"You don't have to believe me, just come with me." El held his hand out to Shirl. His fingernails almost glowed in the blacklight. She shrank away from it, as if it radiated hate.
"Yes, it sounds as ridiculous as you think." Shirl took another step back, tripping over a pile of textbooks, and flopped onto her bed. Were it not for her, the black sheets would have blended in with the black carpet, blackout curtains, black wallpaper. She ran her black-tipped fingernails through her bright blonde hair, the dark roots peeking out. It spilled across her shoulders, and the broad black trench coat covering them.
"Yeah, I can read your mind. Nothing special. Trust me, everyone gets as depressed as you. You're not the only one. Now, come on. We don't got all day." El rolled his eyes, the whites glowing unnatural, pale, almost electric. Still, Shirl refused to move. Her near-translucent face started to draw away, and she backed up on the bed. The covers ruffled beneath her, bunching up around her feet.
"It is. What else do I have to tell you?" He tapped his watch, his fingernails clicking against the fine crystal. El smoothed his loafers against the backs of his pants, and watched Shirl bang against the headboard, then attempt to fall through the headboard.
"Why would I lie? Why would I bullshit you with such a ridiculous story? I'm telling you, the government wants you to fight terrorism. Now, just put those Doc Maartens on the floor, walk over to your closet, get some clothes, and let's go." He mimed these actions with his right hand, walking with his index and middle fingers. The initial leer hadn't left his face, but El couldn't quite pull it off, as if there was something holding him back. Probably all the saltpeter he'd eaten before coming here.
"Look, Shirl." He drew out her name like taffy. El's lips twisted when he said it. "We need you. That what you want to hear? We need you. I need you. Oh, baby, I need you. Now let's go." He threw his thumb out over his shoulder. Shirl started shaking. She'd now raveled herself through her sheets, becoming entangled. Sinewy blue strands started orbiting her body, coalesced from the sky around them, burning bright despite the black light.
"Oh, crap. Damn it. Kid, stop it." Despite being only a few years older than Shirl, El greeted everyone as "Kid." This was mostly because he didn't want to remember names, and so few people constantly thought about their own names. "Fuck." He removed a long cylinder from his pocket, pointed it at Shirl, and pressed the button. Two electrodes shot out and planted themselves on her chest. He flicked the button, and twenty thousand volts scored through Shirl, blasting her unconscious. The blue tendrils went flying off in whatever direction they were headed in while orbiting her, and splashed against the walls. One lazy bolt smacked into El's arm, and he dropped the taser, cursing his job.
Rubbing at the burn, he touched his finger to his earpiece. "Ten to One. Ten to One. I've collected the package." El waited for a few seconds, mouthing "blah blah blah" during the response. "No." He rolled his eyes, then flapped his fingers as if they were a duck's bill. "She was getting all glowy. What did you want me to do?" El metronomed his head from side to side. "Sure, yeah, I tried that. Talk is cheap, and the bitch wasn't about to listen. I had to knock her out." Eyes closed, he breathed, then went over to turn off the blacklight. "I did it. Now get me out of here. And, no, I don't care how."
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Character Sketch - Cutter
13. "Cutter." Yes, that is the only word I had in my notes.
James Windborne was left on Martin Windbourne's doorstep as a mere babe, squalling as every child should, ignored as no child should be. The thatched handbasket, handwoven, was lined with cotton balls and newspapers. That as-of-yet unnamed child continued to fuss, and as Martin picked up the flimsy basket, and then picked up the child, placing it in the crook of his blacksmith's right arm, he smiled. Tickled at the thought of raising a child, Martin decided to adopt the boy. Did it matter that his barren wife would likely raise a fuss at this child, this black child so obviously not theirs? Wouldn't the child probably enjoy a better life with the nuns, or really, with not a blacksmith? Maybe it didn't matter. After all, they chose Martin's house. How many of the black families even interacted with the other side of town? Martin was the closest thing to an intermediary.
As if that all wasn't enough, James was a girl.
Growing up in segregated Georgia, separated from the people that understood her, forced to interact with the people that would not have her, she grew up very alone. To combat this, Martin put her to work at the anvil. A mere girl of eight, working alongside much burlier, older men. This was her childhood, at first helping to shoe horses, bringing equipment to and fro. Later, She learned to shape the iron and steel to her will, laboriously, slowly, surely. Say what you will about James, she never lacked for patience. How could she, working in a smithy?
Sometimes, as she read the stories of princesses, with their long, flowing, golden hair, and she uncurled her kinked, short, raven hair, James dreamt of being saved by her prince. Then, she would turn the page, see his white face smiling blandly into the distance, and cry.
As times grew tight, and there was less and less need for functional horse shoeing, and the hired hands started falling away, James lost her small group. Not really friends, not really family, but they were all she had. It took a while, but eventually it came down to Martin and James, while Stella taught middle school. Stella brought home the majority of the money, which only weighed heavier on Martin. Martin never abused James, but Martin also hurt, and it came out in everything that he did. James picked up on it, and adopted the stress.
No matter how much you try to repress something, it'll manifest in some way. For James, her only role models a stressed out father and a mother that didn't like her, she turned to pain to feel in control. Simple cuts, but over time, exposing more than just flesh. They were a way for James to reveal herself to the world, even if no one saw it. She felt like she could control this.
Martin died of a heart attack at his anvil, just as he would have wanted. Two days later, James packed up his favorite hammer, her clothes and what little money he'd bequeathed her, and left for the hopefully more progressive North. The farewell was less than overwhelming:
James: Well.
Stella: Well.
James: Goodbye.
Stella: Safe travel.
Not even a handshake. Those were the last words she spoke to her mother figure.
The cutting didn't stop, but James did start to notice how other people had scars and she didn't. Despite her constant slicing, her thighs were still smooth. It hurt desperately, but never left a physical scar.
When she stepped off the train in New York, she'd gone but a few blocks when someone had flung themselves from a building and cratered a few feet next to her. James walked over to the obviously dead body, and touched it. The man coughed and sputtered, then screamed from deep down. James jumped back, and almost immediately, the wailing ceased.
She found a job in a butchery. Not so hard when the man saw her over-developed right arm, saw her precision and striking skill. Of course, she had to stay in the back where no one could see her, and unbeknownst to her, she was paid less than minimum wage, but he also kept a room upstairs in which she stayed for forty percent of her weekly wage. The best deal she was probably going to find.
So she'd continued to live her life, keeping to herself, wondering what if, occasionally holding the slabs too long, and feeling them squirm in her fingers.
Thirty years passed like that, until the government found this elderly woman, still working in the butcher's shop, working her finely honed skills, having outlived the previous owner.
James has the disproportionate right arm of a smith. She has gained some weight over the years, but remains a muscular, powerful woman. Her face is coarse, from years of work in the heat. It is not that James can't be happy, but she chooses not to be happy, because there has been so little of it in her life. The woman says little, but tends to make her words count when she does speak. In addition, having little experience with interacting with other people, she tends to be quite blunt, lacking tact.
James Windborne was left on Martin Windbourne's doorstep as a mere babe, squalling as every child should, ignored as no child should be. The thatched handbasket, handwoven, was lined with cotton balls and newspapers. That as-of-yet unnamed child continued to fuss, and as Martin picked up the flimsy basket, and then picked up the child, placing it in the crook of his blacksmith's right arm, he smiled. Tickled at the thought of raising a child, Martin decided to adopt the boy. Did it matter that his barren wife would likely raise a fuss at this child, this black child so obviously not theirs? Wouldn't the child probably enjoy a better life with the nuns, or really, with not a blacksmith? Maybe it didn't matter. After all, they chose Martin's house. How many of the black families even interacted with the other side of town? Martin was the closest thing to an intermediary.
