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Individual
Character's full name: Darby Michael Bauhm
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Mickey/Crash
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Date of Birth: 08/23/1987
Nationality/ Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Columbus, OH, USA
Theme Song: The Doldrums (Friendly City) by Ceremony
Appearance
Hair color and style: Brown, short hair,
Eyes: Green
Height: 6'2"
Build: Athletic/Average
Visible mutation: (Not applicable)
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: "London Calling The Clash" like on the album cover, across his ribs on the left side. A horned "Devil" face with a pencil thin mustache, like you would see in a cartoon, on the right side of his lower back. The Eagle, Globe, and Anchor crest of the USMC on the left side of his chest, The famous Audrey Hepburn smoking a cigarette in black gloves and dress on his right side, A Jolly Roger with a combat helmet that reads USMC across the brim with a smoking cigarette in its clenched teeth, grinning.with writing underneath that reads "A L'OUTRANCE" in the center of the top of his back, fairly large, stretches to touch both shoulder blades a little bit.
Other features:
Everyday clothing style: Gray jeans, red high-tops or black slip-ons, a band t-shirt or button-down cowboy shirt sleeves rolled up, dark green zip-up hoodie with half the left sleeve missing, a leather jacket over that if it's REALLY cold.
Uniform: (Not applicable)
Sleepwear: Boxer-briefs? Maybe his pants if he's tired, everything he wore that day if he's drunk.
Miscellaneous clothing:
Character
Personality: Mickey's a little full of himself, doesn't try very had to impress anyone. Sometimes he likes to talk and will at length whether or not you're listening, He could just as easily be lost in thought, looking out a window a million miles away from a conversation, although he's still listening. He likes to take jabs at people, bust their chops, but he expects everyone to do it too, he kind of feels deep down like criticism is the essential ingredient to helping people better themselves. He doesn't take anything personally and gets confused by people who do.
Hobbies/ Interests: Astronomy, Music (he plays the drums and has been in a couple bands that never went anywhere), Driving faster, getting into bar fights with greasy people.
Job or part time job and description: Technically he owns half a bar with his brother in Columbus, and takes care of it from time to time when he's in town.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Dying of old age. ignorance, and he really doesn't like to see animals get hurt. (Particularly dogs.)
Special talents: Mickey was an expert marksman in the Corps, so he's a fair shot with just about any gun, he's really not bad at the drums, and he's a real smooth-talker when he needs to be.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Mickey sees himself as above morality. He's going to do what's best for him, and what he sees as best for the world, anyone else he meets either falls into the category of doing the right things or the wrong, not so much good and evil or even just good and bad. You're a part of the problem or a part of the solution. He doesn't see it as his place to change anybody's mind, but if an opposing viewpoint stands in his way he will argue the point until his position is understood clearly.
Mutations
Mutation description: Mickey is impervious to physical harm, in a manner of speaking, Bullets bounce off him, a car driving straight at him would just knock him out of the way and all it would do is tear up his clothes. This stems from his incredible atomic structure. Some kind of energy chain is linked to and covering every cell in Mickey's body, like one of those suits of chain mail but with much smaller links that are weaved into every part of his body, protecting it from the kinds of harm that plague Homo Sapiens on a day to day basis. It is a force controlled by Mickey's brain on a subconscious level that pervades his entire body holding it's structure in place, not allowing a bone to break or even a simple thorn to prick his finger. With intense concentration he can connect this "chain" to surround one other person, or object, the more physical contact he has with said object, the easier it is for him to protect it, likewise, the smaller it is, the easier.
Strengths: Mickey can survive nearly any scrape involving humans, and he can get by alright if he's forced to fight another mutant, for whatever reason. Also it provides him with a lot of opportunities to escape from "traps" of the deadly persuasion. Any pain he receives is dramatically reduced, he can feel being hit but it is more of a mild discomfort since the energy absorbs all of the strength of the impact.
Weaknesses: He is still susceptible to anything that doesn't strictly speaking touch his body. Electricity, Psychic/Telepathic attacks, Radiation, Poisoning (say through food), Suffocation of any kind, sickness, freezing temperatures and things along those lines, could all still potentially kill or injure him.
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Secondary mutation description: (if applicable)
This mutation should be linked or make sense with your first mutation. You don't need a second mutation, but you can develop one later on with moderator approval.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Fighting Style
Explanation: Jujitsu, judo and boxing fundamentals he learned as a marine, Capoeira which he learned before his entrance in the Corps, surrounds his other techniques and is the base of his fighting style.
Pros for fighting style: As a skilled Capoeirista he can hold his own against multiple opponents, and his military training has turned him into a warrior true, so no matter the situation he is level-headed and calm.
Cons for fighting style: Some of the moves in Capoeira can be wide and sweeping leaving him open for attack and it can make it difficult for him to transition quickly if a situation changes suddenly.
Faction Allegiance
Unaffiliated
History Of Your Character
Darby Bauhm grew up in Grandview, OH just outside of Columbus in 1987. From the moment he was born his parents knew something was a little off about him. Mickey was fearless. Even as a child, he never had a monster in the closet or under the bed. In his formative years he was driven to dangerous activities, he would climb to the tops of things in his home and jump off just because he could. This almost lead to disaster several times, because he was playing in the street or approaching a dangerous or rabid animal. His parents shrugged it off for the first few years, that's how kids are supposed to act, they told themselves.
