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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 9, 2009 22:23:42 GMT -5
Name: Roland D. Jansen (alias)
Age: 29
Sex: Male
Orientation: Gay
Allegiance: New November
Background: Roland hails from Montreal, where he practiced parkour and savate (French kickboxing). He ran with a gang, but got into some trouble and some rivals attacked his apartment one night, killing his family. He had to move to the city to live with his aunt and uncle. He despised the city at first—found it too clean and safe—until he realized that, beneath the gloss, this city was as wild and exciting as Montreal. He now works as a runner and, after the death of Mayor Callaghan, has joined up with New November. It's rumored that his former tracker, Peregrine, was also his boyfriend.
Appearance: See below ;D
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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 9, 2009 22:24:39 GMT -5
Images:   |
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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 9, 2009 22:27:04 GMT -5
Aaaaand a bit of flavor text  -------------------------------------- There was a time—recently, even—when Roland would think about how much better off things would be if the mayor died. And then Callaghan died, and things got even worse. The runner community (he never even thought of it as a community, until it was gone) split right down the middle, between those saying "hell yeah, we'll happily take the blame for his death, and good riddance!" and the rest: those intent on finding out who among their numbers was responsible for his death, or whether a runner was responsible at all. The name November was still synonymous with foolish idealists, blind to the harsh realities of the world, before falling prey to their own naïvety. Like peaceful protest marches could ever accomplish anything? Like civil disobedience could have led anywhere but the riots? New November were sometimes called naïve and idealistic, but Roland knew that runners aren't killers. Well, except occasionally, like when the blues or PK units have you up against the edge and there's no way out but through. But that's self-defense, and anyone signing up to work law enforcement or private security does so knowing that the job carries risks. Political assassination is a whole 'nother level. Besides, politics are a distraction from the job. The familiar weight of the yellow messenger bag bounced in rhythm with his body as he ran. Who knows what's in it? Client confidentiality was one of the many services runners were counted on to supply. He leapt the gap, the abyss between the buildings yawning vertiginously beneath him, and landed in a roll on the other side before sliding over the edge, grabbing hold of the pipework, and riding it down like a fireman's pole before kicking off onto the next building over. The final leg of the journey would mean zip-lining down a power cable to the recipient's building: a one-way trip, and not one Roland wanted to make before consulting his tracker. "You there, Peregrine? How's the police chatter for this neighborhood?" "Quiet as the grave, babe," he responded. "But if things do turn sour, I've got three escape routes already mapped out." "Thanks, hon." Roland smiled and zipped down the cable to the apartment tower. The client's condo was on the twenty-third floor, three down from the roof, with southern exposure over the bay. Roland scaled his way down to the balcony and knocked on the sliding glass door. No answer. The silence persisted even after the second and third knock, and Roland felt the mounting dread that all runners felt when jobs encountered unforeseen complications. "It's silent inside, Peregrine. No answer, but the lights are on. I'm going to take a look." "All right, but be careful. If you need to bolt, take the balconies to the right. They'll lead to an external stairwell with roof access." Roland tested the sliding glass door and found it unlocked. He slid it open slowly and pushed the curtain aside. The room was a mess, obviously ransacked. A man lay sprawled on the floor, a bullet hole in his chest. Roland hadn't been given a name for the recipient, just the address, but he recognized the dead man now as a member of the city council. Not a good time to be a public servant, lately. And what would happen if the police arrived at the murder scene just in time to find a runner? Roland immediately evacuated the apartment and followed Peregrine's directions to safety. Politics were a distraction from the job—but, recently, it's been harder and harder to keep the two apart. |
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Post by Burke (John) on Jun 9, 2009 22:27:55 GMT -5
way cool, but the NN are run by Isaac, however, his bf can join the NN's as well  *woo now I'm not the only unstraightness XD* |
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Post by Douglas K. Forn III (m4nu3L) on Jun 10, 2009 0:28:42 GMT -5
I like your style. too bad you not on my team.
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Post by Chia (God_HunD) on Jun 10, 2009 4:16:00 GMT -5
Like it... Its good to see the fast expansion of the page! hmmm... I made a multipost block, but it seems it doesnt work... lol |
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Post by Isaac Preston (wrayayrton) on Jun 10, 2009 9:17:48 GMT -5
nice. whered you get the 3d screenies? anyway nn is cool. and thanks for joining and if I heard correctly, you have a bf? best friend? they join NN too? also. yes I'm the tracker. so I hope you dont mind that I'm not gay for roland.
what position in NN do you want to be?
runner
head runner
informant
combatant
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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 10, 2009 10:03:42 GMT -5
nice. whered you get the 3d screenies? anyway nn is cool. and thanks for joining and if I heard correctly, you have a bf? best friend? they join NN too? also. yes I'm the tracker. so I hope you dont mind that I'm not gay for roland. what position in NN do you want to be? runner head runner informant combatant The 3D screenshots are from City of Heroes (awesome game!) Peregrine, his tracker, is also his boyfriend. Does New November have only one tracker? If there are multiple trackers, Peregrine can be part of New November. If there's only one tracker, then Peregrine can be Roland's tracker when Roland is doing freelance work on the side. What's the difference between those different positions? I'm leaning toward head runner, because I think Roland has been doing this job for a long time (like 10 years). |
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Post by Isaac Preston (wrayayrton) on Jun 10, 2009 10:06:41 GMT -5
ok we need a head runner. and NN has only 1 tracker.