As if that all wasn't enough, James was a girl.
Growing up in segregated Georgia, separated from the people that understood her, forced to interact with the people that would not have her, she grew up very alone. To combat this, Martin put her to work at the anvil. A mere girl of eight, working alongside much burlier, older men. This was her childhood, at first helping to shoe horses, bringing equipment to and fro. Later, She learned to shape the iron and steel to her will, laboriously, slowly, surely. Say what you will about James, she never lacked for patience. How could she, working in a smithy?
Sometimes, as she read the stories of princesses, with their long, flowing, golden hair, and she uncurled her kinked, short, raven hair, James dreamt of being saved by her prince. Then, she would turn the page, see his white face smiling blandly into the distance, and cry.
As times grew tight, and there was less and less need for functional horse shoeing, and the hired hands started falling away, James lost her small group. Not really friends, not really family, but they were all she had. It took a while, but eventually it came down to Martin and James, while Stella taught middle school. Stella brought home the majority of the money, which only weighed heavier on Martin. Martin never abused James, but Martin also hurt, and it came out in everything that he did. James picked up on it, and adopted the stress.
No matter how much you try to repress something, it'll manifest in some way. For James, her only role models a stressed out father and a mother that didn't like her, she turned to pain to feel in control. Simple cuts, but over time, exposing more than just flesh. They were a way for James to reveal herself to the world, even if no one saw it. She felt like she could control this.
Martin died of a heart attack at his anvil, just as he would have wanted. Two days later, James packed up his favorite hammer, her clothes and what little money he'd bequeathed her, and left for the hopefully more progressive North. The farewell was less than overwhelming:
James: Well.
Stella: Well.
James: Goodbye.
Stella: Safe travel.
Not even a handshake. Those were the last words she spoke to her mother figure.
The cutting didn't stop, but James did start to notice how other people had scars and she didn't. Despite her constant slicing, her thighs were still smooth. It hurt desperately, but never left a physical scar.
When she stepped off the train in New York, she'd gone but a few blocks when someone had flung themselves from a building and cratered a few feet next to her. James walked over to the obviously dead body, and touched it. The man coughed and sputtered, then screamed from deep down. James jumped back, and almost immediately, the wailing ceased.
She found a job in a butchery. Not so hard when the man saw her over-developed right arm, saw her precision and striking skill. Of course, she had to stay in the back where no one could see her, and unbeknownst to her, she was paid less than minimum wage, but he also kept a room upstairs in which she stayed for forty percent of her weekly wage. The best deal she was probably going to find.
So she'd continued to live her life, keeping to herself, wondering what if, occasionally holding the slabs too long, and feeling them squirm in her fingers.
Thirty years passed like that, until the government found this elderly woman, still working in the butcher's shop, working her finely honed skills, having outlived the previous owner.
James has the disproportionate right arm of a smith. She has gained some weight over the years, but remains a muscular, powerful woman. Her face is coarse, from years of work in the heat. It is not that James can't be happy, but she chooses not to be happy, because there has been so little of it in her life. The woman says little, but tends to make her words count when she does speak. In addition, having little experience with interacting with other people, she tends to be quite blunt, lacking tact.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Character Sketch - Acrophobic
6. Person afraid of heights (Acrophobic) who can fly. Note that this kicks in in midair, causing panic attacks, which cause him to plummet.
G., check me on this one. This may well end up being incredibly indulgent, as, well, to paraphrase the shoe brand, ADIDAF (All Day I Dream Of Flying).
Randy Whitestone was just visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida. He got on the plane, and the stewardesses helped strapped the little five-year old in. The plane took off from New York (JFK Airport), and flew for a few hours. Upon approach, the plane lost power, and the entire structure plummeted earthward. Imagine, if you will, being five, alone and surrounded by tall strangers, strapped into a seat, unable to move around, and all of a sudden, you start falling, even though you can see you aren't really falling. But you are. Even when the plane makes a proper landing when the power kicks back in, and you're sitting there in a puddle of your own urine, shaking, crying for Mom, ready to vomit up a hot dog, you don't believe them. And when it's time to get back on the return plane? Would you get back on? Randy didn't.
He tended towards hugging mother earth, never leaving a few feet from the ground, staying on the first floors of buildings. This caused problems in school, as he refused to go up to the second or third floors of his middle school. He would be engulfed in panic attack if anyone attempted to make him go that high. Gravity was his best friend, and his worst enemy.
When your fears drive you, it is amazing the steps you can take to avoid those fears, rather than deal with them. Live on the first floor, even at a markup in rent. Insist on taking the metro everywhere, just so you don't have to drive, and risk going over bridges suspended over water. Calculate the lowest points in the city, and make those your hangouts. Tell people you've never done a lot of the things in the city, such as the Empire State building, because it's too touristy. We all lie to function, and Randy just lied a little more than most.
You can only deny so much, before being forced to own up. Grandma had a heart attack, and when she hit the ground, had a stroke. He had to go down and see her, because he hadn't seen Grandma since that ill-fated trip. They couldn't wait for the drive, because she was in very unstable condition. So they went to the airport, paid ridiculous amounts of money, and got on a plane. Randy started huffing, nearly breaking the armrests in half by gripping so hard. The plane took off, and the world started to end for Randy.
Though no one saw it, while they were trapped at thirty-five thousand feet, and Randy shook and panted and started to wonder where he was, he felt that all-too-remembered falling sensation, but the plane was stable, and no one was panicking. Then, he realized he was levitating a few inches from the cushion. Had to be a trick of the mind, an illusion. He passed a hand beneath him, and realized that it wasn't a lie.
They made it on time, but Grandma still died on the operating table.
At two AM one night, Randy alit from his bedroom window in Grandpa's house. He soared through the skies, panicking the entire time, sobbing and laughing. A few times, he lost track of where he was, and started falling, but would eventually remember what he was capable of, and would find his way again. So it continued with these midnight excursions, always shocking him, but giving him a glimpse into the "What if?" No stranger to dissembling, Randy now had to make a new set of lies for why he was tired all the time.
Think of Randy as a bumblebee, a little too-pear shaped, a little too squat, a little too unable to fly according to the laws of physics, yet still defying gravity every night from two to two thirty. He's taken to cropping his hair short in order to keep it out of his eyes, and tends to wear clothing that is form fitting, but not tight, to keep from flapping every which way while in the sky. All of his clothing is in muted colors, to keep from being detected. He continues to lie to everyone around him to keep from having to get too high.
G., check me on this one. This may well end up being incredibly indulgent, as, well, to paraphrase the shoe brand, ADIDAF (All Day I Dream Of Flying).
Randy Whitestone was just visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Florida. He got on the plane, and the stewardesses helped strapped the little five-year old in. The plane took off from New York (JFK Airport), and flew for a few hours. Upon approach, the plane lost power, and the entire structure plummeted earthward. Imagine, if you will, being five, alone and surrounded by tall strangers, strapped into a seat, unable to move around, and all of a sudden, you start falling, even though you can see you aren't really falling. But you are. Even when the plane makes a proper landing when the power kicks back in, and you're sitting there in a puddle of your own urine, shaking, crying for Mom, ready to vomit up a hot dog, you don't believe them. And when it's time to get back on the return plane? Would you get back on? Randy didn't.
He tended towards hugging mother earth, never leaving a few feet from the ground, staying on the first floors of buildings. This caused problems in school, as he refused to go up to the second or third floors of his middle school. He would be engulfed in panic attack if anyone attempted to make him go that high. Gravity was his best friend, and his worst enemy.
When your fears drive you, it is amazing the steps you can take to avoid those fears, rather than deal with them. Live on the first floor, even at a markup in rent. Insist on taking the metro everywhere, just so you don't have to drive, and risk going over bridges suspended over water. Calculate the lowest points in the city, and make those your hangouts. Tell people you've never done a lot of the things in the city, such as the Empire State building, because it's too touristy. We all lie to function, and Randy just lied a little more than most.
