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Radar

A blurry criminal.

0 · 344 views · located in Las Flores

a character in “Blurry Lines: Establishing Them”, as played by Lialore

Description

Image
⌈How much?⌋

Image


⌈Name⌋
Mica Joyland

⌈Age⌋
Visual Age: 22
Factual Age: 25

⌈Appearance⌋
Hair: Buzzed, dark brown.
Facial Hair: Sculpted and coppery.
Eyes: Golden.
Build: Wiry.
Skin Tone: Olive.
Height: 6ft3.
Weight: 170lbs.
Voice: Surprisingly low.
Handed: Right.
Body Markings: A birth mark shaped like an oval behind his left ear.
Scar Tissue: None.
Unique Body Features: Strangely long legs which strike one immediately as out of proportion.

[His appearance is very tidy. From his hair to his nails, both of which are carefully shaped into practical shortness. His clothing is similar; perfectly tailored, pristinely pressed and without a mark. Mainly his wardrobe consists of dark suits for daywear, though a section is allocated to less-conspicuous, more casual outfits for his night work.

Mica’s features could be described as more on the feminine side, with long lashes and high cheekbones – something which he was teased about. When he was younger he used to keep his hair long which only fuelled the taunting further and gained him a reputation as a ‘pretty boy’. Now, he keeps his head shaven, and has done so for so long that the skin of his scalp is no longer paler than that on his face.

Often he comes across as quite intimidating. He’s taller than most, but other than that he isn’t physically imposing with his average build and slightly narrow shoulders. It’s the air in which he moves, the confidence in his step and the arrogant tilt to his jaw which can discourage many.]

⌈Sexuality⌋
Bisexual

⌈Personality⌋
Motivation:Money.
Fears:People finding out his secret.
Goals:To find stability for his family and to make something of himself, although he hasn’t decided on whose side yet.
Positive Traits: Stealthy in the physical, not being noticed sense + Dark humour + A way with negotiation
Negative Traits: Often bad at hiding things – Prone to losing his temper and being petty - Unreliable
[Mica was once a very shy and weak-willed adolescent. Slowly, that vulnerability turned to stone as each year which passed grew more difficult. He was surrounded by bigger, bolder and quite frankly crueller people who were quick to exploit his weaknesses. And so he adapted to his environment. He would’ve been described as withdrawn and uncooperative.

However, after removing himself from the causes he began to emerge and return to his more natural behaviour. Being self-autonomous gave back his humour and joking light-heartedness. He found his passion for reading again, mainly on the topic of political philosophy.

He’s quite impulsive and tends not to think things through as well as needed. He relies heavily on his power, expecting the biggest threats to come from those who are powered. Yet he’s as vulnerable to ordinary bullets as is any man.

Over recent years his ego has seen a growth spurt and he’s arguably become unbearable to be around. The more money he gains; the higher his reputation climbs; the more egotistical he becomes. Before, his motivation was to support his family. But the situation has now gotten out of hand and the criminal underworld has once again corrupted him. Only this time, he’s not the timid teenager he was before, but a sly, slithery man who is driven by his own greed.]


⌈Relationships⌋
All of Mica’s friendships are founded in a mutual appreciation of sarcasm and his associates in the belief that they have something he can use to better himself. He has never had a very close friend since childhood, as he cut himself off, leaving him now somewhat emotionally stunted. He’s had sexual relations with various men and women but was never able to make an emotional connection. Perhaps his relationships could be developed over time, but he’s too indulged in himself - too far gone to care.

The only people he truly cares about are his family members - being; his mother, father, grandparents and younger sister (although her whereabouts is currently unknown to him).They are all financially dependent on him.

⌈Power⌋
Mica’s power is the ability to detect other people’s power and judge their proximity – like radar (hence the name). Able to cover a miles radius and tell the closeness of a powered-person by the intensity of the sensation; his power extremely useful. However, it has its limitations: it can’t tell what the power is, or how strong it is, or whether the force is friendly or enemy; it simply tells him that someone’s near.

It’s difficult to describe how it feels. The representation of the area around him is not a visual one, but more like an extra empirical sense which comes naturally to him. It’s something he’s constantly aware of, whether on duty, completing criminal work, or simply walking through the street; he’ll be able to tell who has a power and who does not. This is the main reason for his employment both in the police force and the criminal underworld. Mica detects threats from potentially extraordinary threats and his warning is valuable.

⌈Equipment⌋
Mica keeps only a handgun on him at all times. He also has a pair of hi-tech audio communicators used to feed information when he’s working and a modern mobile phone. As a member of the police force he has access to their weaponries.

