Post by Anton Markovic on Jul 8, 2011 3:39:31 GMT -5
Name: Anton Markovic
Age: 37
Date of Birth: February 19
Team Favorite Color: RED
Class:Spy
Gender: Male
Languages: English, Functional in French, bits of Russian
Personality: Anton is a quiet man. He’s never spoken much, and the damage to his vocal chords has only increased that tendency to the point where he is effectively mute. He’d rather stand back and listen from a distance than attempt to interact with others, and if he is dragged into a conversation, the most you will probably get out of him some vague body language and maybe a word or two. But one cannot mistake his aloofness for shyness or a dislike of people, indeed he much prefers the company of others to solitude, and will actively search out the presence of others. He deeply believes in the power that being in a group brings, and always puts the team before the individual. He is very loyal and will follow the orders of higher-ups without question, almost to the point of no reason, and would die before betraying his team. He is devoted to his job and will always do his best for the team, though it may not always look like it. That does not mean that he respects or trusts the other members though, he believes things like that are supposed to be earned over time, and will not give them unless he believes it’s truly deserved. He is detached and anti-social, but when push comes to shove you can always count on him to do his best for the team.
Sexuality: I don’t know, he doesn’t really know, probably straight.
History: Born in Liverpool to a single mom during a time of decline, his life had never been a fortunate one. He spent more time on the streets than he did at home or at school and fell into bad company early in life, getting involved in the local gang. Dropped out of high school and left home, loosing contact with his mom, and starting to slowly advance his position in the gang. It was also around this point where he developed a heroin addiction. He moved up in the gang hierarchy to become one of the leader’s more trusted men, taking on more serious jobs, such as collection, kidnapping and, eventually, hits. One day though, a hit took an unfortunate turn and he ended up fleeing to the U.S. to avoid capture. He had to lay low for a couple years, and just as he was starting to re-establish himself, he was diagnosed with Laryngeal cancer, which took him out of the game pretty quick. He had to undergo surgery and chemo. In the few weeks before the treatment, he had to quit the heroin and went through a massive and agonizing, but effective detox, and has been off the heroin ever since(though he still smokes). The cost of the treatment, his addiction and his lack of work pretty much dried up his funds over that time, so when the job as a mercenary came up, he took it without a second thought.
Appearance:
Hair Colour: Brown(when it's there)
Eye Colour: Green
Height: 6’1”(185cm)
Weight: 138 lbs(62.5 Kg)
Anton is not a healthy looking guy. He is thin to the point of looking sickly, with sunken eyes and a thin, gaunt face. His skin is pale, almost pasty, which is a mix of genetics, personal choice, and the fact he’s still recovering from his treatment. His eyes are a pale, poisonous looking green and are seemingly fixed in a dispassionate half-glare, which he will direct at anything and anyone that crosses his path. If you happen to see him, without his mask on (which is extremely rare), you will notice the he is completely bald. His hair has only started growing back and he just shaves off whatever does grow for simplicity. Another thing about his head that’s hard to miss is the two very large tattoos covering both sides of his head. One is of a kraken, and the other a phoenix. Both are gang related, but he won’t talk about them. He also has a very prominent scar on his neck from the surgery, as well as track marks on his arms. In terms of attire, for formal meetings he will wear the full suit, but does not like it, and will change out as soon as possible(keeping the mask on, of course), preferring to wear a simple t-shirt and jeans. In battle, he will wear most of the suit, but usually leaves the jacket and dress shoes, rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt and pulling on a pair of old trainers.
Image: I don't have a full-body image yet, but in the meantime, have this: i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m628/SuperSquidGirl/Spy-Head.jpg
And a pic of both tattoos: i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m628/SuperSquidGirl/Spy-tatto0s.jpg
Roleplay Examples
3rd Person: The lock slides open with a satisfying thunk. Extracting them from the mechanism, Anton hastily puts the picks back in their case and tucks them in his inside pocket for later use. After taking a quick glance through the door to make sure there was no-one waiting on the other side, he slips in and quietly jogs down the hallway. The sounds of battle reach his ears, explosions and gunfire sounding closer and closer. He needs to get this done fast. After a few twists and turns, he pauses at a corner to catch his breath, panting slightly and leaning on his knees. It was absolutely pathetic how little he could run now. He mops the sweat from his brow, and straightens his back, wincing as he feels his vertebrae pop back into place. He takes off once more down the hall, no time to falter now; he has a job to do.
