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Currently in the Alt Verse
Individual
Character's full name: Tristin Wick
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Kappa Five
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Date of Birth: 25th March 1987
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: NYC, NY.
Nationality: Proud U.S. Citizen
Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Irish American
Appearance
Hair color and style: Black, short, brushed and oiled back, with a receding hairline.
Skin Tone: Pale caucasian.
Eye Color: Dark brown, like well polished walnut wood.
Height: 5’ 8
Build: Thin to middling build, unremarkably muscled, unremarkably lean.
Visible mutation: Not Applicable.
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: An array of thin scars, the natural result of a career as a special agent, one thicker scar across the outside of his right thigh from a bullet graze. A small, unadorned tattoo of the greek letter Kappa on the left shoulder blade. No piercings.
Other features: A cool edge to his often emotionless voice.
Everyday clothing style: Various fashionable suits from September through May (Weather permitting), with a dark mid thigh length overcoat and scarf for the winter. Summer calls for losing his tie, and if it is truly sweltering, swapping his button down for a t-shirt and a lighter jacket. The jackets never come off in public, and are almost always buttoned.
Uniform: A black suit, with black tie, black belt, and perfectly polished black shoes, white shirt. The classic special agent look. Dark shades optional.
Sleepwear: White tank top and plaid pyjama pants or boxers, weather depending.
Miscellaneous clothing: A well worn set of wooden rosary beads worn around the neck, under the shirt, a gift from his mother on his confirmation. Black leather driving gloves are never far from his person, usually in a pocket or his laptop bag, which he uses as a more rigid satchel bag, keeping a loaded tranq pistol concealed in the front pocket. A shoulder holster under his left arm containing a compact 9mm pistol (S&W M&P 9mm). Another shoulder holster under the right arm holding a SUPER chip gun.
Character
Personality: Cold and professional with no time for flair and showmanship. Tristin is happiest when he is either completely ignored, or better yet when people flinch as his gaze rests on them. His face is a strict blank slate, though a scowl forever lingers in his eyes, like he’s passing judgement on everything before him and it is found wanting. When emotion does creep onto his face it is most commonly irritation or arrogant self-satisfaction, though even those are subdued.
Raised as a Catholic Tristin was taught to hate the devil spawn that was mutant kind. He was taught they had been sent to kill all the good folk that would resist the coming of the anti-christ, and that they were to be feared above all others. Taught to never question the clergy, Tristin took their warnings into his heart and made them part of himself. He came to believe the mutants flocking to New York were organising and gathering to take over the United States to use its military strength to lead their crusade. Their perversion of a house of god into their so called Sanctuary simply reinforced his belief. When his own ability became apparent, he at first feared it. His priest assured him he was simply to be God’s instrument against the mutants. His shield for humankind. This too Tristin took to heart.
A patriot as much as he is a God fearing man, Tristin believes in the United States, its laws and its governments, as deeply as he does his faith, though he would always rank it second, as per the first commandment. He believes it his calling to protect his country from threats within and without. Where that crosses over with the destruction or controlling of the devil spawn mutants he believes it is his god given duty to intervene to the best capacity he can.
Obedience was a strong part of Tristin’s upbringing, and he neither questions nor contradicts his superiors, the clergy, or his mother. It is that alone that has convinced him to work with mutants, who he would be happier to see contained or eradicated. He knows they are a necessary evil, and he knows he’d rather risk mutants against mutants than good honest humans. That doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.
Despite his lack of compassion and sympathy under most circumstances Tristin’s icy demeanour does break for his family and his church. Most of them would describe him as friendly and warm. His Ma is especially dear to him, as are his brothers and sisters. They would all be surprised to hear how he usually behaves away from them, as he had never seemed that kind of person growing up.
Hobbies/ Interests: Tristin, as with a lot of people in his line of work, is rather married to his job. Most of his hobbies are really just practice for work. Shooting, running, people watching, martial arts. He doesn’t believe in down time except for Mass, and doesn’t have any concept of what he’ll do when he retires besides consult.
