Individual Character's full name: Rupert Kelley
Gender: Male
Age: 39
Birthday: July 27, 1979
Nationality/ Ethnicity: American Mutt, with strong flavors of Italian and Irish.
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Born in upstate New York; currently lives in an apartment in New York City, a few blocks shy of Central Park.
AppearanceHair color and style: Black, short, and curly.
Eyes: Muddy hazel.
Height: 5'11"
Build: Pretty toned; Rupert regularly puts in time at the NYPD's gym.
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: None
Everyday clothing style: Casual jeans or beater slacks and a T-shirt or sweater, usually advertising some rock band or another. Sometimes wears a gray flat hat.
Uniform: NYPD blues
Sleepwear: Boxers with a tacky pattern.
CharacterPersonality: Rupert's a good guy, a great insomniac, and an excellent patron of coffee shops. Known for his strong morals and the rants espousing them. He's still a bit unsteady on his feet and freaking out a little about the whole "got stuck on the wrong side of an alternate universe portal" thing, but at least he's got an apartment. And a job. And a… poodle? He is
not calling that dog 'Flipsy.'
Hobbies/ Interests: Cooking, dogs, religion. He volunteers regularly at a local Evangelical Free church.
Job or part time job and description: Rupert works as a lowly still-on-probation NYPD beat cop. He was a police sergeant in the other universe, but his resume (and seniority) didn't survive the portal.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: That he's actually in a coma, or maybe this is just a dream. That nothing he does is going to matter.
Special talents: Rupert's been cooking since an elective class in high school, and he's not so shabby at it. Ask your wife about his eggplant parm.
MoralityGood/ bad/ neutral/ other: Lawful(ish) good. Rupert believes in working within the law to make the world a better place. And if the law is a little too rigid, and the punishment doesn't fit the crime, then maybe he can just pretend he didn't see what he just saw.
MutationsHuman!
Fighting StyleExplanation: He's put in ample time on the gun range during his time as a police officer. Also carries pepper spray and a taser.
Pros for fighting style: Fairly well trained, and lots of on the job experience.
Cons for fighting style: His weapons are pretty darn conventional, and it's not like the NYPD
encourages using them. Nor does he particularly want to. Can't we all just get along?
Faction AllegianceNone (NYPD)
History Of Your CharacterRupert was living the life of a perfectly normal police sergeant until a portal to an alternate reality opened up in his city. Frankly it was a little creepy, and he wanted nothing to do with it. After a year of people walking in and out of the thing with no problem, his coworkers finally convinced him to stop being a pussy about it.
So he went to get a cup of coffee on the other side, and the door closed behind him.
Huh.
Now he's over in the main MRO!verse, working his way back up the ranks of the NYPD, and living in the apartment of his doppelganger. The old Rupert hasn't been seen, and is presumed equally lost.
RoleplayWhat's your OOC alias? Calley
Where did you learn about this site?: Google!
Do you have any other existing characters, if so who: *takes a breath* CalleySlateMaxineJiriBennuPanu
Sample RP: "Live a little, Rup," they'd said.
"It's a freaking alternate universe that you can walk too," they'd said.
"My wife and I took the kids last weekend, of course it's safe, you really think it's going to start turning people to jelly? Thing's been open a year, it ain't going anywhere," they'd said.
"Bet it's got coffee shops you haven't tried," they'd said.
And that's how, on the first of July, Rupert Kelley, thirty-nine year old bachelor, Sergeant in the NYPD's Mutant Relations and Support department (
yes that made them the mutants' MRS', shut up conservative newscasters), found himself staring at a closed portal from the wrong side.
"Huh," he'd said, holding his coffee. They'd he'd taken a sip, and helped the police on this side settle down an increasingly agitated crowd. They'd seemed a little surprised to see him. Correction: a little surprised to see him in
uniform. He'd come after work. Just a quick stop over, just a few blocks in. It'd been weird and he'd been ready to go home.
On this side of the portal, apparently he'd been on disability for years. Something about a stabbed lung. And leg. And… everywhere.
