Post by jane on Jun 27, 2011 19:32:23 GMT -5
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Sarah Jane Smith.
Twenty-One ,, Jane Doe ,, Division Agent ,, Division ,, Committed
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"Special Agent Sarah Jane Smith; that is my designation, though some of my co-workers facetiously call me Jane Doe as an exaggeration of my already-generic name. Up until three years ago, I was just a cadet. However, after being activated for field duty as a Private at eighteen, I swiftly rose through the ranks to where I now am at the age of 21. I have been deployed near-constantly since activation and never failed an assignment; I hope to make Corporal by next year. Of course, ranks are mostly a matter of personal pride for me. Though they do afford a degree of increased authority with other field agents, I do not receive the salary typically associated with my position. Rather, I continue to receive the same living allowance granted on my eighteenth birthday. This is because I am a gifted asset, not an actual Division employee.
Despite working for Division, I’m a naturally-born gifted. The R&D department has tried to engineer new abilities for me numerous times, but my blood samples always seem to neutralize any additional gifted genetic material. I am a soldier and not a scientist but still, this seems to make sense to me given that my primary gift is Power Suppression. It negates the abilities and effects of other gifted within a 10 yard radius around me. Additionally, as my secondary gift, Power Sensing grants me awareness of any other gifted within that same range as well as knowledge of what their abilities are. Both of these are passive and constantly-active. I’ve encountered some of my peers who resent the distinction between benefits received and freedoms granted by human versus gifted soldiers but it has been present my entire life, ever since being born in Division’s facility on July 19th, twenty-one years ago. I was raised in the program and, as such, I understand the system and its necessities.”
PHYSICAL EXAM
“My last physical catalogued my height as 5’6” and I weighed in at 140 lbs, placing my BMI comfortably within my target range. I clocked 1 mile at 9 minutes even and benched 15 reps of 120 lbs. All told, I’m confident that I have been able to maintain the physique required to perform at my peak. While I acknowledge that I could build greater muscle mass, my focus on definition is not unintentional; my missions generally require me to exert significantly more speed and coordination than pure physical strength. From an aesthetic perspective, though it is a matter only of personal ego I have discovered in the past few years and therefore obviously not prioritized, I think that maintaining 34b-28-34 measurements is a relative success given my degree of practiced athleticism. I have also gotten into the habit of wearing cosmetics, though primarily just dark lipstick and mascara, and visiting a civilian hairdresser for straightening and straight bangs. My superiors have not expressed disapproval over the development of these moderate frivolous practices and the effect pleases me.
Besides, I have continued to maintain an utilitarian and practical wardrobe. Sticking to an urban-camouflage palette of dark grays and blacks; I wear simple, fitted, cotton or denim tops and slacks, along with combat boots. When in public, I have made an addition of a leather bolero jacket to conceal my shoulder holsters. Speaking of holsters; in addition to their contents of my standard-issue M9A1 pistol and Raysun X1 non-lethal firearm, I almost always have my personal Smith & Weston 642 Centennial beneath my shirt in the back of my waste band. Most of my superiors and peers don’t understand my preference for using the revolver but my first firearms trainer was an old-school ex-marine who taught me to value classic models like it before he even considered instruction in the more modern styles. As such, while I have since earned my Marksman badge with several other side arms, it is still the weapon I am most comfortable with.”
PSYCH REVIEW
“Other than casually mocking the generic style of naming Division used with me, there is a second reason why many of the other field agents call me Jane Doe. It is their way of likening me to a corpse for my cold and detached demeanor. I am a very analytical thinker and, while not necessarily methodical as my job requires me to know when to react reflexively and listen to my instincts, this tends to grant me a greater degree of objectivity from my own emotions than I have perceived many others displaying. The self control honed through the variety of intensive training and study routines that have shaped my life only add to this; while I may only have been on active duty for three years, I have been with Division full-time since birth. This gives me an edge in both performance and dedication over soldiers recruited later in life, even the human ones. I understand the program fully because it has been taught to me for as long as I can remember; there is no room in my mind for questioning Division’s absolutes as I so often hear of others doing. Of course there is civilian resistance to what we do but that is what the military is here for: to regulate that which people can’t or won’t on their own, by force if necessary.