⌈Strengths⌋
Directions and general geography
Mathematics
Rhetoric and manipulation
Enterprising
Pretending to care


⌈Weaknesses⌋
Lack of general compassion, and the ability to truly understand other people’s opinions
Impulsiveness
Arrogance
Close combat; general lack of physical strength and training
Bad eyesight


⌈Home⌋
Having saved up a large amount of money, which is still growing, Mica currently owns three properties. One is a large house on the outskirts of the city where his family live. Another is his own apartment, which is located in central Las Flores. The rent is extortionate. Finally, he owns an abandoned warehouse in the west of the city which currently he uses for meetings on criminal business. Mice often rents out hotel rooms, though, as he is sometimes paranoid that he is being watched by someone he cannot detect through his power.

⌈History⌋
Mica was born to a poverty-ridden family who resided in the inner-city. His mother worked part time as a cleaner whilst his father stayed at home due to an incident with a powered person which left him brain damaged and partially paralysed. Each day was a struggle, not only money-wise, but there were other complications involving Mica’s sibling who was eventually removed from the household by the authorities.

He was expected to start work as soon as possible. And unfortunately, he found employment of sorts easily in the criminal underworld with his power. By the age of 14 he was involved with the most notorious drug-trafficking organisation, working on the ground. He was his gang’s punching bag; unable to protect himself, yet valuable enough to usually only be battered verbally. Becoming withdrawn, he was reduced to not much more than a shadow.

Six years passed until something happened that changed his life.

It had been an especially rough day for Mica, now aged twenty. He’d been assigned a new higher to report to. And the woman was younger than him. He was bitter, watching her swagger on in front with him in tow, stalking along the pavement like she owned the city. Her snatched authority made him feel like a failure. Darkness was trying its best, but the early evening was still reasonably light; only the streetlamps in the alleys were flickering to life. So he was feeling relatively relaxed. They were heading towards a deserted part of town, a part he’d visited before, where deals went down often. This happened to be a particularly big one. The whole process was routine, but this new girl had a spark of excitement about her. He couldn’t remember ever being like that himself.

Continuing to mull over his dislike for her, they entered the flame-ruined neighbourhood where they were to meet some more team members before making their way to the specific building that had been pinpointed for the exchange. Burnt-out houses and flats loomed all around, headstones to this giant black cemetery where thousands upon thousands must have lived. The fire had roared for a full day before it was extinguished – and not by those who were paid to care, but these so-called vigilante, superhero types. Mica snorted as he recalled, earning a confused glare from his new ‘boss.’

They met their team: they joked, they smoked. Then they moved off to the agreed meeting point. He sank down onto a metal beam which would have once held up a huge construction to wait, alone, as their customers hadn’t arrived yet. He observed his so-called ‘team mates’ with an expression drenched in dislike.

For so long he had been treated as a means in everything. And he had gained nothing. He was an asset, a privilege to be had; yet he was treated like dirt. Like dirt on the bottom of their lowlife feet. Helping his family had always been his priority. Now, they had a house. But they had lost him. A grimace began to twist his mouth as his gaze lingered on the girl, his new higher. And then there were people like her. What had she been through? Had she been controlled and constrained so much, as he had? So much that he no longer resembled his old-self, but had been twisted into a tool? He watched her joking and flirting. He doubted it. It was unfair.

He boiled away, bubbling silently.

Then he sensed it. Someone, a powered someone, was approaching. His head jerked upwards from its original position of a defeated slump. And another. Another someone. Mica’s chest seemed to tighten in panic. His sudden change in demeanour passed unnoticed by the others who had been acting as though he didn’t exist for the entire time. And another someone. Four. It was his job to say something. But his recent, sour musings had caused him to formulate another plan. And another someone.

Five people with powers were approaching. They came in from different angles, closing in on the group that mulled about outside the burnt out parking complex. They were moving quite fast. Probably running. It’d only be a few minutes. It was a trap.

The girl who he hated without knowing finally became aware of his edgy behaviour.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, merely glancing over her shoulder, her tone was agitated rather than concerned.
He didn’t meet her eyes, only shifted uncomfortably and tried to appear more relaxed.

“Nothing” he replied.


That night, Mica didn’t do his job. Five vigilantes rushed the group of dealers who spent their lives working on intoxicating the city to their benefit. Two were killed, all were badly injured. The attack was planned, and specifically targeted on a team member who was a criminal in other senses too; a murderer, an assassin of the of the gang’s leader.

Mica escaped.