1st person: I sank into the hard, scratchy chair as the train passed another stop, rumbling deeper and deeper into the dank swamp that would soon be my home. I scanned the cabin, it was almost empty by this point: only a few stragglers remained, looking worn-out and weary, dozing under the flickering lights. This was both a relief and a curse. Fewer people meant fewer potential enemies, fewer liabilities, a better view of the cabin and fewer people to see me, but also fewer witnesses, an increased chance of being attacked, and I was a lot more conspicuous now that I could no longer hide amongst the chattering crowd. After a couple more sweeps of the area, I relaxed a bit, seeing no immediate threat, and decided to look over the items I had been sent with a small, formal letter indicating I had been hired to work for the Reliable Excavation Demolition . The weapons were fairly standard, both the knife and the revolver were safely hidden on my person, ready for use at any time, but the so-called ‘Invis Watch’ and odd cigarette case filled with paper masks were beyond anything I had seen before. I spent the weeks before the trip getting used to the watch, figuring out its limits and restrictions, and figuring out how to use it in battle, but every time I tried to figure out the use of the cigarette case, pressing all the little buttons inside, putting the different masks on and taking them off, I couldn’t fathom a use for it. I pulled it out from his pack, turning it about in my hands, feeling the smooth metal under my hands, thumb going over the indent of the MANN Co. Logo on its back. Were the masks actually supposed to be some sort of disguise? Or was it just some daft trinket meant to hold cigarettes? Ah well, I’d figure it out in due time. I tossed it back in my sack and looked out the window, watching the trees passing by getting scragglier and farther and further apart. Whatever was at the end of this train, it probably wasn’t much better than the morbid landscape passing by, so I’d better get used to it.
(Can you tell I wrote this at 2 in the morning?Um, I'm going to be away for the next week or so, so if you try to get a hold of me within that time, I won't be able to answer)
Age: 37
Date of Birth: February 19
Class:Spy
Gender: Male
Languages: English, Functional in French, bits of Russian
Personality: Anton is a quiet man. He’s never spoken much, and the damage to his vocal chords has only increased that tendency to the point where he is effectively mute. He’d rather stand back and listen from a distance than attempt to interact with others, and if he is dragged into a conversation, the most you will probably get out of him some vague body language and maybe a word or two. But one cannot mistake his aloofness for shyness or a dislike of people, indeed he much prefers the company of others to solitude, and will actively search out the presence of others. He deeply believes in the power that being in a group brings, and always puts the team before the individual. He is very loyal and will follow the orders of higher-ups without question, almost to the point of no reason, and would die before betraying his team. He is devoted to his job and will always do his best for the team, though it may not always look like it. That does not mean that he respects or trusts the other members though, he believes things like that are supposed to be earned over time, and will not give them unless he believes it’s truly deserved. He is detached and anti-social, but when push comes to shove you can always count on him to do his best for the team.
Sexuality: I don’t know, he doesn’t really know, probably straight.
History: Born in Liverpool to a single mom during a time of decline, his life had never been a fortunate one. He spent more time on the streets than he did at home or at school and fell into bad company early in life, getting involved in the local gang. Dropped out of high school and left home, loosing contact with his mom, and starting to slowly advance his position in the gang. It was also around this point where he developed a heroin addiction. He moved up in the gang hierarchy to become one of the leader’s more trusted men, taking on more serious jobs, such as collection, kidnapping and, eventually, hits. One day though, a hit took an unfortunate turn and he ended up fleeing to the U.S. to avoid capture. He had to lay low for a couple years, and just as he was starting to re-establish himself, he was diagnosed with Laryngeal cancer, which took him out of the game pretty quick. He had to undergo surgery and chemo. In the few weeks before the treatment, he had to quit the heroin and went through a massive and agonizing, but effective detox, and has been off the heroin ever since(though he still smokes). The cost of the treatment, his addiction and his lack of work pretty much dried up his funds over that time, so when the job as a mercenary came up, he took it without a second thought.
