Post by Mr Fair. on Sept 29, 2012 8:28:36 GMT -5
< < Mr Fair. Scarborough Fair. > >
nicknames; just Mr Fair, only friends call him Scar;
DoB; 25th September;
age; centuries old, forgot exactly how old;
face claim; Simon Baker;
friends; little Corona (calls him Mr Biscuit);
"Scarborough Fair.
I am here, listening to your call. All I need to know is your name and your current location. Should I take your call, all I ask you to do is keep your doors closed and sit tight. I will arrive within the hour. Remember, I do not do favors for the same person twice."
I am here, listening to your call. All I need to know is your name and your current location. Should I take your call, all I ask you to do is keep your doors closed and sit tight. I will arrive within the hour. Remember, I do not do favors for the same person twice."
h i s w o r k ;
> Scar is both a private detective and a mercenary.
> He takes his "favors" from his answering machine, hooked up to his red telephone.
> He only does one favor, per person. No more.
> The phone line is normally dead, causing people to think that he doesn't exist.
> The line opens late nights to a few hours almost once or twice every week. Majority of the calls come from people he's done favors for.
> Should he take a call, he will use the location given to reach his clients by door.
> He doesn't differentiate between gang members or policemen, human or supernatural, citizen or convict. He comes when people need him.
> Calls from Rundas members are taken with caution though.
> Scar used to give out his number to shady people and places. Being the "alternative solution" when there are no others.
> The number he uses haven't been changed for decades. But no one is able to track down where the number comes from.
> He's still well-known in these modern times. But as a myth, a legend or a rumor.
p e r s o n a l i t y ;
> Scar is ruthless, blunt and impatient when he's taken a call.
> Often also insensitive, snarky, rude, sarcastic and cocky.
> His quick words and no-nonsense attitude makes him a very reliable person to work with.
> Sometimes he likes to think he knows everything just because he's been around for centuries.
> He will never lie to anyone at all. Should he have to, he can think of ways to avoid telling the truth.
> He doesn't taunt people. Unless the situation calls for it.
> When he gets the chance to lighten up, he can be a charming gentleman.
> Caring, gentle, sweet and kind.
> This makes him one of the more comfortable people to be around, as long as he's content.
> Scar does have an infectious smile to him.
> He enjoys being around other people more than being alone. He cherishes the friends he made, but moves on quickly when they pass away. Scar decided that he has spent enough time grieving for what he's lost.
p r e f e r e n c e s ;
> Scar owns and collects a number of pocket-watches, preferably antiques. Never goes anywhere without one. Claims that 'a good pocket-watch can save your life'.
> He's not fond of keeping weapons. But his apartment has plenty of knives of almost any type, just lying or stuck everywhere.
> Scar is addicted to silence. Should his mind stop buzzing with static.
> He loves to smoke, do drugs on occasions and drinking alcohol. He likes the pleasure it gives him.
> He enjoys killing, should his call require him to.
> Scar absolutely adores children. If one is around, he instantly turns sweet and protective.
> Occasionally, he loves taking strolls around the city.
> He enjoys getting to know more about the present and the coming future. But often gets nostalgic from time to time.
> Scar hates idle chatter or personal stories of any kind, unless he has taken a liking to you.
> He despises anyone who wastes his time or tries to cheat it out of him.
> He is disgusted with liars. Always.
> Scar doesn't like witnessing senseless violence. Usually he'll turn away in disgust.
h i m s e l f ;
> Height at 6.1". Tall and well-built.
> Blonde wavy hair; not too scruffy, not too neat.
> Deep blue eyes; piercing and clear. Sometimes haunting.
> On occasion, likes to grow out some stubble. But mostly shaven.
> Countless scars riddle his body. Mostly bullet wounds.
> Often in a 3-piece suit and dress shoes (preferably Balmorals).
> Scar has the ability to travel to anywhere just by using doors to get to other doors. But it drains so much energy from his body just moving through the distances, he is required to sleep for hours, days or even weeks to get his strength back. If he pushes himself too much, he will eventually kill himself.
> Scar is a strong psychic. But only uses it to find out the truth of his caller's intentions or when he is on the verge of death. He doesn't intrude on personal boundaries. Should someone try to invade, they see and hear nothing but the static in his head.
> Scar has a curious white mark on the back of his right hand. It allows him to put his targets in a harmless, semi-comatose state for as long as this hand is around their neck and a few minutes after release.
> Scar doesn't know what he really is, as he has no abdominal organs except for just his single human heart. His one true weakness.
> Scar has slow regenerative properties. It might take him a day or so to heal just bullet wounds, it will take him weeks or months to regenerate limbs back. This makes him vulnerable to attacks.
> When he is on duty, Scar is unfazed by loud noises/explosions, bribery or threats. Mostly because his mind will tune to static without any effort. But the static does block out most other noises, causing him to be vulnerable to attacks from blind spots.
> Scar will not attack if there is a call of surrender. Unless it is a lie.
> He is handy with any handgun. On occasion, shows skill with other weapons, long-range, short-range or melee. Prefers short-range kills.
> The static noise in his mind sometimes gets way too loud and erratic for him to stand and it can drive him to insanity from time to time. He would usually hurt himself in an attempt to 'stop the noise' until he looses consciousnesses, often he wakes up with no recollection with what he had done, except for the remaining stinging and throbbing pains as clues to what he might have done.
> The effects of what any drug and/or too much alcohol can do to a normal human, Scar can feel it too. He usually stays away from anything that might affect his heart. Drug poisoning is possible for Scar and he can die from it.