He then left the city for two years, scared for his own safety. He poured most of his savings into a fund for persuading anyone sent to hurt his family to not, and established guards and a spy of his own. The measures were defensive, not offensive. And they worked. Or have so far, he’s still paranoid of a future attack.
He spent those two years not doing much. Mostly he read, and travelled, and drank. On his return to Las Flores he had changed; physically and mentally. His hair was gone but more importantly, his mind was at ease. Mica began to pursue a career in the police force. Not because he believed in the cause, but he was running low on funds. Due to his power, he had an extremely easy time making it through ‘training’. However, it was not as he expected. The police were more corrupted than he could have imagined. And it was actually with the help of a colleague that he started his new enterprise: offering his power for hire.

Now, he’s involved in the criminal world again, but as his own higher. He’s a changed man who is gathering momentum.

So begins...

Radar's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Mako Senshin Character Portrait: Radar Character Portrait: Ledger
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#, as written by Lialore
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“Please” he’d moaned, his tone laced with pain. Red circled his eyes, dribbled down his cheeks, patched his nostrils and streaked down his neck from the insides of his ears. “I’m telling the truth.”

The officer was crouched, elbows on knees and gun in hand. He was face to face with this so-called victim who was stained with his own blood, for once. Though, when his own crimes were tallied they were far greater than those of his attacker. He believed him; of course. There really was no other explanation that he could see and these low-lives had called the emergency services in desperation as they found themselves deafened and blinded until their blood pressure had declined some, but by then it was too late. Saving their reputation hadn’t been as important as saving their lives. Besides, she’d already been detected by their special Radar. The police had arrived at the abandoned warehouse in a roar of sirens, along with medical help who they’d ordered to keep at a distance until they’d dealt with the three delinquents. This apparent force of justice was clearly corrupt – they held back the help that the men needed, the paramedics were to stay inside their van whilst the officer questioned them at gunpoint, after a kicking and taunting.

“The truth?” The officer jeered, pushing his face closer to the big-time launderer who shied away some, pressing his lips together in case a whimper escaped. “You expect us to believe a little girl with nout’ but some craft materials fucked you up this badly?” A chorus of somewhat nervous snickers from his team members echoed through the hollow structure which was their shoddy arena. The concrete floor was splattered with blood. The leading officer lurched to his full height and took a step backwards, placing himself directly in a sticky puddle of the stuff. He bore down on the ‘victim’; he was at least the officer’s personal victim. “And you tried to shoot her? Missed a bit, didn’t you?”

“I told you she had a power. S-she made my insides. It
”

“He’s telling the truth man” one of the others spoke up, his handcuffs rattling as he tried to shuffle forwards to plead their case. He didn’t understand that they were simply being used for sport. “We weren’t doing anything, man, she just turned up and
 she had this power.” He licked his lips nervously. “You need to get her, yo. You don’t know who else she’s gonna
”

A single shot was fired into the air up above. The sound made them all start and the metallic ringing had everyone cringing. Silence fell. The three victimised criminals were all looking at the floor, yet even the other officers seemed sheepish as their higher lowered his gun, his expression one of agitation.

“Load ‘em up” He ordered. They had enough on these bastards to keep them in for years, but he knew better, they’d be out soon enough; through bribery, most likely. And so, they were carted out of the warehouse towards the police vehicles, not bothering to object to the unruly force which would ignore their sufferings and instead take advantage of the situation. The vigilante they’d described would be caught sooner or later, maybe she’d get her spot in the light, on the news, as she was lining up to be lynched - but these men had bigger prices on their heads. And that’s what they cared about.


- - - - - - - - - - * - - - - - - - - - -



Mica had been watching his partner devour his burger with a sort of intrigued disgust. He chomped along, grease shining on his pudgy lips, onions and sauce escaping down his neck and setting up on the front of his uniform. The noise he made was like some sort of ravenous, snotty pig that had just been tossed last weeks left-overs, its snout snuffling in glee. It was so obscene to Mica that he’d left his food in the bag and watched instead, not even attempting to hide his horror.

“Could you not
”
“What?” Bux, his partner barked with a grin which only made Mica want to cringe as there was cheese holding on to his teeth. Bux found the kids obsessive little tendencies hilarious.
“You’re fucking disgusting.”
“You got it.” He replied cheerily.