You can only deny so much, before being forced to own up. Grandma had a heart attack, and when she hit the ground, had a stroke. He had to go down and see her, because he hadn't seen Grandma since that ill-fated trip. They couldn't wait for the drive, because she was in very unstable condition. So they went to the airport, paid ridiculous amounts of money, and got on a plane. Randy started huffing, nearly breaking the armrests in half by gripping so hard. The plane took off, and the world started to end for Randy.
Though no one saw it, while they were trapped at thirty-five thousand feet, and Randy shook and panted and started to wonder where he was, he felt that all-too-remembered falling sensation, but the plane was stable, and no one was panicking. Then, he realized he was levitating a few inches from the cushion. Had to be a trick of the mind, an illusion. He passed a hand beneath him, and realized that it wasn't a lie.
They made it on time, but Grandma still died on the operating table.
At two AM one night, Randy alit from his bedroom window in Grandpa's house. He soared through the skies, panicking the entire time, sobbing and laughing. A few times, he lost track of where he was, and started falling, but would eventually remember what he was capable of, and would find his way again. So it continued with these midnight excursions, always shocking him, but giving him a glimpse into the "What if?" No stranger to dissembling, Randy now had to make a new set of lies for why he was tired all the time.
Think of Randy as a bumblebee, a little too-pear shaped, a little too squat, a little too unable to fly according to the laws of physics, yet still defying gravity every night from two to two thirty. He's taken to cropping his hair short in order to keep it out of his eyes, and tends to wear clothing that is form fitting, but not tight, to keep from flapping every which way while in the sky. All of his clothing is in muted colors, to keep from being detected. He continues to lie to everyone around him to keep from having to get too high.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Remaining Characters
1. ADHD kid will pop Ritalin to go even faster. Comic relief?
2. Super-depressed Girl (SDG) takes drugs to keep herself sane, as she suffers from extreme depression. The deeper her depression, the more heightened her powers. Tip the scales too far, and she'll take out everyone around her in a fit of rage. Emo Hulk?
3. Old man hopped up on heroin before a fight, because he's always in pain, and can't die. More experienced, bitter and sarcastic, though appears much younger. He's a loner, and we don't know if he has, or wants, family. Keeps to himself.
4. Empath suffering from social anxiety disorder, making everyone around her feel fear, which fuels her.
5. Asperger's syndrome, inexplicably charismatic, everyone loves him, but he doesn't really even get human interaction or personality.
7. Bipolar depressive: The manic slows time, while the depressive speeds time. Really, that's just cruel.
8. "Kleptomaniac." Yes, that is the only word I had in my notes.
9. Super speedster smokes pot to slow things down, and interact with the world at large.
10. Amnesiac believes they're someone that can do great things.
11. Sociopathic precognitive convinced that violence triggers his visions of the future. Constant random acts of violence fuel his premonitions. However, they're not all true. Like most things in life, it's not that he's always right, or always wrong, just a mix. He just doesn't yet realize it.
12. A compulsive gambler makes other lucky.
2. Super-depressed Girl (SDG) takes drugs to keep herself sane, as she suffers from extreme depression. The deeper her depression, the more heightened her powers. Tip the scales too far, and she'll take out everyone around her in a fit of rage. Emo Hulk?
3. Old man hopped up on heroin before a fight, because he's always in pain, and can't die. More experienced, bitter and sarcastic, though appears much younger. He's a loner, and we don't know if he has, or wants, family. Keeps to himself.
4. Empath suffering from social anxiety disorder, making everyone around her feel fear, which fuels her.
5. Asperger's syndrome, inexplicably charismatic, everyone loves him, but he doesn't really even get human interaction or personality.
7. Bipolar depressive: The manic slows time, while the depressive speeds time. Really, that's just cruel.
8. "Kleptomaniac." Yes, that is the only word I had in my notes.
9. Super speedster smokes pot to slow things down, and interact with the world at large.
10. Amnesiac believes they're someone that can do great things.
11. Sociopathic precognitive convinced that violence triggers his visions of the future. Constant random acts of violence fuel his premonitions. However, they're not all true. Like most things in life, it's not that he's always right, or always wrong, just a mix. He just doesn't yet realize it.
12. A compulsive gambler makes other lucky.
Thematic Schematic
We'll return to this in the future as things continue to evolve, but I want to get some basic (obvious) ideas down, just in case.
What's at stake?
For The Group, their continued existence. In a way, they're struggling to carve out a niche in a world that may or may not be passing them by. This is not a last-ditch attempt, but it is certainly going to be one of their last acts should this fail. They're becoming an anachronism in a world that is finally winding its slow way towards peace, and in a way, this team is a way to keep hope alive, by killing people. Is it brutal, and does it contravene what they originally believed in? Yes. Have they lost sight of what originally drove them? Yes. This is the problem with becoming single-minded; sometimes, you even lose track of your singular goal, you're so focused on getting there.
The government is much the same as The Group. In a twisted way, we're going to see them parallel each other. Decentralized entities searching for a purpose, and willing to manufacture it in any way possible, just to justify their own existence. I keep harping on it in my own head, but the law is a juggernaut that feeds itself. In a way, the government is the same way, attempting to fuel itself and keep itself running. They are also becoming increasingly relevant in this newer, gentler world. They are no longer defined by "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" because no one is lacking for any of the three. They now need to find a definition, and choose to be the yang to The Group's yin. We are all defined by our opponents. Who is to say which side is correct?
As for the team, caught in the midst of this, they are all individuals. Whether they'll outwardly admit it or not, each person is defective, broken in some way. Even if they've found a way to function in society, society nonetheless shuns them, rejects them, for something they can't truly help. They've got a variety of reasons to join "group therapy." Jail time, normalcy, financial gain, redemption, revenge, more drugs, boredom, blackmail, justice, altruism. However the reason they found themselves coming to the team, they develop a sense of camaraderie, and find in their dysfunctional team a family that they never could have found in the outside world. In the end, for these individuals, what they're fighting for is each other. The problem will develop when they realize that remaining a team is untenable, as the Group/government struggle, as well as their fight against [terrorism?] continues to strain them, drive them apart.
What is the overarching theme? I see it as the inevitability of progress, as well as the inability of individuals to resist. You either go along, or get washed away.
What's at stake?
For The Group, their continued existence. In a way, they're struggling to carve out a niche in a world that may or may not be passing them by. This is not a last-ditch attempt, but it is certainly going to be one of their last acts should this fail. They're becoming an anachronism in a world that is finally winding its slow way towards peace, and in a way, this team is a way to keep hope alive, by killing people. Is it brutal, and does it contravene what they originally believed in? Yes. Have they lost sight of what originally drove them? Yes. This is the problem with becoming single-minded; sometimes, you even lose track of your singular goal, you're so focused on getting there.
The government is much the same as The Group. In a twisted way, we're going to see them parallel each other. Decentralized entities searching for a purpose, and willing to manufacture it in any way possible, just to justify their own existence. I keep harping on it in my own head, but the law is a juggernaut that feeds itself. In a way, the government is the same way, attempting to fuel itself and keep itself running. They are also becoming increasingly relevant in this newer, gentler world. They are no longer defined by "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" because no one is lacking for any of the three. They now need to find a definition, and choose to be the yang to The Group's yin. We are all defined by our opponents. Who is to say which side is correct?
