming events leading up to much more devastating things weighed heavily each day. Nicolaus, over many decades has put aside the prideful outlook of his species and come to the realization that he is but a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things -a tool of enforcement to laws and traditions that were slowly tearing at the seams- but a speck nonetheless. Either way, he vowed until Final Death to eradicate the Sabbat inch-by-inch, yard-by-yard, until their ashes covered the earth itself, and were trampled underfoot by those who deserved to walk upon its surface once again.
“Thank you, Lawrence, for your help tonight.” Nicolaus put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know you sacrificed an evening with your family to be here, so do not think that gesture has gone unnoticed, my friend.”
The officer nodded as he stood from the desk chair, collecting the few tools and electronic sensors he’d used in his diagnostics, as well as folding up the laptop before replacing into his bag. “Well, if it helps to catch the bastards who did this then you know I’m all for it, sir.” He said, shaking the other’s hand, a bit caught off-guard once skin touched skin. “Geez, might want to turn the A/C off for awhile, your hands are cold.”
Nicolaus forced a smirk as he relinquished his grip. “Perhaps.”
“So, y’all have a good night.” He said, waving to the young redhead sitting behind the desk across the room who’d been typing furiously at the computer for almost an hour. She raised a hand and waved back without taking her eyes from the screen. “I’ll take that.” He said with a sheepish grin as he made his way out through the office doors.
“That guy creeps me out everytime he’s here.” Adriana, the girl behind the desk, said after a few moments. “Can’t figure out for the life of me why though…” She shrugged, picking up the travel mug next to her and knocking back the room-temperature blood that was already halfway empty. “Mmm.” She allowed her tongue to savor the vitae as it ran down her throat like silk, before going back to whatever she was doing.
Nicolaus shook his head, never quite understanding the fledgling vampire that had been assigned the task of record-keeping for most of Nicolaus’ cases over the past six months. She was intelligent beyond her early twenty-something years, and while her personality borderlined on impulsive decisions and just plain quirkiness, Adriana’s investigative and research skills continued to impress Nicolaus all the more, making her virtually indispensable. It took the Elder vampire some time to become adjusted to even having her in the same room, as their personalities were not always in agreement, but there was also those few aspects of the young girl that reminded him of his Elizabeth.
“Well lucky for you he only comes around every few weeks.” The Ventrue said while sifting through a folder. “Although I imagine he would much rather deal with you than me.”
“Ugh, that’s not something you need to remind me.” She said with a sour expression. “Oh, by the way boss, you have box that was received by the day crew, although they left it in the warehouse.” She waved her hand lazily toward the back door that lead to the storage area. “Looks like some kind of wooden crate. I had ol’ Lawrence sniff around to make sure nothing was ticking, and it was clean.”
“I appreciate the consideration...” Nicolaus said in a low tone, only half listening, as he searched through an old file dated several years ago which listed three or four dozen different known Sabbat affiliations within . “I knew it.” He mumbled, running his finger down the list of entries until it landed on one which stuck out. Written in blue ink as an additional notation was the business name “Hotwired Electronics”, although it had been followed up with a question mark encased in parenthesis. The vampire closed his eyes for a moment and reached back, pulling certain memories as best he could from the night in question, the night he’d first encountered Sabbat presence within Los Angeles, and the alleged hive which was buried deep inside the slums of Skid Row. Amongst the homeless and broken; the refuge, and pestilence, was a dark stairway that lead down to the entrance. At that entrance was a steel door, marked up with filth and graffiti, and barricaded from the inside. Above that door, however was the housing of a security camera with the small silver nameplate of “Hotwired Electronics” riveted on the underside. Cross-referencing them with flashes of memories he’d managed to collect from Alex’s psyche, he searched through the chaotic patterns of the girl's thoughts as though he were swimming through heaps of trash.
“There you are.” He whispered to himself, as the image of the one he’d been looking for came into focus, even if for a moment. “Cyrus-”
Nicolaus was, to his displeasure, knocked from his trance-like state by a loud thump, as apparently Adriana had taken the liberty of -quite effortlessly- bringing the wooden mystery crate up to the front herself, and plopping it down onto her desk not five feet away.
“Sorry.” She said with a half smile. “I couldn't help myself.”
The Ventrue stared at the other with eyes that could burn through a steel wall, until relaxing his visage and returning his attention to the files. “Go ahead then, open it up.”
“Oh good!” The redhead exclaimed in a rather giddy tone. “It's like Christmas all over again.”
With little resistance, she pried the top off of the crate, and pulled away the insulation to reveal a beautiful bottle of liquor and an accompanying glass, each looking very expensive in their own right. “Wow, someone must really want your attention.” She said, holding up the bottle to examine it. “A lady friend?” Adriana immediately let out a gasp when she picked up the business card. “Holy shit! Gallery Sixty-Six! I've heard of this place. It's new and supposedly very chic.” She removed the cap on the bottle in her hand, and put her nose up to the mouth, inhaling the aroma with hints of honey and vitae. “Wow, so it looks like we might have a member of Kindred society flagging you down, boss. Or, at the very least, a ‘vampire groupie’.”
The Ventrue looked up from his work and walked across the aisle, scanning his eyes along the contents of the mahogany crate. “Well whoever it was that sent this has excellent taste in their liquor as well as the goblets.” He lifted the glass and held it eye level, examining its shape and curvature.
“So, when do we leave?” The other asked, trying to stifle her otherwise excited tone, just before placing her lips against the bottle opening and tipping it back far enough to taste a spoonful, the liquor assaulting her supernatural senses, sending a bit of vibe up her spine. “Oh my…” She whispered.
“Leave to where?” Nicolaus inquired just before the phone in his breast pocket chimed and vibrated, indicating an urgent email message was sent. He carefully placed the glass goblet back into the fitted indentation and slipped his phone out to check the message.
“Gallery 66 of course.” The other continued, wiping a bit of the liquid from the corner of her mouth, allowing her body to absorb the succulence. “Clearly this was an invite.”
Nicolaus narrowed his eyes as he first saw the email address of the sender, and then the brief but very obvious and required summons from the Baroness of Los Angeles.
Yanci Carolina. I can only imagine what you would need me for...
“Everything okay, boss?” Adriana asked while recapping the bottle and placing it on her desk.
“Everything is fine.” He said after a few moments before replacing the phone in the breast pocket of his coat. “And it looks like, coincidentally, we'll be heading to Gallery 66.”
Someone needs to make more single guys
They always make better NPCs anyway...
Also, revised Ark Security logo, which I'll post on Wiki as soon as I can find my damn login...
Aight @Sep...sheet is updated, although the "Relationships" section at the bottom still needs some TLC...
Love your Investigator so far @vietmyke. I have some ideas we can knock around for cases, etc since we are 5 years into the voyage and shit has no doubt gone down since launch.
Provided I actually commit to joining this RP ;)
Provided I actually commit to joining this RP ;)
As far as Chiara goes, dizziness, general soreness and sometimes nausea.
That works as a basis, although I suppose it can span out to other symptoms depending on the person.
Dammit, posted in CS tab by accident. Stupid mobile posting...
Anyway, @sep, putting my tentative interest in, and if so, will reprise my role as Chief of Security.
Anyway, @sep, putting my tentative interest in, and if so, will reprise my role as Chief of Security.
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