BUT if you did freelance work on the side, you'd only be an associate srry
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Post by Chia (God_HunD) on Jun 10, 2009 10:10:25 GMT -5
freelancing will be hard, as you have to change side every time you enter the NN or NCO or CPF... seriously why not just leave freelancing to Dion?
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Post by Isaac Preston (wrayayrton) on Jun 10, 2009 10:11:30 GMT -5
well if he wants to be a freelancer than fine, but he'd only be nn associate if he worked for us
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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 10, 2009 10:12:39 GMT -5
Okay, Roland will be head runner for NN.
Does New November have a forum? I can't see it. Can someone give me access?
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Post by Isaac Preston (wrayayrton) on Jun 10, 2009 10:15:00 GMT -5
YAAY
youll get access
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Post by Chia (God_HunD) on Jun 10, 2009 10:15:15 GMT -5
Sorry John (the SA) needs to do that... but yes they do
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Post by Roland D. Jansen (peregrine) on Jun 10, 2009 17:49:42 GMT -5
Some more flavor text, to explain why he switched trackers. And eeemmmoo drrraammmaaa. ;D
----------------------------------------------------
Like most other runners, Roland only took the train when necessary—that is, when someone was shooting at him. Most of the time, when he commuted, it was by rooftop: safer, free, and much less crowded. Tonight however, when he came home to his apartment, there was someone waiting for him on the roof: Peregrine, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm quitting this," Peregrine said.
"Wait, quitting what?' Roland asked, shocked. "Me, or the job?
"That depends. You want to come with?"
"Come where?"
"Away, Roland. Out of this damn city, before it gets any worse. And believe me, it's getting worse. Used to be we could keep our heads down and count on that keeping us out of trouble. But that thing with the city councilman?"
"We still don't know what that was about."
"And I'm happier not knowing, believe me. But that kind of thing is just getting more and more common. We can't keep politics out of running anymore. With one assassination after another, and runners getting implicated for them, and now with those tools in the NCO. The cops used to leave us alone, but now we've got blues and these PK assholes opening fire. We've got birds chasing us through the streets, and these Icarus assholes chasing us on the roofs. We've got runners fighting runners—"
"We've got? That's all happening to runners, Peregrine. You're a tracker."
"So was Merc. Did that protect him?"
Roland sat down on the parapet at the roof's edge. With his world falling apart around him, sitting down was the least he could do to keep his balance. "I would never let anything happen to you," he said in a plaintive, miserable tone.
"You would never want anything to happen to me," Peregrine said sadly. He sat down next to Roland and draped an arm over his shoulders. "But every day you head out there and put your life on the line for the job, I have to accept that, ultimately, I'm just a voice on the radio to you, and I can't keep you safe, any more than you can keep me safe. And I can't do that anymore. This job isn't worth it."
"The job isn't worth…" Roland echoed. "It's not just about the money."
"Right, I know, it's about the thrills."
"No," Roland said.
"Then why stay? Why not come with me?"
Roland sat silently for a minute. "I was running a job one night and had to grab a bag from a stash point, in some air ducts. Someone, I don't know who, wrote Where is November? on the duct wall. I've seen it other places as well. And every time I see it, I want to say We're here. We're right here."
"Idealism," Peregrine said.
"I've been doing this for, like, ten years, Peregrine. I'm a pro. And they need me. Need my experience."
"Roland, you didn't get moved to this city until after the downtown riots. You don't know what it was like. I've lived here all my life, and believe me, I remember. I've seen first-hand what November means, and it's not something I'm eager to see repeated."
"Runners aren't killers, Peregrine. People need to know that."
"You don't need to be a runner, not anymore. You've done your part. You could do something else."
Roland met his eyes. "It's all I know how to do."
Peregrine sighed. "I don't want to make this any harder than I already knew it would be. You have my email addresses. If you decide that there's something else you can do, I'll be waiting."
Then Peregrine stood up, and ran.
Peregrine got his nickname for two reasons: First, he had the sharpest pair of eyes in the business. He was a better shot than even the CPF's best shooters. Rumor had it he'd once shot down a sniper's bullet—obviously a myth, but if anyone could pull off a trick shot like that, it was Peregrine. Those eyes were also what made him such a great tracker: No detail escaped his notice.
The second reason was that he was fast.
Roland watched him run away, as fast as he'd ever seen him run before. Seconds later, he was gone.
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*woo now I'm not the only unstraightness XD*