As for the team, caught in the midst of this, they are all individuals. Whether they'll outwardly admit it or not, each person is defective, broken in some way. Even if they've found a way to function in society, society nonetheless shuns them, rejects them, for something they can't truly help. They've got a variety of reasons to join "group therapy." Jail time, normalcy, financial gain, redemption, revenge, more drugs, boredom, blackmail, justice, altruism. However the reason they found themselves coming to the team, they develop a sense of camaraderie, and find in their dysfunctional team a family that they never could have found in the outside world. In the end, for these individuals, what they're fighting for is each other. The problem will develop when they realize that remaining a team is untenable, as the Group/government struggle, as well as their fight against [terrorism?] continues to strain them, drive them apart.
What is the overarching theme? I see it as the inevitability of progress, as well as the inability of individuals to resist. You either go along, or get washed away.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Character Sketch - Multiple Personality Disorder
Mara Winters - Team Captain
Mara is the current dominant personality. She initially manifested in Sarah's late teens, and easily becomes everything Sarah wishes she were, strong, confident, a leader, doing everything effortlessly. Mara is nothing less, and nothing more, than a leader of people. It doesn't matter that she herself has no powers. More than anything, such an assorted assemblage of madmen and madwomen must have someone that can control them.
Despite her current dominance, Mara's current fear is that she will drop away and either Sarah or James will manifest at exactly the wrong time. This seed of fear has started to take root, and it is forcing them into the limelight, especially James. One of the issues is that James is causing Mara self-doubt while they talk in their dreams.
Mara walks tall and proud, her head high, and able to see everything going on. She believes that any problem can be solved, given enough time and resources.
Sarah Parker - Junior Therapist
Sarah is the peacemaker, both within the team and within her head. She was the first, but has since "stepped aside" in deference to Mara. Raised by a mother that always found fault, and always demanded outward perfection (she was a trophy wife constantly fearing losing her looks, and thus, her husband), Sarah started vomiting to keep a thin frame at the age of eleven. This combined with having to be perfect everywhere caused her so much stress, Mara manifested initially in her late teens. She was able to keep Mara hidden for a few days, but eventually was discovered.
As time went on, and the stress of always having to excel grew, Sarah started to crack. She started to retreat within herself, exerting dominance only in her psychology classes, and to study. Everywhere else, strong, confident Mara asserted herself. After her father died in a car crash, James first manifested himself.
Despite all of this, Sarah remained high functioning, and was able to find a job as a psychiatrist, again only stepping up at work. She actually has heard the pitches from both the Group and the government, and is in favor of rejecting both. However, the power she ceded to Mara, as well as being outnumbered by the two of them, have only caused her main personality to recede even further into the background. She only shows during the group therapy sessions, and even then, will defer to [whoever the main therapist is....].
Sarah slouches, but pays attention. She will notice things that no one else can, or will, a tremendous aid to her counseling the group.
James Hannah - Team Rookie
James shows up the least, but is attempting to take over. The biggest reason Mara is participating is because James has been talking to her in her dreams, convincing her that this terrorist threat Jack and Delia were talking about is true. Otherwise, she would have gone to the government and joined them.
James, peculiarly, is the only one of the three personalities that manifests a power. He is able to generate static electricity and discharge it at point blank range. This leads to a lot of hit and run, as well as keeping him away from sensitive electronics. However, this also gives him a great deal of power when dealing with targeted electronics.
He is superficially quite friendly, and inwardly conniving. Given that he is trapped in a woman's body, this makes him something of a lesbian. He wants to be the dominant one, in sole control, and to be rid of the constant annoyances in his head. James walks with a male swagger, though the hips get in the way of him swinging his arms.
Mara is the current dominant personality. She initially manifested in Sarah's late teens, and easily becomes everything Sarah wishes she were, strong, confident, a leader, doing everything effortlessly. Mara is nothing less, and nothing more, than a leader of people. It doesn't matter that she herself has no powers. More than anything, such an assorted assemblage of madmen and madwomen must have someone that can control them.
Despite her current dominance, Mara's current fear is that she will drop away and either Sarah or James will manifest at exactly the wrong time. This seed of fear has started to take root, and it is forcing them into the limelight, especially James. One of the issues is that James is causing Mara self-doubt while they talk in their dreams.
Mara walks tall and proud, her head high, and able to see everything going on. She believes that any problem can be solved, given enough time and resources.
Sarah Parker - Junior Therapist
Sarah is the peacemaker, both within the team and within her head. She was the first, but has since "stepped aside" in deference to Mara. Raised by a mother that always found fault, and always demanded outward perfection (she was a trophy wife constantly fearing losing her looks, and thus, her husband), Sarah started vomiting to keep a thin frame at the age of eleven. This combined with having to be perfect everywhere caused her so much stress, Mara manifested initially in her late teens. She was able to keep Mara hidden for a few days, but eventually was discovered.
As time went on, and the stress of always having to excel grew, Sarah started to crack. She started to retreat within herself, exerting dominance only in her psychology classes, and to study. Everywhere else, strong, confident Mara asserted herself. After her father died in a car crash, James first manifested himself.
Despite all of this, Sarah remained high functioning, and was able to find a job as a psychiatrist, again only stepping up at work. She actually has heard the pitches from both the Group and the government, and is in favor of rejecting both. However, the power she ceded to Mara, as well as being outnumbered by the two of them, have only caused her main personality to recede even further into the background. She only shows during the group therapy sessions, and even then, will defer to [whoever the main therapist is....].
Sarah slouches, but pays attention. She will notice things that no one else can, or will, a tremendous aid to her counseling the group.
James Hannah - Team Rookie
James shows up the least, but is attempting to take over. The biggest reason Mara is participating is because James has been talking to her in her dreams, convincing her that this terrorist threat Jack and Delia were talking about is true. Otherwise, she would have gone to the government and joined them.
James, peculiarly, is the only one of the three personalities that manifests a power. He is able to generate static electricity and discharge it at point blank range. This leads to a lot of hit and run, as well as keeping him away from sensitive electronics. However, this also gives him a great deal of power when dealing with targeted electronics.
He is superficially quite friendly, and inwardly conniving. Given that he is trapped in a woman's body, this makes him something of a lesbian. He wants to be the dominant one, in sole control, and to be rid of the constant annoyances in his head. James walks with a male swagger, though the hips get in the way of him swinging his arms.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Character Sketch -The Group
To do:
FOREMOST: We know that the Group told the Team Captain there was something big, something more believable than an alien invasion. I need to ponder what would be the key. The obvious things, such as terrorism, may have to be it, because you don't actually "win" against the concept of terrorism.
The Group's true aim is quite simple. All they need to do is take all of these unfocused, undisciplined individuals, and aim them at a common goal. If this is done, then they will be too busy to fight amongst each other, causing further strife and chaos in a universe saturated with it. This is nothing more than a game, and a means of controlling these men and women. The genius is that they're getting them to buy in, so that there's no resistance.
There's more to be done, but I need to think more about it. This was just to get a couple more ideas down.
A thought for "super-depressed girl": She carries her sorrow like a bucket filled to the brim with water. Both hands struggling to keep it off the ground, she stumbles slowly along, sloshing out the sadness here and there, but never letting it all truly cascade out. Somewhere, she knows that if she were to let it all spill out, it would cause a mess, but at the same time, she doesn't want to cause that mess, and inconvenience everyone. Thus, she continues to carry, and wait for someone to relieve her of this burden that most people aren't even sure is a burden.
A thought for going now here fast: trust your words. They'll take you far.
Who recruited the Team Captain to the Group?
The most effective way to run a covert group, in my estimation, is to make sure it has no head, no central influence. That's really not possible, so we need to have a small cabal leading this decentralized organization, dedicated, devoted, obsessed with this power.
