RE: Scattered Stars
10-15-2018, 11:44 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-09-2018, 12:21 PM by MQuinny1234.)
Name: Dick Villin (E-S-461159)
Description: 6 foot 4. Short cut black hair at it's longest, buzz cut when short. Dark blue eyes, and brown rough skin. Is well built, but seems more to keep himself in shape rather than reach any kind of peak performance. Wears a black cowboy hat, dirt brown trenchcoat and an iron grey shirt, and a light purple tie with a smiley face on it. Keeps himself shaven apart from a neatly trimmed Magnum P.I moustache, has a dented nose and some scarring and dark patches on his hands.
Homeworld: Earth-born, currently located at Space Station 12
Affiliation: Fairly open-ended, does private contract work, he does get sent work from the Solar Federation or hired on by them at times.
Occupation: Detective, been active for a couple of years now after doing a few years of minor police work. Claims to be a private eye, but maybe closer to an odd jobs company, working on word of mouth around the station to try and keep things orderly and himself busy.
Bio: Dick was born on earth, 59 PU, as part of the Sol Union super-soldier breeding program, raised and trained in the 11th military station on earth, the 46th candidate for training there. He was a fairly average soldier, but had trouble following some of the more bloody commands and taking to the military social structure, prone to melancholy and stress, which led to insubordination, hesitation, etc. After the whistle-blowing in 77 PU, Dick found himself increasingly curious about the world outside the program, but it wasn't until a few years later that he was put out on duty that he began to get glimpses of it. They were brief, reflections of the world seen from violent and ugly times, the S-soldiers typically weren't deployed for routine guard. During the Gloombridge protests in 83 PU though, he came across an escaping group of protesters, and in a wild moment, instead of either reporting or opening fire on them, discarded his weapons and gear and joined them, passing himself off as one of them to escape. Thankfully, no one looked too closely at him in the group, the group escaped and he slipped off himself when he could.
A few years of crime helped him get on his feet in terms of becoming aware of the world around him, and to set up a passable patchwork identity, and he'd finally gotten a sense of freedom. He was his own person, even if that identity didn't have much to it yet. He still had trouble making close bonds to others, still had funks and trouble he felt, finding value in himself, and the lack of purpose was getting to him. Being a brute enforcer didn't satisfy his personal needs, so he decided to join the police force instead, hoping that since it was a choice this time something similar to the military program would come easier. In a broad way, it helped. Dick regained some discipline, learned more beneficial skills like organisation and working with public people in a more civil manner, and helped smooth out some rough edges that had formed, but it began to feel enclosing again, and by and large, working for the guard ate at him at times. So, he requested a transfer to far out in space, away from Earth, to a space station near the gate hub, a little more wild and on the fringe, and after making himself comfortable, he took less and less shifts and finally started up his own minor business, somewhere inbetween the legal enforcers and the criminal underbelly, offering more discrete and unique services to the varied population of space station 12. It's pleasant, for now.
Resources: Has a small apartment in a back corner of the station, has a constant rumbling of mechanics. Full of old dataslates of movies, old clothes and bottles. Keeps a safe of weapon stached, some fake IDs and his cash, prefers to keep resources and information about himself out of official channels when possible.
Contacts: Captain Mulder. Resident leader of the police force on the space station. Tries to remain fairly straight-laced and legit personally, but turns a blind eye to a lot of the corruption and ignoring of proper procedure underneath himself, within reason.
Jimmy Two-fingers. Local crook and fencer, crossed a few gangs back on earth and lost a few fingers, only having 2 left on his right hand. Is unwilling to lose anymore so if fairly honourable to people with weight behind them.
Miche. Bartender at the local bar, the Black Hole. Does alright business, has a lot of regulars in the back behind a public front. Technically people are allowed to go to the back, but it's fairly subtle. Miche runs things from the back half with a fairly stern fist, and enforces a neutral zone, anyone who causes trouble is banned, or at least given a warning shot in a leg. A lady who excels at small talk and being in one sided conversations to people.