They were sat in the parking lot of some rundown shopping complex listening to the radio and waiting to be called upon. Sure, there were things happening: the police line reported a bank robbery, some street fighting down south, too-obvious dealing downtown, and some other small-scale disturbances across Las Flores. But Bux and Mica were a special, tiny branch of the force. Bux may have been a half-decent officer in his youth but now he was 50, balding and fat. He could still drive like a champ, though. Mica, on the other hand, was shiny and new. He might have been useless when it came to enforcing the law, but he had something else to offer


“Buxton. Joyland. You reading?” the voice blared through the communication device built into the dashboard of their pseudo police vehicle. A navy, inconspicuous thing of moderate quality.
“Like a bookworm” Bux replied through a mouthful of burger.
The voice on the other end seemed to hesitate, as if they were about to ask why he sounded so muffled. Instead, it continued; “Alright. Vigilante attack, Mica?”
Mica shifted into a more upright position in the passenger seat, his interest finally stimulated.
“Direction?”


- - - - - - - - - - * - - - - - - - - - -



They bombed the way that’d been indicated. Bux had stowed his half-eaten burger on the back seats and had made a half-hearted attempt to clean himself up before doing what he did best; driving like a maniac. That was, until Mica caught the trail they were looking for.

The city outskirts rushed by on the other side of the window pane which he stared through, quite unseeing. Mica was concentrating. They’d been told they’d have time to catch up in time. She was wounded; shot. And this was so new and shiny and so definitely not useless: as they sped through the city Mica was able to detect anyone, anyone who had a power. They flittered into his perception, invisible dots on his invisible radius – an invisible Radar system. It’s difficult to explain, a sixth sense of sorts, something which came naturally to him. If he wanted to, Mica could pinpoint most of the powered people in the city on a criss-cross journey of the entire city. But, to the police, that was hypocritical, beyond even their immorality. The dots came and went, most of them stationary, none of them likely to be the vigilante who’d attacked the criminals in the warehouse.

Bux drove them (more carefully, now there was more traffic) along the route suggested, a road which led more or less directly from the quieter area of abandoned warehouses towards the city centre. Still concentrating. He could detect nothing here. And then, suddenly, there it was. A dot; in the best way he could describe it. It was moving reasonably fast into town, whoever it was had a vehicle of some kind. A getaway.

Mica ordered Bux about, giving him directions until they were close enough that he could pinpoint the person he was detecting by sight. As they moved into the more cramped, populated areas, the dots were more frequent. But Mica kept his focus on the one he’d snatched hold of when travelling from the crime scene; the one they’d been ordered to trail, but not harm. There she was, stuck in the same swell of traffic as them. Female, small, he wasn’t close enough to catch many more details but intuition told him that this was the one.

“Follow” Mica said, his tone showing a sudden authority. It was obvious he was in charge. “But keep your distance, don’t let her see. She might lead us to a base of some sorts.” Bux obliged, well. They turned down a road just in time to see the little biker disappear around the corner into an alley. Not that they needed such tangible knowledge. Mica had a good hold of her on his Radar. Bux edged the car to a halt on the opposite side of the road, giving them a view across the tarmac and down the alley.

Craning his neck, Mica was able to see upon a gaudy sign: ‘CafĂ© Mystigue’. And inside
 he was quite shocked to detect quite a cluster of his dots. His eyes narrowed, face almost pressed against the glass of the window, which was luckily tinted, hiding his intense calculating from and outside watchers.

“Going in?” Bux asked.
“No. Wait.”
“We could be here for a while.”
“I don’t think so. She’s hurt. If she can get proper treatment in there then it could be a base. Or at least dodgy enough to raise suspicion. Especially if they don’t call an ambulance. And you know how they love a good raid.”
Bux frowned at Mica’s referral to the force as ‘they’. He was sometimes disconcerted by the way the kid talked about his own in such a mocking way. He tended to shrug it off and assure himself that it was Mica’s strange humour.

They didn’t have to wait long. A swanky Ford stopped close to the entrance. They both noted this, admiring the car as they did so. The woman who had stepped out soon returned, and sure enough, with her was the little biker they’d tailed from the warehouse. Mica scalded himself for thinking about her so fondly. She’d nearly killed those men. But hell, why should he care? In fact, he found it quite amusing, so amusing that he snickered. That earned him a disapproving look from Bux. He wasn’t surprised to see that the tall, dark-skinned woman who accompanied her also produced a dot in his mind. His lips screwed up thoughtfully as they climbed back into the car. Vigilantes, he thought. Obviously.

“After them?” Bux wondered.
“No. They’ve got powers. Don’t want to be barbequed, do you? Report their car to highers. Doubt they’ll do anything though, pretty sure they just sent us on this chase to make sure we’re not falling asleep on the job. This place is
 odd, though.”
The old officer rubbed his wobbly chin.
“You really don’t strain yourself, do you?”
When the Ford had pulled away, Mica flashed Bux a dry smile and opened the door, stepping out to light up. As he smoked, he surveyed the Café.

“Fancy a coffee?”

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