Delia and Jack Morrison are fraternal twins, raised in a normal environment by, shall we say, progressive parents. Their words were those, not necessarily of fear mongering, but more of expecting the worst. Staunch vegetarians, PETA supporters, members of Greenpeace, living off the grid, ready to believe in a world free of pain and suffering, Jack and Delia were raised to value all life, and to protect it at all costs. They would pray before dinner to some unlabeled energy in the sky, that helped create the plants they would soon consume. Once upon a time, the family would be called hippies. That time is now.
As they got older, and their parents started taking them on the missions, Delia and Jack started to truly believe, accepting what their parents said. However, growing up in such a homogenized environment, and being told that the worst was happening around them, started to screw with their minds. Not in a way that would drive them insane, but still enough to fundamentally set their view of the world.
Now and again, they would learn about history, and how catastrophe after catastrophe kept setting back society. After a point, they took it on themselves to try to prevent the next catastrophe. After all, with the advent of newer, better killing technologies, what could you expect but death and destruction? With the lessons they learned, they formed The Group, starting with several of the Greenpeacers and PETA members that felt those organizations didn't go far enough.
The Group is nominally headed by unpowered twins, Delia and Jack Morrison. Beyond that, they have a very flat organizational structure. Everyone else is in a tier below them, and each group is trained to operate either on its own, or as part of a group. The group is organized in cells of ten, and up to fifteen groups can operate in sync. This leads to the rough maximum of 150, the maximum number of people that a person can deal with and view as an actual human.
Until now, all of these groups were of normal humans, homo sapiens. The Group's original goal was to prepare for an inevitable destruction of the world's infrastructure due to an apocalyptic scenario, whether thermonuclear war, alien invasion, terrorism, anything. A simple, generic goal. As such, the Group is trained to deal with a multitude of threats, stockpiling, training, waiting.
The discovery of these powered individuals has changed everything. No longer content to wait for the oncoming pain and suffering, they are now taking a more active role. Delia and Jack view these powers, perhaps rightfully so, as the key to destroying the world. Thus, if they can control it, they can stave off armageddon for a little while longer.
Jack and Delia aren't necessarily well connected themselves, but there are members of The Group that are well connected. Some of these are deeply entrenched with the U.S. government, and alerted them to the presence of these new powered individuals. They've taken this information, and gone on a race against the government to find them as quickly as possible. The "strange news" sections of the internet are key to the search, and it's just a matter of who gets to whom first, and who speaks more convincingly. Let's be honest, these people are all quite imbalanced, and all they need is a kind word, a smile and a hug to feel accepted, which is what many of them want.
While the government focuses on browbeating, appeals to patriotism, and threats to friends and family, Delia and Jack focus more on convincing these people there's a mighty threat, without adding that the powers are the threat themselves. They've gathered some data, and realize that the pathological liar could be key to recruiting, if only they can find a way to get him. What they need is a person that he cannot lie to. Hence, the multiple personalities.
FOREMOST: We know that the Group told the Team Captain there was something big, something more believable than an alien invasion. I need to ponder what would be the key. The obvious things, such as terrorism, may have to be it, because you don't actually "win" against the concept of terrorism.
The Group's true aim is quite simple. All they need to do is take all of these unfocused, undisciplined individuals, and aim them at a common goal. If this is done, then they will be too busy to fight amongst each other, causing further strife and chaos in a universe saturated with it. This is nothing more than a game, and a means of controlling these men and women. The genius is that they're getting them to buy in, so that there's no resistance.
There's more to be done, but I need to think more about it. This was just to get a couple more ideas down.
A thought for "super-depressed girl": She carries her sorrow like a bucket filled to the brim with water. Both hands struggling to keep it off the ground, she stumbles slowly along, sloshing out the sadness here and there, but never letting it all truly cascade out. Somewhere, she knows that if she were to let it all spill out, it would cause a mess, but at the same time, she doesn't want to cause that mess, and inconvenience everyone. Thus, she continues to carry, and wait for someone to relieve her of this burden that most people aren't even sure is a burden.
A thought for going now here fast: trust your words. They'll take you far.
Who recruited the Team Captain to the Group?
The most effective way to run a covert group, in my estimation, is to make sure it has no head, no central influence. That's really not possible, so we need to have a small cabal leading this decentralized organization, dedicated, devoted, obsessed with this power.
Delia and Jack Morrison are fraternal twins, raised in a normal environment by, shall we say, progressive parents. Their words were those, not necessarily of fear mongering, but more of expecting the worst. Staunch vegetarians, PETA supporters, members of Greenpeace, living off the grid, ready to believe in a world free of pain and suffering, Jack and Delia were raised to value all life, and to protect it at all costs. They would pray before dinner to some unlabeled energy in the sky, that helped create the plants they would soon consume. Once upon a time, the family would be called hippies. That time is now.
As they got older, and their parents started taking them on the missions, Delia and Jack started to truly believe, accepting what their parents said. However, growing up in such a homogenized environment, and being told that the worst was happening around them, started to screw with their minds. Not in a way that would drive them insane, but still enough to fundamentally set their view of the world.
Now and again, they would learn about history, and how catastrophe after catastrophe kept setting back society. After a point, they took it on themselves to try to prevent the next catastrophe. After all, with the advent of newer, better killing technologies, what could you expect but death and destruction? With the lessons they learned, they formed The Group, starting with several of the Greenpeacers and PETA members that felt those organizations didn't go far enough.
The Group is nominally headed by unpowered twins, Delia and Jack Morrison. Beyond that, they have a very flat organizational structure. Everyone else is in a tier below them, and each group is trained to operate either on its own, or as part of a group. The group is organized in cells of ten, and up to fifteen groups can operate in sync. This leads to the rough maximum of 150, the maximum number of people that a person can deal with and view as an actual human.
Until now, all of these groups were of normal humans, homo sapiens. The Group's original goal was to prepare for an inevitable destruction of the world's infrastructure due to an apocalyptic scenario, whether thermonuclear war, alien invasion, terrorism, anything. A simple, generic goal. As such, the Group is trained to deal with a multitude of threats, stockpiling, training, waiting.
The discovery of these powered individuals has changed everything. No longer content to wait for the oncoming pain and suffering, they are now taking a more active role. Delia and Jack view these powers, perhaps rightfully so, as the key to destroying the world. Thus, if they can control it, they can stave off armageddon for a little while longer.
Jack and Delia aren't necessarily well connected themselves, but there are members of The Group that are well connected. Some of these are deeply entrenched with the U.S. government, and alerted them to the presence of these new powered individuals. They've taken this information, and gone on a race against the government to find them as quickly as possible. The "strange news" sections of the internet are key to the search, and it's just a matter of who gets to whom first, and who speaks more convincingly. Let's be honest, these people are all quite imbalanced, and all they need is a kind word, a smile and a hug to feel accepted, which is what many of them want.
While the government focuses on browbeating, appeals to patriotism, and threats to friends and family, Delia and Jack focus more on convincing these people there's a mighty threat, without adding that the powers are the threat themselves. They've gathered some data, and realize that the pathological liar could be key to recruiting, if only they can find a way to get him. What they need is a person that he cannot lie to. Hence, the multiple personalities.
Character Sketch - Pathological Liar
Born to middle-class circumstances, Elvin Harper grew up in the 'burbs. His life was comfortable, even if he may have wanted for things he could never get. Elvin and his sister, Lea, got along fine, and though they may have fought, they learned to get along. He was an average student, an average friend; in short, an average person. All his life, Elvin hoped his life was nothing more than a lie. He just wanted more, and wasn't sure how to get it.
One day, he stole a candy bar, Hershey's finest. A small thing, but when his mother confronted him, two things happened. First, he shook his head and denied it, stating he'd been saving his allowance. Second, he heard her thoughts: "I know I raised you better than that."