> For all those years of experiencing pain and torture, Scar has a very high tolerance to pain. He often turns sarcastic and baits for more for some reason.
s h r e d s o f h i s t o r y ;
> Scar has tried to remember his past. But for living so long, you will eventually forget your roots. It got to a point where he didn't care about his past anymore, even if it held the answer to what he is at the moment or how he came to be like what he is. Living an immortal lifespan as a human shell with a mortal heart.
> He remembers promising to be the Good Samaritian, helping people should anyone and everyone who has the need for someone else reliable. But he also didn't want to be taken advantage of, so he does one favor for every person out there. To who he made the promise to, he had long forgotten.
> So for years, he has been living in the same rundown apartment. With nothing but a dresser, a sofa, a rug, a lamp and a red telephone connected to an answering machine. Doing favors for every other stranger he has never met before, three to five people almost once or twice every week.
r p s a m p l e ;
docs.google.com/document/d/1mzfh0sTfAcePL8GaDeRcgyNDsHjKbOxPuoPokrWmdCY/edit
Scar arrived at his location. It wasn’t hard, but neither was it easy for him as he felt his energy sap a little. Closing the regular door behind him, he met up with the people who had ‘called’ him. For having a static-filled mind like Scar’s, it wasn’t easy for him to concentrate on the thing that’s called life. His head buzzed like there was a nest of flies inside it. The people in front of him were wary, he could have been a stranger of all things. Scar fished out a cigarette and light from his coat pocket and lit it, showing off his right arm and the curious mark burned white on the back of his hand. Not that it meant anything. It took him a while to notice that he was meeting these people in a dark alley way and it was raining.
“Mr. Fair?” was the question. “Yes.” was the answer. “Scarborough Fair, at your service.” He didn’t want to do idle talk. His brain is already filled with static and he didn’t need to remember the mumbling stories of anyone else. He was asked out for something and he just wanted to get that job done now. “So what do you want? I hope you know what you’re calling me out here for. By the way, put those damn guns down. You called a man for a reason and yet you threaten him with weapons. You’re not after me for my head, as far as I can tell.” Being psychic has its benefits, to see who called, what they called for and why they called. But snooping in brains isn’t polite. Scar only did it to see if they wanted to give him a job or if they were going to try to kill him.
His statement put them on the edge, but they did put the guns down eventually. Policemen, he noticed. The boys in blue. Scar took a long drag from his cigarette, he’ll soon need another one. He liked smoking. It wasn’t going to kill him. Not for all the years, decades, centuries in the world. He had no lungs anyway, but he was still mortal.
“A suspect by the name of Colton Gavins. A supernatural. Currently holed up in the building there. We just can’t get any closer, he has friends.”
Scar raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?” He sighed. “Dead or alive?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want him dead or alive?”
“Alive.”
“Fifteen minutes. Give me that pistol and wait at that door.” Scar motioned at the door he had appeared from. He took another long drag then discarded the cig. Then without listening to any other questions on how he would get his target, he opened the door and disappeared behind it. If anyone else were to open the locked door though, they would find themselves in an electrical room. Scar had an ability, using doors to get to anywhere he wanted.
And he found himself in the building the policemen were talking about. He lit another cigarette and went on his way. Colton Gavins had plenty of people helping him and Scar showed no mercy. Putting a bullet into anyone and everyone who pointed a gun at him for just a second. Taking a break behind a pillar to reload and to take a drag. He loved this killing. Without another second to lose, he killed more people. His head buzzed with excitement and it practically drowned out any sound he should have heard.
At least he reached Colton. If he was screaming for mercy, Scar didn’t hear it. Not over the static. He kicked the man into a corner, forcing him to drop his gun. Colton was then punched into submission, making it easier for Scar. “Why hello there Mr Gavins. You’ve been called on.” Scar smirked, then reached out with his right arm to touch the target’s neck. In a second, the man stopped fighting and screaming. Scar had all control over this man, just as long as his hand was on his neck. And he led him outside, back through the door he promised to appear at. All within fifteen minutes.
Unceremoniously, he shoved Colton on the floor in front of the policemen and handed the pistol back. "Give him a few minutes, he'll be back to normal. I've done my job, so good bye. You won't see me again." Without hesitation, he left back through the same door. Scar sighed. The people had used their call for something pointless. A waste of time. Out of fifty calls, he often got one or two that proved a challenge. All other calls were just... Boring.
Scar returned to his rundown apartment. Inside was nothing but a sofa, a rug, a lamp and a red telephone with an answering machine. Scar had enough energy for another run. From the answering machine, there were five calls within the hour now. Four he had met before. He doesn't do a job for a person twice. In the first few years, Scar had handed out a name card. If anyone needed a private detective or a mercenary, Scarborough Fair was your man. Call at an unlisted number he has not changed in decades and he'll come within the hour. If the line was dead, call on another hour or day. Scar preferred late nights and he doesn't work for the same person twice, even if they tried to elude him by changing their name. His card also says that they must answer to the point. No more.
"Scarborough Fair.
I am here, listening to your call. All I need to know is your name and your current location. Should I take your call, all I ask you to do is keep your doors closed and sit tight. I will arrive within the hour. Remember, I do not do favors for the same person twice.
He listened to the call and sighed. He sensed another boring job. Well... That’s no surprise. Smoking another two cigarettes, he finally got up towards his one door. After this, he would be sleeping for god knows how long. His powers and his immortal lifespan had a price and it drained him. Scar could smoke or do drugs all his lifetimes and it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t even need to eat, unless he wanted to amuse himself. He had no organs except for a normal beating heart. His only weakness.
(a million mistakes.)