On this side of the portal, apparently he'd been a Detective in the Mutant-Related Crimes department. And if "MRC" was really any better than "MRS", he'd eat his hat. Which was a flat cap, why was everyone so confused by that?
Oh, of course: because on this side of the portal, he'd worn a fedora.
He didn't find the fedora in the other Rupert's apartment, but he did find a mini-poodle. He'd filled her water dish, and followed her to the cabinet her food was kept in. Then he'd cleared some trash off the couch and sat down. He just... needed to sit a minute.
"Huh."
His credit cards didn't work here. The bank he used didn't exist. His driver's license was the wrong color. One of the guys at the station, a friend who didn't know him at all but knew the
other him, had put him up for a few nights while they tried to get in touch with the Rupert here, because what do you do with an alternate universe doppleganger? You try dumping him on his other self, apparently. But the Rupert here wasn't answering his phone, wasn't answering the door, was letting his mail pile up while his poodle whined inside. They'd gotten the landlady to let him in.
"Your name's on the lease," she'd said.
"You pay the rent, you keep the place."Wherever the other him had ended up when the portal closed, Rupert hoped
his coffee had been worth it.
The poodle tried and failed to jump up on the couch. She was… pretty old. Rupert picked her up, and stared into her cataracts as she squiggled in his hands. "Flipsy," the name on her collar said, and he wondered what awful ex he'd let name her
that.
"Listen, dog," he said,
"I don’t know you, you don't know me, but I've had worse roommates in my life. Don't make a mess and I'll keep your bowl full. Capisce?"The poodle licked his chin. He set her back on the floor, and she went tottering off into stacks of garbage as tall as she was.
…Other Rupert was a real winner.
This Rupert sighed, and dug out the trash bags. They were right under the counter where he always kept them. Wouldn't have killed the other him to
use them.
This Rupert rolled up the sleeves of his uniform—the only clothes he owned here, the only thing really
his—and got to work.
---ORIGINAL RUPERT PROFILE---Police NPCsIndividual Character's full name: Rupert Kelley
Gender: Male
Age: 39
Birthday: July 27, 1979
Nationality/ Ethnicity: American Mutt, with strong flavors of Italian and Irish.
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Born in upstate New York; currently lives in an apartment in New York City, a few blocks shy of Central Park.
AppearanceHair color and style: Black, short, and curly.
Eyes: Muddy hazel.
Height: 5'11"
Build: Average; he tries to stay in shape with regular walks, but his past injuries have made strenuous exercise an impossible thing for him to do regularly.
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: Rup has a round stab wound at the lower left side of his chest that has left him with a wheeze, and a smaller one on his right leg that has left him with a limp.
Everyday clothing style: Casual jeans or beater slacks and a T-shirt or sweater, usually advertising some rock band or another.
Uniform as a Veteran: A black suit, a classy clip-on tie, and a freshly ironed button-up shirt; polished dress shoes as well, of course. Black sunglasses, on occasion.
Sleepwear: Boxers with a tacky pattern.
CharacterPersonality: Rupert's a good guy, a great insomniac, and an excellent patron of coffee shops. Known for his temper and his strong morals, though just what morals those happen to be on any given day tends to change based upon how many of his friends have been killed by freaks recently. He sees a therapist on a monthly basis, and has since surviving the Sanctuary Police Massacre back in November of 2006.
Hobbies/ Interests: Cooking, dogs, religion, vigilantism. He takes his not-a-son rabbit mutant to church every Sunday, and volunteers regularly at a local Evangelical Free church.
Job or part time job and description: Rupert works part time as a waiter and cook at Insomniacs Anonymous, a small 24-7 coffee shop near Central Park. Officially, he's retired from being an NYPD MRC detective due to disability.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: The freaks are the evolution of humanity, and it's only a matter of time until they up their efforts to actively replace humans. It's not a fear, but it's sure a concern, and he's not planning to go quietly into the night. If humans are going down, he'll personally see to it that they don't go down alone.