Elvin kept it up for a couple of years. Cautious to take too much, he would walk in a convenience store, and walk after someone a little seedier than him. He would wait until the shopkeep's thoughts gravitated towards the other person, then pocketed something small. Then, he'd keep on walking for a few minutes, sure to leave before the other person did. Elvin mapped out a series of stores which he would haunt, making sure never to hit one twice in a row.
The suspicions grew stronger, but he was able to deflect them, especially his sister. Oh, so slow, Lea. What tripped him up, eventually, was puberty. Caught up in exploring his sexuality, he didn't realize that masturbation shut down his thought processes. So it was, in the bathroom, a stolen porn magazine nearby, his pants around his ankles, Lea barged in. It was pretty hard to find a way around this, and despite his best fabrications, he was somewhat lost, being unable to read their expressions, having relied so long on their thoughts, caught in the afterglow.
He was grounded for two weeks, and thereafter forced to work for free at the store for a year. That entire year, as he mopped, Elvin would scowl at the world, hearing the mindless rumble of the shopkeep, some old fat man that he couldn't care less about.
For her part, Lea tried to fix their relationship, but Elvin held a grudge. After the year was up, he continued working at the store, accumulating a little money, grinding a metaphorical whetstone, listening, listening, listening. He'd long since abstained from sexual pleasure, to keep his mind sharp.
Then, he realized, as he was hearing some old biddy's mental gossip about her young stud, as an elderly man came in, and they walked out arm in arm, that he would have his revenge. Elvin started working his tail off, i.e. cheating via the consensus of the entire class, all their minds coming up with answers. He found a way to get an internship at the state capital. Mysteriously, Elvin rose quickly through the ranks, a most nondescript aide, who seemed to know everything about everyone. During his senior year, a lobbyist found a way to gift to him, not his family, but him, a house of his own, which he moved into. Anything he wanted, he knew someone that knew someone that could give it to him. This unusual activity brought him to the attention of the Group.
The Group recruited Elvin Harper with a story so preposterous, only a pathological liar could believe it. As a matter of fact, the [Group Team Captain - Multiple Personalities - Team Captain personality] gave him a story that he believed completely, that he was working from: alien invasion. Elvin had never met anyone that could lie to him, and it never occurred to him that someone lied to [Team Captain personality]. He'd had most of what he wanted, but now, [Team Captain personality] wove a story which described just how Elvin could, and would, lose everything. Even a liar has to believe someone once in a while, and who else could tell he could read minds? He signed on, and disappeared.
El is in his late teens, and going prematurely bald, a side effect of both the mind reading and the stress of keeping these stories. He tends to dress discreetly, save for an expensive watch and high-quality shoes, two things that will demonstrate just how powerful he is, without making a big deal of it. His teeth are crooked, which makes his smile more a leer. If not for his teeth, he would be quite attractive. Average height, average weight, average everything. El is confident, to the point of excess, though not entirely persuasive (outright offensive at times). Everything for him is about the words, but he tends to put people off. If their thoughts do not mesh with their body language, and he reads them orrectly, they are thrown off. El eats saltpeter (and is there a drug with the side effect to lower sexual desire, not female birth control? Would it be better to show him start to take the pill, and watch him develop female secondary sex characteristics, and throw people off even more?) to suppress his sexual desires, with various effects.
One day, he stole a candy bar, Hershey's finest. A small thing, but when his mother confronted him, two things happened. First, he shook his head and denied it, stating he'd been saving his allowance. Second, he heard her thoughts: "I know I raised you better than that."
Elvin kept it up for a couple of years. Cautious to take too much, he would walk in a convenience store, and walk after someone a little seedier than him. He would wait until the shopkeep's thoughts gravitated towards the other person, then pocketed something small. Then, he'd keep on walking for a few minutes, sure to leave before the other person did. Elvin mapped out a series of stores which he would haunt, making sure never to hit one twice in a row.
The suspicions grew stronger, but he was able to deflect them, especially his sister. Oh, so slow, Lea. What tripped him up, eventually, was puberty. Caught up in exploring his sexuality, he didn't realize that masturbation shut down his thought processes. So it was, in the bathroom, a stolen porn magazine nearby, his pants around his ankles, Lea barged in. It was pretty hard to find a way around this, and despite his best fabrications, he was somewhat lost, being unable to read their expressions, having relied so long on their thoughts, caught in the afterglow.
He was grounded for two weeks, and thereafter forced to work for free at the store for a year. That entire year, as he mopped, Elvin would scowl at the world, hearing the mindless rumble of the shopkeep, some old fat man that he couldn't care less about.
For her part, Lea tried to fix their relationship, but Elvin held a grudge. After the year was up, he continued working at the store, accumulating a little money, grinding a metaphorical whetstone, listening, listening, listening. He'd long since abstained from sexual pleasure, to keep his mind sharp.
Then, he realized, as he was hearing some old biddy's mental gossip about her young stud, as an elderly man came in, and they walked out arm in arm, that he would have his revenge. Elvin started working his tail off, i.e. cheating via the consensus of the entire class, all their minds coming up with answers. He found a way to get an internship at the state capital. Mysteriously, Elvin rose quickly through the ranks, a most nondescript aide, who seemed to know everything about everyone. During his senior year, a lobbyist found a way to gift to him, not his family, but him, a house of his own, which he moved into. Anything he wanted, he knew someone that knew someone that could give it to him. This unusual activity brought him to the attention of the Group.
The Group recruited Elvin Harper with a story so preposterous, only a pathological liar could believe it. As a matter of fact, the [Group Team Captain - Multiple Personalities - Team Captain personality] gave him a story that he believed completely, that he was working from: alien invasion. Elvin had never met anyone that could lie to him, and it never occurred to him that someone lied to [Team Captain personality]. He'd had most of what he wanted, but now, [Team Captain personality] wove a story which described just how Elvin could, and would, lose everything. Even a liar has to believe someone once in a while, and who else could tell he could read minds? He signed on, and disappeared.
El is in his late teens, and going prematurely bald, a side effect of both the mind reading and the stress of keeping these stories. He tends to dress discreetly, save for an expensive watch and high-quality shoes, two things that will demonstrate just how powerful he is, without making a big deal of it. His teeth are crooked, which makes his smile more a leer. If not for his teeth, he would be quite attractive. Average height, average weight, average everything. El is confident, to the point of excess, though not entirely persuasive (outright offensive at times). Everything for him is about the words, but he tends to put people off. If their thoughts do not mesh with their body language, and he reads them orrectly, they are thrown off. El eats saltpeter (and is there a drug with the side effect to lower sexual desire, not female birth control? Would it be better to show him start to take the pill, and watch him develop female secondary sex characteristics, and throw people off even more?) to suppress his sexual desires, with various effects.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Character Sketch - Delerium Tremens
Daisy Tennant wasn't a mistake; children never are. It just happened that her parents, Mitch and Jill, did. Jill was a sophomore in high school, and Mitch was ready to go off to a D-II school on a football scholarship, when Jill confronted him. She pleaded, begged, implored him to stay with her, or to at least show some support. Mitch, ever the thoughtful individual, did his best not to roll his eyes before walking out on her and starting his new life alone.
Initially, Jill planned to bring the baby to term, then give it up for adoption (old religious habits die hard). Then, she held the child in her hands, small, wrinkled, two weeks premature, and was hooked. The desire to take care of a completely dependent being overrode her desire to be her own person. This desire lasted about six weeks, at which point abortion is completely illegal.
Her mother kicked the both of them out, but Jill managed to stay with her uncle, meanwhile getting a job at a local restaurant (The Pit, a fine barbecue establishment, now with the Pit Plate Special for $8.95). Given that her uncle was a worthless layabout, and a drunk, it was only a matter of time before Jill started to turn to the bottle, just as Daisy would turn towards the nipple.