Job or part time job and description: SUPER Agent
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Tristin is very much afraid of mutants taking over humans as the dominant species, or killing his family, and is concerned about being forced to give up his job through injury or circumstance. He has no particular phobias, but hates failure.
Special talents: He has a quick draw, a steady hand under pressure, and is a good shot with handguns. He’s an excellent liar, and decent at reading people’s expressions.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Tristin likes to see himself as a paragon of the law, and a vessel of the Lord’s will. People outside of the CIA probably see him as rather evil, using the full powers granted him by the Agency to capture or kill mutants that refuse put themselves under the power of SUPER. He would not steal unless SUPER required it of him, donates to human centric charities, and does his best to cause no harm to God’s creatures, though he eats meat.
Mutations
Mutation description: Adapted Human
Strengths: Nullifies mutants within 9ft
Weaknesses and Limitations: Isn’t a mutant.
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Tristin’s physical talents are in endurance thanks to a focus on cardiovascular training, and reflexes from his firearms and martial arts training. His strength, due to his physique, is below average, though his light frame allows him to pull himself up ledges and climb (provided plenty of foot and hand holds). His speed is slightly above average, with running being his primary mode of exercise, training for speed over three to five miles, not sprinting, and not marathons. His flexibility is slightly above average, though starting to show signs of age, with occasional stiffness in his knees during winter.
Fighting Style: Shoot em. If that fails, or isn’t possible, attempt to put some distance between his opponent and himself to give himself options. If that’s also failing, he’ll fall back on his hand to hand training from SUPER mixed with Tai Chi and more than a little dirty fighting.
Fighting Style Pros/Cons: He’s got a plan for every occasion! Guns, the great equaliser, aren’t of great use if ambushed or otherwise surprised, given how long it takes to draw, aim, and fire. It’s just so much dead weight if it’s holstered and someone’s within 16 feet. He’d know, he’s measured.
Running is great if it works, but tends to just leave one tired if it doesn’t, and poses the hazard of tripping and getting caught prone.
He can hold his own hand to hand with his regular training, but his usual clothing isn’t exactly designed for fighting, and he’s not a big guy. Actually, he’s a small guy, and that’s a hell of a disadvantage in a melee. Combined with the first telling signs of age in his body he enters hand to hand fighting only when he has no other option, but with the determination to win.
History Of Your Character
Tristin Wick was born in Queens borough, New York City, the third child and second son of Abigail and Michael Wick’s eventual brood of seven. By all accounts he was a happy child, prone to laughing and playing with his siblings and other children of their church and neighbourhood. His parents were particularly happy to have a child that took to the message of obedience to church and family so quickly. Though they were certainly never wealthy, their family never went cold or hungry, a fact Michael Wick was extremely proud of. It is little surprise that Tristin grew up fully buying into the belief that America was the greatest country on Earth.
His obedience served him well at school, where he was largely overlooked by the school population but often praised by his teachers, not for natural cleverness but for diligent study. His diligence was largely influenced by his Ma’s insistence that he go to college, and his determination to see her and his father proud and provided for in their retirement.
Tristin was also rather well liked among his church group, a pool from which he pulled the majority of his friends. He was the very model of a good Catholic, attending mass every Sunday and every holy day, and serving as an altar boy from the time he was able. He formed a close relationship with Father Eugene, who conducted his confirmation and first communion. It was from Father Eugene that Tristin learned to fear Mutants, coming to view them as spawn and servants of the devil.
It is perhaps small surprise that when a 15 year old Tristin first started noticing his ability to nullify mutants that he came to fear he was one. He told Father Eugene in a tearful confession, however the Priest beseeched the boy to not cry, but instead rejoice, for he had clearly been chosen by God to serve as his sword and shield on earth against the mutant scourge. This did wonders to calm the boy, and perhaps more than anything set him on his eventual path. He left that confession happier than ever.