Appearance:
Hair Colour: Brown(when it's there)
Eye Colour: Green
Height: 6’1”(185cm)
Weight: 138 lbs(62.5 Kg)
Anton is not a healthy looking guy. He is thin to the point of looking sickly, with sunken eyes and a thin, gaunt face. His skin is pale, almost pasty, which is a mix of genetics, personal choice, and the fact he’s still recovering from his treatment. His eyes are a pale, poisonous looking green and are seemingly fixed in a dispassionate half-glare, which he will direct at anything and anyone that crosses his path. If you happen to see him, without his mask on (which is extremely rare), you will notice the he is completely bald. His hair has only started growing back and he just shaves off whatever does grow for simplicity. Another thing about his head that’s hard to miss is the two very large tattoos covering both sides of his head. One is of a kraken, and the other a phoenix. Both are gang related, but he won’t talk about them. He also has a very prominent scar on his neck from the surgery, as well as track marks on his arms. In terms of attire, for formal meetings he will wear the full suit, but does not like it, and will change out as soon as possible(keeping the mask on, of course), preferring to wear a simple t-shirt and jeans. In battle, he will wear most of the suit, but usually leaves the jacket and dress shoes, rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt and pulling on a pair of old trainers.
Image: I don't have a full-body image yet, but in the meantime, have this: i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m628/SuperSquidGirl/Spy-Head.jpg
And a pic of both tattoos: i1135.photobucket.com/albums/m628/SuperSquidGirl/Spy-tatto0s.jpg
Roleplay Examples
3rd Person: The lock slides open with a satisfying thunk. Extracting them from the mechanism, Anton hastily puts the picks back in their case and tucks them in his inside pocket for later use. After taking a quick glance through the door to make sure there was no-one waiting on the other side, he slips in and quietly jogs down the hallway. The sounds of battle reach his ears, explosions and gunfire sounding closer and closer. He needs to get this done fast. After a few twists and turns, he pauses at a corner to catch his breath, panting slightly and leaning on his knees. It was absolutely pathetic how little he could run now. He mops the sweat from his brow, and straightens his back, wincing as he feels his vertebrae pop back into place. He takes off once more down the hall, no time to falter now; he has a job to do.
1st person: I sank into the hard, scratchy chair as the train passed another stop, rumbling deeper and deeper into the dank swamp that would soon be my home. I scanned the cabin, it was almost empty by this point: only a few stragglers remained, looking worn-out and weary, dozing under the flickering lights. This was both a relief and a curse. Fewer people meant fewer potential enemies, fewer liabilities, a better view of the cabin and fewer people to see me, but also fewer witnesses, an increased chance of being attacked, and I was a lot more conspicuous now that I could no longer hide amongst the chattering crowd. After a couple more sweeps of the area, I relaxed a bit, seeing no immediate threat, and decided to look over the items I had been sent with a small, formal letter indicating I had been hired to work for the Reliable Excavation Demolition . The weapons were fairly standard, both the knife and the revolver were safely hidden on my person, ready for use at any time, but the so-called ‘Invis Watch’ and odd cigarette case filled with paper masks were beyond anything I had seen before. I spent the weeks before the trip getting used to the watch, figuring out its limits and restrictions, and figuring out how to use it in battle, but every time I tried to figure out the use of the cigarette case, pressing all the little buttons inside, putting the different masks on and taking them off, I couldn’t fathom a use for it. I pulled it out from his pack, turning it about in my hands, feeling the smooth metal under my hands, thumb going over the indent of the MANN Co. Logo on its back. Were the masks actually supposed to be some sort of disguise? Or was it just some daft trinket meant to hold cigarettes? Ah well, I’d figure it out in due time. I tossed it back in my sack and looked out the window, watching the trees passing by getting scragglier and farther and further apart. Whatever was at the end of this train, it probably wasn’t much better than the morbid landscape passing by, so I’d better get used to it.
(