The turning point was the year she would have graduated from high school and gone to some fine liberal arts college on a partial scholarship, when Mitch returned to Franklin, Tennessee. He came with a girl on his arm, to The Pit. His eyes on the blonde the entire time, Mitch didn't even recognize Jill, and Jill did her best to not say anything, as she waited on her tables, and tried to keep out of his way. She went to the back, looked in the mirror, and saw how she'd aged five, ten years.
As Daisy grew, so did the abuse. Her mom drank more and more as the looks and youth that one day would have taken her so far were stolen from her, given to this squalling youth that wouldn't shut up, no matter how many times she hit her. The uncle had passed from a failed liver a long time ago, perhaps the only source of stability that would have made her life a little better; she didn't even know about grandma, and grandma didn't care to acknowledge her family a few miles away.
Daisy's first drink happened at twelve, after a particularly brutal beating. It felt like mom had broken a rib. She had trouble breathing, but feared even more calling the authorities and getting taken away from her mom. There were a lot of Jack Daniels bottles with a fair amount of swig left. Daisy just picked one up and drank, then another, and another. She woke up in the morning, still in tremendous pain, but the key was that she could dull the pain enough to sleep, and wake up in the morning.
The beating continued, as Jill saw more and more of her father in that face. Both mother and daughter continued to drink. School had fallen by the wayside long ago, as had what few friends she'd fought to make. Now it was them, the TV, and the bottle. Then, Jill lost her job for cursing at and punching a patron that left her a small tip. The alcohol dried up soon thereafter, but the beatings didn't. Unable to deal with the stress of being a sixteen-year old, going through withdrawal, and these being "the best years of her life," Jill started shaking. Soon, the entire house shook, and it brought the entire thing down upon the two of them. When they found her, Daisy had been shivering, curled up, but alive. Jill fell atop the child she still loved, somewhere deep within, but couldn't express that feeling in a loving manner. Soon after, they brought Daisy to the Group.
Daisy has shoulder-length raven-black hair, same as her father; she used to have much longer hair, until she vomited and rolled into it a couple of months ago. It's growing back out. She's skinny from worry, skinny enough to see the abnormal protrusion on her rib cage where the rib never healed, if she would ever let anyone get close enough to take a look. Daisy is above average height for a woman, but slouches her shoulders constantly, awaiting the next blow she can't predict. She smiles around cats, and is in love with them, just as strays love her. Daisy's face is fairly gaunt, beautiful when she smiles, ugly when she's dour. Note this does nothing for her self-esteem.
Initially, Jill planned to bring the baby to term, then give it up for adoption (old religious habits die hard). Then, she held the child in her hands, small, wrinkled, two weeks premature, and was hooked. The desire to take care of a completely dependent being overrode her desire to be her own person. This desire lasted about six weeks, at which point abortion is completely illegal.
Her mother kicked the both of them out, but Jill managed to stay with her uncle, meanwhile getting a job at a local restaurant (The Pit, a fine barbecue establishment, now with the Pit Plate Special for $8.95). Given that her uncle was a worthless layabout, and a drunk, it was only a matter of time before Jill started to turn to the bottle, just as Daisy would turn towards the nipple.
The turning point was the year she would have graduated from high school and gone to some fine liberal arts college on a partial scholarship, when Mitch returned to Franklin, Tennessee. He came with a girl on his arm, to The Pit. His eyes on the blonde the entire time, Mitch didn't even recognize Jill, and Jill did her best to not say anything, as she waited on her tables, and tried to keep out of his way. She went to the back, looked in the mirror, and saw how she'd aged five, ten years.
As Daisy grew, so did the abuse. Her mom drank more and more as the looks and youth that one day would have taken her so far were stolen from her, given to this squalling youth that wouldn't shut up, no matter how many times she hit her. The uncle had passed from a failed liver a long time ago, perhaps the only source of stability that would have made her life a little better; she didn't even know about grandma, and grandma didn't care to acknowledge her family a few miles away.
Daisy's first drink happened at twelve, after a particularly brutal beating. It felt like mom had broken a rib. She had trouble breathing, but feared even more calling the authorities and getting taken away from her mom. There were a lot of Jack Daniels bottles with a fair amount of swig left. Daisy just picked one up and drank, then another, and another. She woke up in the morning, still in tremendous pain, but the key was that she could dull the pain enough to sleep, and wake up in the morning.
The beating continued, as Jill saw more and more of her father in that face. Both mother and daughter continued to drink. School had fallen by the wayside long ago, as had what few friends she'd fought to make. Now it was them, the TV, and the bottle. Then, Jill lost her job for cursing at and punching a patron that left her a small tip. The alcohol dried up soon thereafter, but the beatings didn't. Unable to deal with the stress of being a sixteen-year old, going through withdrawal, and these being "the best years of her life," Jill started shaking. Soon, the entire house shook, and it brought the entire thing down upon the two of them. When they found her, Daisy had been shivering, curled up, but alive. Jill fell atop the child she still loved, somewhere deep within, but couldn't express that feeling in a loving manner. Soon after, they brought Daisy to the Group.
Daisy has shoulder-length raven-black hair, same as her father; she used to have much longer hair, until she vomited and rolled into it a couple of months ago. It's growing back out. She's skinny from worry, skinny enough to see the abnormal protrusion on her rib cage where the rib never healed, if she would ever let anyone get close enough to take a look. Daisy is above average height for a woman, but slouches her shoulders constantly, awaiting the next blow she can't predict. She smiles around cats, and is in love with them, just as strays love her. Daisy's face is fairly gaunt, beautiful when she smiles, ugly when she's dour. Note this does nothing for her self-esteem.
Time Travel
Fuck time travel. We are not using going forward or backward in time, in any fashion. (Well, I have no problem with the natural forward progression, and flashbacks, and any other exceptions).z It's too often a crutch/reset button. I have no problem with altering the flow of time (gotta check the notes because we have someone that does that), but I cannot accept "Oops they killed the most popular character, let's bring them back to life by going back in time and making different decisions." Bullshit. We don't get to go back and make different decisions without repercussions. You want to do something different, go get revenge, or wipe your memory clean and forget.
Character Sketch - Amnesiac
Jason C. McMicheals had lived a pretty average life before his memories were taken away from him. He was a successful psychologist before the incident. He primarily dealt with children dealing with traumatic experiences. Even before the incident, he was able to alter the memories of his patients, essentially making them forget the trauma that these patients suffered. In his mind, this helped his patients, letting go of the past so that they could learn to lead healthy, productive lives.
Apparently, this was not beneficial for one of the Dr. McMicheal's patients. Due to a lack of a memory of the trauma, his young patient fell again into a cycle of abuse that brought him to Dr. McMicheal's in the first place. This patient, Anderson Joyce, was kidnapped at a young age along with his toddler brother. While in the kidnapper's hands, a choice was given to Anderson - would he chooose to save his brother life while sacrificing his own, or allow the kidnapper to murder his younger brother. Anderson chose the former, and watched the kidnapper savage molest and then kill his brother. Before any further harm could be done to him, the police managed to save Joyce where he was put under McMicheal's care. McMicheal then used his powers to alter the memories of Anderson, making him forget the incident. McMicheal advised Anderson's parents to destroy any memory of Anerderson's younger brother from the household, so that he may have a chance to have a normal life.
Unfortunately, a few years later, Anderson found some old family pictures while rummaging through family photos. Unable to remember the young boy by his side, he confronted his parents of the identity of the boy. His parents, thinking that he was well, confessed the doings of McMicheal's and revealed what had happened to Anderson. Anderson, who had been shouldering guilt all these years, but inexplicably not knowing why, flew into a rage. He began to obsessively search for past evidence on the case, and devised a plan to seek revenge on McMicheal.