There are certain drawbacks to my insular upbringing though. While my experiences were more united and streamlined, lacking the worldly exposure even surrogate-raised assets have has left me disconnected from cultural and social norms to an extent even I can recognize. While I have made an effort to better integrate myself into society since being activated, having the freedom now to spend time in public when not on missions and make my own training hours, the job comes first of course and there is still a great deal I tend not to understand. Various colloquialisms and pop-culture references continue to be foreign to me and that is just the surface layer. I often feel that almost everyone else operates on a completely different systems of values, especially when it comes to ethical concerns. I don’t doubt the validity of what Division has taught me to follow but this lack of congruity can, at times, strain my relationship with some of my co-workers and especially other gifted assets. As for socializing with civilians… that is still a very slowly developing skill for me. Additionally, there is only so far I am willing to even attempt to connect to others on an interpersonal level. Building relationships and ties can compromise one’s judgment and loyalties; I have seen it too many times before to make that same mistake myself.”
COMBAT LOG
“My parents were Division prisoners, gifted inmates either too belligerent or too powerful to be used as assets. That is all the information I ever received on them. As my primary power was evident from birth, I was raised in my early years by the R&D department. The scientists there managed my diet and activities to give me the best chance of developing a mind and body well-served to being a field agent later in life. They also began their first preliminary studies of my tissue samples during this period. However, when I was four, I was handed off to the primary care of Division’s military branch to begin my training in earnest.
There was no such thing as free time in my childhood. Aside from eight hours of sleep between 9PM and 5AM, my day was scheduled to make the most efficient usage of time possible. Basic calisthenics and stretches started off the day, followed by a short mess break. After that, my day was filled with intensive strength training, gymnastics, and jiu-jitsu with periodic breaks for two more meals each day and studying a government-sanctioned educational curriculum. I was lucky I suppose, seeing as I have since learned that civilian children are generally left to their own devices with far greater frequency and often spend this time in activities which are unproductive at best and destructive at worst.
As the years passed by, a progressed to more advanced material in all my subjects, both physical and mental. Though officially a cadet, I was also a gifted asset and so took regular trips to R&D for testing and attempted experimentation. These were uncomfortable, often invasive and painful, and apparently garnered no results; the scientists were unable to grant me additional powers. I confess that, at the time, I developed a degree of distaste for them for these reasons. Positively though, that only increased my commitment to military service. At the age of ten, I achieved a degree of mastery in my primary disciplines, including a first-dan black belt in jiu-jitsu, that prompted my superiors to move me on to the next level of my training.
My instruction dropped general education and focused purely on the necessary military and legal information I would need to apply in the field. Strength training and jiu-jitsu were relegated to shorter and more intermittent, though admittedly significantly more intense, sessions. I began to practice ninjitsu and gymnastics was replaced by parkour. This was the time that my weapons training began as well, focusing almost exclusively on small firearms. Finally, I began my most intensive conditioning yet: pain tolerance training. While initially an intimidating, admittedly often frightening, experience at first; the timing synced well with the more extreme procedures R&D were periodically attempting on me, having shifted their focus from manifesting additional gifts for me to harvesting my body’s suppression capabilities into a power-suppressing serum. They are still working on that today, though it is my understanding that the roadblocks and their slow progress over the past ten years or so has sidelined the project for more promising options. I initially resented them for that as well but, as time and training developed my maturity and self-control respectively, I have come to accept that the rate of science is less concrete than military missions but no less valuable or worth the pain to get there.
At any rate, I did well in all of my training and was immediately given Private rank when I turned eighteen. While I had gone on a few secluded and controlled exercises outside the facility before, it was not until then that I truly began to experience the world. Though regular missions keep me busy and I have enforced my own fairly strict training regiment to keep at my peek, not to mention intermittent briefings and the occasional trip to R&D, I have had time to myself for the first time in my life over the past three years. This has allowed me to gain an increasing understanding of the world I operate in as well as develop a few personally-pleasurable tendencies, such as petty matter like attending to my appearance, while continuing to further my position in climbing from Private, to Private 2, to Private First Class, and having just recently earned my Specialist rank.”