Special talents: Rupert's been cooking since an elective class in high school, and he's not so shabby at it. Ask your wife about his eggplant parm.
MoralityGood/ bad/ neutral/ other: Rupert is a good man. Damned if he'll admit it, though, and it's a fact that's starting to get hidden under blood. He doesn't like killing the freaks, but if they kill humans first, then someone's got to go put them down before they do it again. Rupert risks his life to make the world a better place, the only way he can see how.
MutationsDon't insult him. Rupert is a certified, card-carrying member of the human race.
Fighting StyleExplanation: Against mutants, he'll shoot to kill. It's safe to say he doesn't have a style—he has a gun. Note: Unless he's specifically out on a Veteran's mission, he won't try to get into a physical match with a mutant; verbal is another matter entirely.
Pros for fighting style: He's got a gun with a silencer.
Cons for fighting style: Not every freak cares.
Faction AllegianceUnaffiliated; he acts in a two-man vigilante team that calls itself the Veterans
History Of Your CharacterIC History (things that have actually been RPed at MRO):
Rupert worked as a Detective with the NYPD until the Winter of 2007/2008, when he was put on loan to the New York Detention Center for Dangerous Mutants as a Supervisor. He had fallen in love with a little ice chanter named Raina along the way, and joined up with the mutant's Resistance: during the breakout in the Spring of 2008, it was Rupert who sabotaged the drugs that had been sedating and inhibiting the inmate's power use, and it was Rupert who shut off the collars and bracelets that mercilessly electrocuted any inmate who accessed their power. It was also Rupert who went on a one-man mission to make sure Isabel Duskmoor was the one freak who did not escape. He succeeded. That Spring, Isabel Duskmoor stood trial for her crimes--and was declared Not Guilty by the State of New York, in a trial that couldn't have been anything but rigged. Combine Rupert's sudden disillusionment with the justice system with his persistent health problems, and he retired from the force. Add in the carnage he had witnessed during the Camp breakout and the renewed efforts of Isabel and the Order to execute any NYPD officer attempting to establish justice in the city, and Rupert knew that it was time to take matters into his own hands. Following a mass funeral of NYPD officers killed by Isabel and Giant's Bane, James Delray, a former beat officer with the NYPD approached Rupert and made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
Rupert Kelley and James Delray have begun selectively targeting mutants with criminal records, killing them before they can commit any more crimes against humanity. They call themselves the Veterans. Their calling card is a black fedora hat left over the euthanized freak's face, with a typed note listing the mutie's crimes tucked into the brim.
Following a dream of the Future in which he was married to Raina with a baby on the way—and a pastor,
and a bleeding-heart mutant lover—Rupert has begun to rethink things about the muties. A bit. They’re still freaks.
Backstory History (before I started RPing with him):
Rupert got into the police biz because he had a strong sense of justice. Mutants have always made his skin crawl, but he never much minded them until November of 2006, when he and his former partner responded to a call for backup at the Sanctuary's grand opening. His former partner got his throat ripped out by a mutant that could turn into a raptor. Rupert got a third of his lung capacity stabbed out of him by a girl with a ribbon in her hair. At the Sanctuary, Rupert learned a lesson: mutants aren't human. After he got out of the hospital and got his promotion to Detective, he requested to be put on mutant-related cases, and found himself the partner of Cassandra Elliot—one of the few pro-mutant advocates left on the force after the Sanctuary Massacre. Contrary to her opinion, and contrary to the Church of Humanity newsletter he receives in his mailbox every week, he's not a zealot; he's just a normal police officer who would strongly appreciate it if mutants didn't break the law so he didn't have to try and arrest them—and, probably, end up shooting them.
RoleplayWhere did you learn about this site?: Google!
Do you have any other existing characters, if so who: Calley (1st chara), Slate (3rd chara). Rup is my second.
Sample RP: It was Rupert who made the fatal mistake. For all that Cassandra was a bleeding-heart mutant lover, she never took her sights off of their suspect. Detective Rupert Kelley heard the growl, and he swung his flashlight away from their suspect and towards that deep-throated noise. That's when everything hit the fan. Just for the record: when you're arresting mutants, you are actually
asking the fan to be hit. You are going up to the fan and saying, "Do your worst, Blade-Face."