Anderson then snuck into McMicheal's house bound his daughter and wife. As soon as McMicheal entered the establishment, Anderson presented him a choice- his wife's life or his daughters. McMicheal pleaded for Anderson to take his own life, but Anderson stated that his death would simply not just; McMicheal would have to have the memories that Anderson was robbed of. Unwilling to choose, Anderson took the choice from McMicheal and shot his daughter in front of McMicheal. Anderson then moved McMicheal and his wife to the scene of the kidnapping that had taken place years earlier. There, Anderson place a gun to his head and asked McMicheal one last question: would he sacrifice his life or his wife's. Anderson answered his wife's. Anderson obliged and shot his wife. He then whispered in Jason's ear, "now you will remember my memories," where then Anderson shot Jason in the stomach and left him to bleed to death.
McMicheal, unable to bear the guilt of his choice, choose to use his power to erase his own memories to at least die with a clean conscience. He then awoke, bleeding from the gut, absolved of a lifetime of memories but haunting by the now lifeless women that laid on the ground, unable to recognize her. He managed to undue his binds and make it to the street, where he was found a taken to the hospital. Without any memory or identification, he was labeled a John Doe.
He is tortured by the memories he keeps. Although his memory is wiped, he is still guilt ridden by his past, although he cannot explain why. At first, he became like a leech, stealing people's memories in order feel the void for his own. But he grew more and more frustrated as he realized that none of these stolen memories were his own or would explain his past. He then tried to steal the identity of people, live their lives. This fraudulent activity eventually caught the eyes of the authorities, which in turn the Group was notified of paranormal activity. He was eventually detained and imprisoned.
Apparently, this was not beneficial for one of the Dr. McMicheal's patients. Due to a lack of a memory of the trauma, his young patient fell again into a cycle of abuse that brought him to Dr. McMicheal's in the first place. This patient, Anderson Joyce, was kidnapped at a young age along with his toddler brother. While in the kidnapper's hands, a choice was given to Anderson - would he chooose to save his brother life while sacrificing his own, or allow the kidnapper to murder his younger brother. Anderson chose the former, and watched the kidnapper savage molest and then kill his brother. Before any further harm could be done to him, the police managed to save Joyce where he was put under McMicheal's care. McMicheal then used his powers to alter the memories of Anderson, making him forget the incident. McMicheal advised Anderson's parents to destroy any memory of Anerderson's younger brother from the household, so that he may have a chance to have a normal life.
Unfortunately, a few years later, Anderson found some old family pictures while rummaging through family photos. Unable to remember the young boy by his side, he confronted his parents of the identity of the boy. His parents, thinking that he was well, confessed the doings of McMicheal's and revealed what had happened to Anderson. Anderson, who had been shouldering guilt all these years, but inexplicably not knowing why, flew into a rage. He began to obsessively search for past evidence on the case, and devised a plan to seek revenge on McMicheal.
Anderson then snuck into McMicheal's house bound his daughter and wife. As soon as McMicheal entered the establishment, Anderson presented him a choice- his wife's life or his daughters. McMicheal pleaded for Anderson to take his own life, but Anderson stated that his death would simply not just; McMicheal would have to have the memories that Anderson was robbed of. Unwilling to choose, Anderson took the choice from McMicheal and shot his daughter in front of McMicheal. Anderson then moved McMicheal and his wife to the scene of the kidnapping that had taken place years earlier. There, Anderson place a gun to his head and asked McMicheal one last question: would he sacrifice his life or his wife's. Anderson answered his wife's. Anderson obliged and shot his wife. He then whispered in Jason's ear, "now you will remember my memories," where then Anderson shot Jason in the stomach and left him to bleed to death.
McMicheal, unable to bear the guilt of his choice, choose to use his power to erase his own memories to at least die with a clean conscience. He then awoke, bleeding from the gut, absolved of a lifetime of memories but haunting by the now lifeless women that laid on the ground, unable to recognize her. He managed to undue his binds and make it to the street, where he was found a taken to the hospital. Without any memory or identification, he was labeled a John Doe.
He is tortured by the memories he keeps. Although his memory is wiped, he is still guilt ridden by his past, although he cannot explain why. At first, he became like a leech, stealing people's memories in order feel the void for his own. But he grew more and more frustrated as he realized that none of these stolen memories were his own or would explain his past. He then tried to steal the identity of people, live their lives. This fraudulent activity eventually caught the eyes of the authorities, which in turn the Group was notified of paranormal activity. He was eventually detained and imprisoned.
Character Sketch - Paranoid Delusions/Delusion Projection
The key is that he does not know what is real and what is not, and has recently taken to believing that he is the only real thing. In essence, he is the sole deity of his own universe, and is thus, the most important person in that universe. Thus, he also believes himself the most important person, as if he dies, his world dies with him. The man knows that the delusions sometimes fight back, but thinks of it as just himself, or can't really understand what's going on.
Son of a biologist/atheist, strong proponent for evolution. He was taught to always question, to never take for granted things. Given that he was raised with a strong anti-religion slant, that he's now starting to feel like a god is causing a deep rift within himself, as the person he was and the person he is becoming are in constant struggle. He's not sure when it first started manifesting, because he's not entirely in belief that much of the world he lives in is unreal. Nonetheless, his ability to perceive is still quite impressive, as he'll note some small detail and be able to extrapolate from it. Unfortunately, much of his perceptions are of things not really there.
Somewhat withdrawn and constantly on guard, there are few things he trusts. Strong sources of light and dark, he is drawn to, because he knows for sure, for sure, these are things that he won't dream up (he is wrong). He also likes eating, another thing that can reveal whether or not something is real. Eating a delusion will just result in him eating nothing. The man has become very overweight due to this. He cannot stand this, and is only going along with the group because of the proposed cure. Of course, he's not entirely sure if this cure even exists, and feels they may just be using him, as everyone else is. Then again, this is a chance he's got to take, even if it turns out to justify his constant fear that it's not all delusions, and that it's all real.
The only person he trusts, Sheila, is his long-time partner, but not wife, as he refuses to get married and open himself up. Sheila knows him better than he knows himself. She'll go away after they fight, which is fairly often, but will always return after a few days. He's come to grips with the cooling off period, and is OK with that. She's his only friend, only confidant, and just another piece of his imagination. His belief in Sheila is unshakable, until she disappears before his eyes if/when he takes the drug.
Son of a biologist/atheist, strong proponent for evolution. He was taught to always question, to never take for granted things. Given that he was raised with a strong anti-religion slant, that he's now starting to feel like a god is causing a deep rift within himself, as the person he was and the person he is becoming are in constant struggle. He's not sure when it first started manifesting, because he's not entirely in belief that much of the world he lives in is unreal. Nonetheless, his ability to perceive is still quite impressive, as he'll note some small detail and be able to extrapolate from it. Unfortunately, much of his perceptions are of things not really there.
Somewhat withdrawn and constantly on guard, there are few things he trusts. Strong sources of light and dark, he is drawn to, because he knows for sure, for sure, these are things that he won't dream up (he is wrong). He also likes eating, another thing that can reveal whether or not something is real. Eating a delusion will just result in him eating nothing. The man has become very overweight due to this. He cannot stand this, and is only going along with the group because of the proposed cure. Of course, he's not entirely sure if this cure even exists, and feels they may just be using him, as everyone else is. Then again, this is a chance he's got to take, even if it turns out to justify his constant fear that it's not all delusions, and that it's all real.
The only person he trusts, Sheila, is his long-time partner, but not wife, as he refuses to get married and open himself up. Sheila knows him better than he knows himself. She'll go away after they fight, which is fairly often, but will always return after a few days. He's come to grips with the cooling off period, and is OK with that. She's his only friend, only confidant, and just another piece of his imagination. His belief in Sheila is unshakable, until she disappears before his eyes if/when he takes the drug.
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