Albert "Red" Cross
Feb 13, 2014 11:54:39 GMT -7
Post by Deleted on Feb 13, 2014 11:54:39 GMT -7
lbert "Red" Cross
"War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner" - Cormac McCarthy
"War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner" - Cormac McCarthy
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Full Name - Albert Cross
Nicknames/Alias - Red Cross
Age - 46
Date of Birth - April 8th
Place of Birth - Persephone
Gender - Male
Sexual Orientation - Heterosexual
Affiliation - Neutral
Occupation - Hired gun / criminalPlay-By - Max Martini
Build - Broad, muscular build with heavy scarring
Height & Weight - 6'5", 230 lbs.
Hair - Short, red hair cropped like an overgrown and shaggy buzz-cut
Eyes - Green
Unique Features - Scars over most of his chest, back, and arms.
Dressing Style - Simple clothes in grey and drab olive. He usually wears a "Browncoat" jacket riddled with holes from combat. His right hip usually holds a blade that looks like the sort left behind by Reavers.
Other - NoLikes - Puzzles, Collecting, Drinking, Animals, Emotional Distance
Dislikes - Long Stories, Gambling, Children, Co-Dependency, Laziness
Quirks/Habits - Reactive Attachment Disorder (Inhibited form), Borderline Sociopathy
Fears - Fear of Failure, Fear of Humiliation
Secrets - Adelai Niska claimed to part on good terms with Albert, but this was a lie. Currently, there is a price on Albert's head. Albert spent enough time working for Niska to expect this, and knows that most could be looking to collect on the bounty.
Strengths - High Strength, High Willpower, Resourceful
Weaknesses - Difficulty Detecting Manipulation, Damaged Sense of Touch, Short Temper
Talents/Special Abilities - Advanced CQC Training, Detailed Knowledge of Human Anatomy
Aspirations - To have his story end up one passed down through the ages.
Overall Personality -
Many find Albert to be abrasive. He tends not to speak if he can avoid it, and prefers to let his actions do the talking for him. Those that see him in combat would see that he finds elation in the thrill of battle like a barbarian in old stories. People tend to confuse him with their motives, and liars have an easy time pulling the wool over his eyes provided their ulterior motives aren't common knowledge.
When it comes to his goals, or any goal Albert deems worth accepting as his own, he seems to screen out all distractions and chase it with a bloodhound's sense of determination. There are those that believe that Albert lives for the chase, though more often than not he finds it's conclusion fulfilling.
Few might claim Albert as a friend, though he would not really claim anyone has a friend of his. Friendship implies a connection that is difficult for Albert, and the idea of entering into such a relationship seems alien and unnecessary. His fierce sense of duty to his current cause tends to lead people to consider him one of their friends as it is difficult to see someone go to his lengths to accomplish a task for no other reason than to see it finished.
Father - Wilhelm Cross, Age 70, deceased
Mother - Marabelle McFadden-Cross, Age 67, deceased
Other Significant People - Sarah Cross, Daughter, Age 20, Current status unknown
Pets - None
Your History -
The early life of Albert Cross was a troubled one. As a child, he didn't spend time with his parents as they were both busy working to keep a household running so close to the crime-infested docks of Persephone. Doctors told them it was R.A.D., a disorder that prevents children from bonding and, if not monitored closely, could lead to a mild form of sociopathy. Such was the case as Albert got older and got his first job, a dock ruffian involved in illegal boxing for cashy money the Alliance wouldn't trace.
This garnered attention from men as rival combatants, but also from the occasional woman interested in the rugged masculinity of bare-knuckle fighters. With his emotional detachment issues, physical attention only fulfilled the enjoyment of the act rather than any hopes to find even a short term relationship. One of such fans resulted in the birth of his daughter, Sarah.
Considering Albert's nonexistent attachment to the mother of his child, or the child herself, Sophie Azlo opted to never tell Sarah the truth of her father, but rather that he was a soldier that was a part of the Alliance, and that he was stationed on a dangerous planet. When Sarah reached the curious age where she intended to go out in search of her father, Sophie told her that Albert had died in the Unification War.
The fights slowly escalated in severity until the normal patrons couldn't stomach the violence and a newer, slightly more sadistic clientele came to watch it. Attention was eventually gained by notable sadist Adelai Niska. Niska saw the talent and malice with which Albert could fight, and hired him on as an "acquisition consultant" who was paid to help in getting Niska's accounts settled, one way or another.
In one such instance, planetside had been attacked by Reavers before Albert was given the opportunity to track down his target. Being forced to fight his way to his ship, he took a Reaver short blade as something of a keepsake from the experience. This was not his only keepsake, as he was also left with a scar just under his collar bone from a Reaver harpoon launcher, as well as several blade scars and a mountain of medical bills.
It took Albert an extra year to exit the hospital and track down his target, though when he did Albert made an example of the man to make sure that those that owed his new employer money were aware that the Reavers did not stop Cross from his goal. This had something of a side effect in making many believe Albert to have "taken some of the blackness into himself and become it". Whether it is true or not, Albert decided to allow people to think as they will to make his job easier.
Seeing the Cortex videos of the louder messages Albert was asked to send, a very pleased Niska offered the nickname "Red Cross", after the amount of blood left around staining tables and walls in red. Eventually, Albert felt it was time to move on, and used a substantial sum of his earnings to 'buy out' his contract with the crimelord and attempt to make his own way as an independent. He moved back to Persephone, where he currently resides to wait for an opportunity to make a name for himself outside of the criminal underworld.
At the time that Albert left, he thought nothing of parting ways with Niska. That was, until the first two assassins showed up in a room he had at the docks and fired two rounds into his stomach that nearly cost him his life. Luckily, the tough old goat managed to fend them off and find a doctor that didn't ask too many questions who was able to piecemeal his guts back in place enough that he could keep on breathing. He's not quick to offer this information, as it doesn't suit his purpose of finding his own way in the world. Sadly, though, he knows the traps are out there, and that he could easily fall prey to them if he didn't keep alert.
What should we call you? - Dave
Roleplaying Experience - 15 years
Where did you find us? - An add from Finding Serenity's forum
Prove Yourself - Yes. Furvv
Post Script -
Other characters - No
How we should contact you - PM
Roleplay Example -
It was a cold night planetside on Persephone. Red sat enjoying a glass of some manner of clear alcohol he didn't bother to remember the name of. Tired eyes watched the folks playing billiards and then roamed to a fine looking pair of doxies. It was considered a moment before being dismissed. Truth be told, he started to miss the action of the old days. Time marched on, however, and it would be a few hours before the new ships arrived at the docks. If Red was lucky, he might find one that needed a hired gun and might have room for a giant of a man with a nasty looking blade. He left work at work, and right now he was in the mood to relax. An idea crept into his head about picking a fight with someone so that he had a reason to apply his skills. Alcohol replaced the adrenaline that he craved. Attention shifted to the clock as it slowly crept forward.
"Damn..."
Large, calloused hands would move to that tattered, haggard brown coat. Something to busy his hands more than to primp or preen. Few asked about the brown coat around Persephone anymore. They used to ask how someone could have survived all those wounds cut into the fabric. Most of them knew now that...whoever the coat had belonged to...hadn't.
SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this and she will happily hunt you down, rip out your spinal cord, and beat you to death with it if you steal her hard work and claim it as your own. especially since she will gladly share it with any and all who wish to use it, provided they leave her nice, little credit attached.