Theme: https://youtu.be/vzNcSvKCOyA
Description: 6 foot 4. Short cut black hair at it's longest, buzz cut when short. Dark blue eyes, and brown rough skin. Is well built, but seems more to keep himself in shape rather than reach any kind of peak performance. Wears a black cowboy hat, dirt brown trenchcoat and an iron grey shirt, and a light purple tie with a smiley face on it. Keeps himself shaven apart from a neatly trimmed Magnum P.I moustache, has a dented nose and some scarring and dark patches on his hands.
Homeworld: Earth-born, currently located at Space Station 12
Affiliation: Fairly open-ended, does private contract work, he does get sent work from the Solar Federation or hired on by them at times.
Occupation: Detective, been active for a couple of years now after doing a few years of minor police work. Claims to be a private eye, but maybe closer to an odd jobs company, working on word of mouth around the station to try and keep things orderly and himself busy.
Bio: Dick was born on earth, 59 PU, as part of the Sol Union super-soldier breeding program, raised and trained in the 11th military station on earth, the 46th candidate for training there. He was a fairly average soldier, but had trouble following some of the more bloody commands and taking to the military social structure, prone to melancholy and stress, which led to insubordination, hesitation, etc. After the whistle-blowing in 77 PU, Dick found himself increasingly curious about the world outside the program, but it wasn't until a few years later that he was put out on duty that he began to get glimpses of it. They were brief, reflections of the world seen from violent and ugly times, the S-soldiers typically weren't deployed for routine guard. During the Gloombridge protests in 83 PU though, he came across an escaping group of protesters, and in a wild moment, instead of either reporting or opening fire on them, discarded his weapons and gear and joined them, passing himself off as one of them to escape. Thankfully, no one looked too closely at him in the group, the group escaped and he slipped off himself when he could.
A few years of crime helped him get on his feet in terms of becoming aware of the world around him, and to set up a passable patchwork identity, and he'd finally gotten a sense of freedom. He was his own person, even if that identity didn't have much to it yet. He still had trouble making close bonds to others, still had funks and trouble he felt, finding value in himself, and the lack of purpose was getting to him. Being a brute enforcer didn't satisfy his personal needs, so he decided to join the police force instead, hoping that since it was a choice this time something similar to the military program would come easier. In a broad way, it helped. Dick regained some discipline, learned more beneficial skills like organisation and working with public people in a more civil manner, and helped smooth out some rough edges that had formed, but it began to feel enclosing again, and by and large, working for the guard ate at him at times. So, he requested a transfer to far out in space, away from Earth, to a space station near the gate hub, a little more wild and on the fringe, and after making himself comfortable, he took less and less shifts and finally started up his own minor business, somewhere inbetween the legal enforcers and the criminal underbelly, offering more discrete and unique services to the varied population of space station 12. It's pleasant, for now.
Resources: Has a small apartment in a back corner of the station, has a constant rumbling of mechanics. Full of old dataslates of movies, old clothes and bottles. Keeps a safe of weapon stached, some fake IDs and his cash, prefers to keep resources and information about himself out of official channels when possible.
Contacts: Captain Mulder. Resident leader of the police force on the space station. Tries to remain fairly straight-laced and legit personally, but turns a blind eye to a lot of the corruption and ignoring of proper procedure underneath himself, within reason.
Jimmy Two-fingers. Local crook and fencer, crossed a few gangs back on earth and lost a few fingers, only having 2 left on his right hand. Is unwilling to lose anymore so if fairly honourable to people with weight behind them.
Miche. Bartender at the local bar, the Black Hole. Does alright business, has a lot of regulars in the back behind a public front. Technically people are allowed to go to the back, but it's fairly subtle. Miche runs things from the back half with a fairly stern fist, and enforces a neutral zone, anyone who causes trouble is banned, or at least given a warning shot in a leg. A lady who excels at small talk and being in one sided conversations to people.
Theme: https://youtu.be/vzNcSvKCOyA
"Don't get me started on Henchmen."