hey, so i'm Shae. i've been roleplaying for over three years now. as well as this character, i also play no one else yet. you can reach me by directly PMing, the Cbox, or asking for messengers in either if you need me for anything. i found made up stories by an ad on Caution 2.0 and i'm pretty glad i did. here's an example of mah skillz. (:
“Erika, get the vault.” Sean gave the young girl a small reassuring smile as he instructed her to work her magnokinetic powers on the vault door. For anyone else, the four-foot-thick titanium portal would have been nigh-impassable. For her, all it would take was concentration. It saddened him that someone her age, barely more than a child, had to be involved in a bank robbery. However, this act would solidify Plague’s presence and power as well as provide for the many Division refugees staying back at HQ. His gaze roved across the room, taking in Erika through the adjoining doorway as the air warped between her and the vault and Johnny casually arcing electricity between his fingertips as he guarded the hostages. Sean himself stood tall in the middle of the room, the most obvious target because his skin-tight invisible force field would protect him. The last of their party, Cara with her enhanced senses, was out of sight playing sentry near the front do-
“Sean, there’s something wrong with my pow-” Cara’s panicky-sounding voice came through the walkie, ominously cut short. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Johnny cast him a worried glance but his focus was on depressing the com button. His lips parted to try and determine if she was still on the other line, if she was okay, when he heard the ding of the front door opening and felt the prickle across his flesh of his force-field dissipating. He had just enough time for his eyes to widen before unconsciousness took him.
***
Stepping demurely over the crumpled form of the sensory-enhanced sentry, Sarah edged the door open with her hip; her hands were occupied with leveling her Raysun X1, rubber bullet cartridge equipped, at the first of the three gifted targets she now sensed within the bank. He didn’t even have time to look up from his radio before she took him with a round to the base of his skull. His partner managed to turn aggressively towards her and then gape for a moment as the lightning he’d previously been preparing to launch at her sparked out on his fingertips. Then she squeezed off a shot between his eyes and dropped him too.
The civilians stared in predictable silence as she strode calmly past them, towards the doorway into the safe room. She could sense the magnokinetic approaching it from the other side. Pacing her stride to reach the passage just before the remaining Plague member, Sarah serenely slid the cartridge out of the Raysun as she went. Obliviously, a young girl’s puzzled face poked past the door frame, searching for her superior whose prone body was obscured from her vision by the bank’s front counter.
“Sean? I don’t know if its too heavy and I strained myself or what but-” Stepping fully through the doorway, she didn’t even have time to register Sarah’s presence standing against the wall when the Raysun’s cold electrodes were pressed against her neck. The Division agent pulled the trigger and discharged 75kVs into the girl’s flesh. Unconsciousness took her in seconds. Reflexively, Sarah caught her still-twitching form with one hand and gently lowered her to the ground. Holstering her weapon with her right hand, her left went to her earpiece.
“Targets have all been neutralized with zero casualties.”
“Do you need us to send in a mind-wiper?”
Having paced back over to the civilians who, given the rapidity of her strike, had yet to move from their hostage positions; Sarah paused. Arranging her expression into what she hoped was a reassuring smile, Sarah reached into her bolero jacket and produced an FBI badge as she knelt down in front of them. After a per functionary inquiry into whether any of them were injured or harmed in any way, she asked the question that was significantly more important to her.
“Can you tell me what you saw?” Some stammered, some grumbled, and they all talked over each other. Still, after listening briefly, Sarah was convinced they’d seen nothing that they hadn’t already convinced themselves was anything more than an advanced taser gun of some sort. Nodding and thanking them in a tone intended to sound genuine, infused with some of the expression the other Division soldiers were always telling her her deadpan voice lacked, she stepped away and spoke into her mic.
“Negative. No witness threats.”
“Good. Move the targets out. The real FBI will be on site in T-minus 5 to take statements.”
“Understood.” Pulling a handful of zip ties out of her pocket, Sarah glanced back towards the civilians even as she knelt beside and flipped over the force-field generator.
“Sorry for the inconvenience folks but if you could just sit tight a little while longer, my associates will be here soon to ask you a few more questions.”
As the first FBI van, sirens blaring, pulled into one driveway; Sarah’s nondescript sedan coasted smoothly out the other, tinted windows concealing the four additional passengers in the back seat, all bound and unconscious. Lips turning up ever so slightly at another successful mission, she headed home to Division.
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I see the blue panda.