As he got older, he needed an outlet for this destructive energy that seemed to be letting itself out everywhere. He couldn't help but do dangerous and stupid things. Like car-surfing or skitching, it didn't matter, It seemed like Mickey just wanted to laugh in death's face. His father eventually had enough and had Mickey spend his energy more productively, he bought Mickey a drum set. About six months after that, Mr. Bauhm started looking for an excuse to get him out of the house and away from the giant noise makers that had been filling the house with "racket." So Mickey agreed to take some martial arts lessons, his father hoped it would instill some discipline. Mickey hoped he could find someone a couple feet taller with a bone to pick. When Mickey turned 16 he got a car. Three days later he was in a fender bender. Not two months after that, he was in the passenger seat of his girlfriends car when the tail of the car got hit by a drunk driver and spun the two around a few times, nothing serious but the car was totalled. Four months after that, strangely enough the same truck (Although Mickey didn't know it) t-boned his car at a redlight. Luckily it was insured and his parents managed to buy a new car with the settlement check and no one was hurt. About a week after that, Mickey was in a seven-car pile-up somewhere near the end, he doesn't remember it well. This chain of events led to him being known around school as "Crash" the kid that the automotive industry just could not kill. Mickey didn't think much of it though, every time he got in a crash he knew he wasn't going to die, knew for a fact.
Eventually the time came for Crash to leave high school and he knew he wasn't cut for College, and another four years of sitting in lectures and twiddling his thumbs. He had to do something different, something dangerous. So he enlisted in the United States Marine Corps, and signed up for the Infantry. Crash took to war about as well as a kid takes to unwrapping presents. Something about the noise and the heat and the screaming just got him going, got his blood pumped. It was somewhere out in the desert, maybe closer to the mountains in Afghanistan, where Crash pieced together that he was a mutant. A few lucky near-misses that tore up some part of his gear or something, and he realized that he should have gotten hit, After a land mine exploded under his friend not even three feet away, he knew he should be dead. When his enlistment was up he got out, before anyone realized he was a mutant for sure. He tried to piece together when this all started to happen. He thought perhaps the pile-up or maybe the war set him off. He realized he must have some kind of control over his ability, because he had so many tattoos. He decided that when he was not specifically open to whatever it was that intended to "harm" him, he was automatically switched in the "on" position. After this point he also supposed that at some point, with practice he could extend his protection to another object or even more than one. That gem took a while to master, and a lot of eggs. Lately he has just been circling New York, getting involved in the mutant community, helping whatever he can. Mickey recognized soon after he found his abilities that he needed to be at the center of this issue, because it seemed to be the defining event of the twenty-first century. He also kind of wanted to be a superhero when he was a kid.
Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: You know how the internet is, I found it.
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: Nope.
Sample RP:
"I need a cheeseburger." Crash mumbled as he walked backwards against the orange and pink swirls made by the setting sun, sticking his thumb at any car that passed. Which wasn't often. He had been in Indiana for a long time. As he continued his solemn, backwards march, looking back along the expanse of road he had already traveled on foot, his thoughts were compressed into a single word: "Damn." He had started in British Columbia, crossed the border into the U.S. illegally for the fun of it and hitched down the pacific coast to San Francisco after he stopped in Palo Alto to visit some friends from college that still hung around Stanford. He majored in philosophy. After that he had followed the desert out west, and into Arizona and New Mexico, renting hotel rooms for a couple weeks at a time. Long story. There were "Spiritual Journeys" with his Native American "brothers." (he stopped a drunk driver from running over a couple kids.) involving a certain cactus.
Six months since he had left Canada, and three weeks since he left Boulder, and he was walking through the middle of nowhere Indiana. Captain Kirk is from Indiana. He thought to himself, A couple miles down the road he saw a red light in the distance. After he had walked a mile and a half he could clearly make out that it was a 24-hour diner. He had arrived. Few gazes fell on him as he walked through the door, out of the few patrons, only one or two even noticed the new arrival. Crash wasted no time taking a seat over near the grill and the register. The waitress, a nice looking older woman asked Crash what he wanted.
"I'll take a double cheeseburger, fries and do me a favor and get me a glass and a pitcher of water? I've been walking for a while." She nods and walks back to the kitchen. The meal is glorious, except some kid, small looking fellow, giving Crash a look. Judgemental Vegetarian out here? Madness. Crash walks outside and pulls a pack of American Spirits out of his pocket and lights one up. There is a cool breeze tonight, even though it's summer. The scrawny kid walks out of the diner, two men who walked out before him move to block his exit. One of them quickly grabs the kid by the shoulders while the other pulls down the teenager's hood. His skin is blotchy and dark almost purple in places,
"We knew you was a mutie right away little freak. Where you going? You better stay away from our here hometown." The one with the inferiority complex (as Crash saw it anyhow) said.
"Uh, excuse me? Does a diner on the side of the highway really constitute a town?" Was what came out of Crash's mouth before the back of his heel connected to the head of the man who pulled the kids hood down. Mr. Homo Sapien posterchild looked shocked for a second before the kid with the weird skin started to glow, then really shine. Crash uncovered his eyes to see the human covering his eyes and rolling on the ground with his teeth clenched. "Interesting talent there brother. How do you do that?"
"The purple parts of me... they're strongly bio-luminescent." He said smiling.
"Do you have a ride East I could hitch on to? I'm headed for New York." The kid smiled.
"Me too, I can take you at least that far, I'm headed there now, to some friends I met online, in a mutant support forum. That way people can really protect their anonymity if they want to you know?" Crash nodded in agreement.
"Well even if we do separate it'll be good to have another 'mutie' we know for sure in the city." The kid agreed with him. The two would not agree on much on the trip to New York.
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*leaves cookies and milk*