When you're arresting a mutant who can teleport through shadows,
do not take the flashlight off of him. Their suspect had broken Cassandra's flashlight against a countertop and who the hell knew where the light switches were in his apartment, but they'd been good with Rupert's flood beam. Until he was stupid enough to swing it around, and saw the reflecting gleam of eyes pacing down the hallway from the bedroom.
The growl was coming from the throat of the full-grown Rottweiler. The Rott had at least fifty pounds on Rupert. "Nice doggie," he had time to say before it full-out charged. He shot it without hesitation; red bloomed on its chest, and it went down. Poor dog never stood a chance—it wasn't its fault it had a criminal for an owner.
Behind him, another gun went off—and not police issue, either. Before he'd turned fully around, there was a third shot: Cassandra had discharged her own weapon. His flashlight found their suspect on the floor again, clutching his hand. Cassandra was calmly kicking the mutant's gun away from him, her own aim never wavering. Somewhere in the darkness there was a hole in the wall where the man had wasted a bullet.
"He teleported for a gun?" Rupert asked incredulously. "And then he teleported
back? Smart, mutie. Real smart. Hands behind your back, please. Hands
behind your back. Thank you. David Barnes, you are under arrest for the murder of Samuel Johnson. You have the right to remain silent—" Actually,
humans had the right to remain silent, but the law hadn't caught up with the times yet. Rupert helped their suspect into the handcuffs with a foot to the small of the mutant's back.
Yes, Cassandra shot your hand. Suck it up and stop balling your eyes out, pansy. The mutant was lucky Cassandra was such a dead shot; as much as Rupert liked to see mutants live to see their own trials, there was no way he'd have tried something that fancy. He'd have just shot the man straight out like that poor dog of his. Out of all the officers on the NYPD, Cassandra had the most balls: she'd never fired a lethal shot at a mutant. She always took the chance that she'd be alive to fire a second shot. When dealing with mutants, that was pretty optimistic. Personally, if this guy made one false move, Rupert was going to—
"May I borrow your flashlight, Detective?" Cassandra asked simply.
"Yeah, sure—"
"Would you please look for a light switch, Detective?"
"Sure." Rupert handed off his flashlight and took his foot off of the mutant's back, leaving the guy to Cassandra. He found the light switch in the little kitchen off of the main room, covered over in five layers of duct tape. Rupert got the impression their mutie didn't like light much. He pulled off the tape, flipped the switch, and smiled as harsh florescent lighting washed through the apartment. Their mutant screamed. Freak.
Cassandra calmly called for an ambulance with her phone in one hand. Her gun was in her other, calmly tracing the mutant's path as he whimpered and writhed on the floor, getting the blood from his hand everywhere. It wasn't a serious wound, but it sure was a bleeder. It was times like this when Rupert realized just how scary his partner was. Detective Cassandra Elliot: not on his list of cold women to mess with. "We need one ambulance at—"
"Two," Rupert corrected her, before his eyes had finished registering what he saw on the hallway floor. Cassandra turned her head slightly, took in the naked woman, and corrected herself without so much as batting an eye:
"—Two ambulances at—"
Rupert swore fluently, took of his coat, and went over to try and stop a mutant who could turn into a Rott from bleeding to death from that gun shot wound right below her collar bone. Women who turned into dogs. Seriously. And some people still pretended these things were human?
"You're going to be all right, Miss." Rupert spoke quietly, pressing his coat down as hard as he could. He really wished her scared eyes weren't locked on his. He tried to look like he didn't know she was bleeding out far too fast. "The ambulance is on the way." Mutants sucked. And he really, really needed to wash his hands now—seriously, he just needed to invest in some good gloves. It was a miracle he hadn't contracted some horrible disease from these people yet, with all the ones they'd been shooting.
At least he felt better about shooting the dog.
