Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2016 8:39:00 GMT 2
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nickname • Elder
member group • Plebea
rank in the current group • Self-Employed
age • 38
birthday • February 1, 1977
gender • Female
sexuality • Hetero
occupation • Criminal Cleaner/Fixer
nationality • American
accent • American
loyalty • Herself and whomever is paying her
face claim • Annie Parisse
height • 178 cm
hair color • Black
eye color • Hazel
skin • Pale
Sometimes I wish I was still Kerri Franklin, the straight-A student, cheerleader, forensic science graduate from UND. There were no agendas, no sides to play. I was going to be a cop and no one would be the wiser…
Sometimes I wish I was back on my Grandpa’s farm. From age seven to eighteen, I’d get dropped off on his front porch and everyone would forget about me…and I’d forget about them, too. Grandpa, or I called him Elder never did, though, he saw the potential in me early on, I see that now. Persuasion, sophistication, sociability, the works, everything I am using now I owe to Grandpa. I long for the days just watching him make forgeries and fake IDs and teaching me to shoot firearms...
And sometimes I wish my Dad was around to see what I’ve become. He knew he drank everyone important in his life away and blamed me entirely for it, the “anxiety of being a father”. When Grandpa died, his will left me a very sizeable monetary inheritance, unknown to either of us. Dad lashed out at me that night, July 19th, 1999. He came at me physically...and I made sure he and Kerri Franklin were never to be seen again...
I've been Lang McCormick for five years now, I have no loyalty to one cause or side, no safety net to fall on when the shit hits the fan, and it’s rather comforting. I’ve done jobs for the innocent, the guilty, the power-starving, those that want to keep their power…I’ve committed murder, cleaned them up, and set others up for them…I’m holding secrets of politicians, cops, non-Bianchi gang members…
I’m equal-opportunist…and that’s why this recent bombing is so interesting…
I have no idea how Enigma plans on going after the Bianchi’s…or how the White Widow’s going to respond to this public threat…Grandpa always told me to let situations take form, take shape...let them breathe...
I'm going to sit back and watch the chess pieces move...until somebody...anybody calls...cause like I said, I'm equal opportunist...
ooc name/alias • Stephen
experience • On and off over the last five years
other characters • None
how you found us • Kitty (BoB)
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the basics
full name • Kerri Franklin, Lang McCormicknickname • Elder
member group • Plebea
rank in the current group • Self-Employed
age • 38
birthday • February 1, 1977
gender • Female
sexuality • Hetero
occupation • Criminal Cleaner/Fixer
nationality • American
accent • American
loyalty • Herself and whomever is paying her
the looks
face claim • Annie Parisse
height • 178 cm
hair color • Black
eye color • Hazel
skin • Pale
the freestyle app
Sometimes I wish I was still Kerri Franklin, the straight-A student, cheerleader, forensic science graduate from UND. There were no agendas, no sides to play. I was going to be a cop and no one would be the wiser…
Sometimes I wish I was back on my Grandpa’s farm. From age seven to eighteen, I’d get dropped off on his front porch and everyone would forget about me…and I’d forget about them, too. Grandpa, or I called him Elder never did, though, he saw the potential in me early on, I see that now. Persuasion, sophistication, sociability, the works, everything I am using now I owe to Grandpa. I long for the days just watching him make forgeries and fake IDs and teaching me to shoot firearms...
And sometimes I wish my Dad was around to see what I’ve become. He knew he drank everyone important in his life away and blamed me entirely for it, the “anxiety of being a father”. When Grandpa died, his will left me a very sizeable monetary inheritance, unknown to either of us. Dad lashed out at me that night, July 19th, 1999. He came at me physically...and I made sure he and Kerri Franklin were never to be seen again...
I've been Lang McCormick for five years now, I have no loyalty to one cause or side, no safety net to fall on when the shit hits the fan, and it’s rather comforting. I’ve done jobs for the innocent, the guilty, the power-starving, those that want to keep their power…I’ve committed murder, cleaned them up, and set others up for them…I’m holding secrets of politicians, cops, non-Bianchi gang members…
I’m equal-opportunist…and that’s why this recent bombing is so interesting…
I have no idea how Enigma plans on going after the Bianchi’s…or how the White Widow’s going to respond to this public threat…Grandpa always told me to let situations take form, take shape...let them breathe...
I'm going to sit back and watch the chess pieces move...until somebody...anybody calls...cause like I said, I'm equal opportunist...
the role player
ooc name/alias • Stephen
experience • On and off over the last five years
other characters • None
how you found us • Kitty (BoB)
the roleplay sample
Keeping appearances always amazed Lang. The right suit, the right hairstyle, even the right color on her nails could make or break a cover. No better example of than this night, as a black Bulls hoodie, jeans, and a backwards hat sufficed, unlike the associate she was meeting. While he hid behind a mask to keep his identity, all Lang needed was a wardrobe change to pass the eye test. She'd be lying to herself if she believed it wasn't a shot at him.
Approaching the Trenchermen, Lang could hear the echoes of Kalvin's arguments against meeting him, that she didn't need to justify anything, but Lang understood the importance here: You do not need to give the competition anymore reason to put a bullet in your head...for appearance's sake, anyway.
The Trenchermen being closed, Lang crossed into the alley, dimly lit, but he was there, his white mask faintly appearing. He hadn't called for a job opportunity in awhile and Lang didn't need his personal business...she needed his own business, if only because she was much better at it, in her biased opinion. Lang smiled and slowly approached the Masked Mercenary.
"I hope you're not expecting an apology..."
Keeping appearances always amazed Lang. The right suit, the right hairstyle, even the right color on her nails could make or break a cover. No better example of than this night, as a black Bulls hoodie, jeans, and a backwards hat sufficed, unlike the associate she was meeting. While he hid behind a mask to keep his identity, all Lang needed was a wardrobe change to pass the eye test. She'd be lying to herself if she believed it wasn't a shot at him.
Approaching the Trenchermen, Lang could hear the echoes of Kalvin's arguments against meeting him, that she didn't need to justify anything, but Lang understood the importance here: You do not need to give the competition anymore reason to put a bullet in your head...for appearance's sake, anyway.
The Trenchermen being closed, Lang crossed into the alley, dimly lit, but he was there, his white mask faintly appearing. He hadn't called for a job opportunity in awhile and Lang didn't need his personal business...she needed his own business, if only because she was much better at it, in her biased opinion. Lang smiled and slowly approached the Masked Mercenary.
"I hope you're not expecting an apology..."