When it came time for college Tristin’s diligence in school and church community payed dividends, his high GPA and regular extracurriculars surrounding the church putting him in good stead for his applications. He was ultimately accepted to NYU on a partial scholarship where he studied a Business major with an Accounting focus. Maintaining his diligence, and with a disinclination to party given the temptation it would bring for sin, Tristin graduated with honours at 23, still the always smiling boy his mother had raised.
At a loss for how best to serve his country, Tristin applied for the CIA, entrusting them with his future. It didn’t take long for his nature as an adapted to become known via the strict background checks, and Tristin was soon inducted into SUPER, recieving field training in the detection, capturing, tracking, and combating of mutants. It was during the intense two year training program, though he can hardly remember when, that Tristin lost his happy attitude and passion, replaced by his now nearly permanent impassiveness. His devotion to his agency and country stop him from closely examining the mental conditioning of his training and questioning whether it might be better termed brain washing. All he knows is now it is only his family and church that see the old Tristin. The very same people he has spent five years lying to about his job. Made much harder when he had to explain where he managed to pick up a bullet wound in his supposed job as a government accountant. The mutant that fired the shot did not need to make any explanations.
As of April 2017 Tristin lived out of an unassuming apartment within walking distance of SUPER headquarters and an easy drive of his church. Much of his money went to paying his thankfully fast shrinking student loans, and he had few luxuries, though he did splurge on a nice bed. For convenience he did own a car, a black fade into the background sort of car, nothing fancy, but in-keeping with his professional image.
Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: Praise be to Google!
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: Cafas Johnson
Sample RP:
It was the sort of mission that most tested Tristin’s faith in his superiors. Someone’s chip had stopped moving, and they hadn’t registered a power activation in hours. It meant one of two things. Either the mutant was dead, which was good, or the mutant had removed their chip, which was very bad. Mutants that removed chips started asking questions. Questions were dangerous. It would all be so much simpler to simply kill them as God intended.
Tristin pulled on his gloves.
The suited Agent checked the GPS tracker again, pressed his rosary to his lips, then rounded the final corner. No corpse. Bad sign. He offered a silent prayer for a quick search to St Anthony before striding into the alley, unbuttoning his jacket. Definitely no corpse. He had to be careful of a trap, this one could burn him with its hands. Satan’s own acid blood in his opinion.
Tristin’s eyes found the tiny chip, exposed on the concrete in a small patch of blood. The SUPER agent paused to scan his surroundings, then squatted down. His left hand gently and expertly picked up the chip, his right hand discreetly unclasped the front pocket of his bag. The pocket where his tranq pistol was concealed.
A sudden rush of movement from behind. Tristin drew as he stood and turned, face impassive. The mutant was charging from his cover behind a large stack of trash bags. A demonic fury in its eyes, the creature clasped Tristin’s face with both hands, screaming for death and looming over the shorter man. Agent Wick simply stared back into his eyes. A sudden fear blossomed there. Then they lost focus and rolled back into his head, his hands clutching at a small, synthetically feathered dart stuck in the soft tissue between the collarbone and neck.
Wick retrieved the dart for disposal, reloaded and replaced his tranq pistol, and reached for his chip gun under his jacket. There was a soft click as he pressed it into the mutant’s back before it too was holstered. Then he dialed his handler at HQ. The line went live, but stayed silent. ”Need a taxi for two.” He hung up and looked down at the unconscious mutant. ”You’ll be going back to hell the long way.”
A dark van pulled up to the alley mouth within ten minutes. The impassive man’s suit was rebuttoned, his hair smoothed. He stepped into the vehicle wordlessly while two nondescript labourers hauled the body in after him. Another day, another success. Tristin allowed himself the shadow of a smug smile. Plenty of hours left in the work day.
You never know your luck in a big city.
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