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Strung

Leader of the Frighteners, a Legion team.

0 · 415 views · located in Klein's Office

a character in “Dark War”, as played by Order Knight

Description

Legionnaire Mercenary Organization Member:

Name: Leos Klein
Code Name & Number: "Strung" 08
Class & Rank: Experimental Weapons Specialist, Colonel

Age: 59
Gender: Male
Physical Characteristics: Leos Klein is six-foot-two, and weighs roughly two hundred twenty four pounds. He has a fairly slim build, but due to the nature of his past job experience, he is still fairly well toned despite his age. His skin has an olive color to it, and his trimmed hair is a dim, dark gray. His body is gnarled and scarred with the marks of his previous missions, of which he boasts over three hundred- and nearly a one hundred percent success rate.
Mental Characteristics: Klein is a brilliant tactician and strategist, as well as a vocal squad leader. As he climbed through the ranks of the LMO, he proved time and time again that his skills in leadership would lead to greater things. However, his mind has also deteriorated greatly; being one of the few crazy enough to get four Neurological implants, Klein's mind and body have become overstimulated on a daily basis. It's only a matter of time until he snaps, a fact that his superiors keep a close eye on him for, and one that he is well aware of himself.
Advantages: Strengthened abilities by way of Implants, tactical and strategic abilities, charismatic leadership.
Disabilities: Age is beginning to show despite the implants, and when they are off he is likened to a crippled old man. His mind too is deteriorating.

Military Background: Strung has been a member of several paramilitaries around the globe, and a few official armies. His first official assignment was in the US Army at the age of nineteen, where he served for three years before leaving the country. He became a Russian citizen later in life and hopped around various mercenary and bounty hunting organizations before settling his way into the Russian Spetsnaz. Spending another five years as a member of that organization, he once again left the country to join and subsequently leave various mercenary groups and paramilitaries around the world, gathering a small following of loyal men and women that he began calling the Frighteners. Upon joining the Legion Mercenary Organization, his Frighteners have dispersed into various areas, largely disappearing from the radar- all save for Klein, who openly remains a member.

Civilian Background: Klein has scarcely been a 'civilian.' He was born in central America, and his family quickly moved to North America following a governmental dispute in their home country. His father worked long hours to keep his family afloat, and eventually decided he could not take it anymore and left them. His mother committed suicide when he was twelve, and he was forced to live off the streets and seek work to pay for his meager education and citizenship until he was old enough to enlist in the US Army.

Job History: Worked various small jobs until he was able to join the military. He has been a soldier ever since.

LMO Assignment History: A full LMO record can be provided by request.

Known Skills: Leadership and large battlefield command. He was a good shot before his over-use of implants, which he now relies on for combat- these however are powerful implants that increase his skills exponentially.

Neurological Implant Slots: 5

Current Kit;
Armor: Powered Armor; CS-89
Weapons: XP-02 'Core Breaker' Bolt Pistol, G36KE or XP-22 Plasma Rifle
Gear: CS-89 Combat Helmet, Fragmentation Grenades, Heavy Combat Knife

So begins...

Strung's Story

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Strung sits in his chair behind the desk, juggling a knife over his fingers as he waits for his Sergeants to enter the room, or anyone else that had something to do with him at the moment. He was looking at the small screen on his desk, which apparently he was using to keep track of the proceedings in the room. "Come in," he says loudly enough for her to hear.

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Strung nods a bit. "Hm, yes. Come in. Take a seat," he replies, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the desk. He takes some of his papers out and sifts through them. "Private Chan-Zero-Three," he remarks neutrally.

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Strung reclines slightly, juggling the knife over his fingers idly. He seems to recognize her apparent intensity, letting her stew for a few moments. Eventually, he speaks. "I suppose you're wondering why I had you brought in here," he begins. "Two things. First, your helmet. Put it on the desk, please."

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Strung nods. "Of course," he replies, sounding a bit offended even. "That is not the reason I brought you in here. But it is a matter of curiosity for me," he continues more evenly, flicking his knife up and catching it, slipping it into the sheath on his chest. He then picks the helmet up and looks it over. "I assume you built this thing in your back yard," he continues.

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Strung chuckles a bit. "I respect that," he says perhaps surprisingly. "Not many can say they have a hand in making their own kit." He looks inside it and frowns a bit. "Is that a shirt?" He pokes around inside, though noticeably tries not to damage the presumably delicate interior that matched her head perfectly.

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Strung chuckles a bit, apparently keeping an eye on her reactions. "It doesn't do well to peeve a subordinate," he says, placing her helmet back in front of her. "Even if she does get my rank wrong. Now, the second reason I brought you in here," he begins. He stands up, walking around his desk. "You were reportedly called out by one of the Sergeants as the most likely to be the weakest. Did you gather why that is?"

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Strung does not respond to that immediately, humming with interest and rubbing his chin momentarily. "I want to know where everyone's heads are at. He seems to take your rudeness as a possible weakness. Insubordination. Who is to say what it is? But, I want to know where everyone thinks they are, as well, somewhat. So, I want your opinion. Who among those did you think was strongest, and who the weakest? You can say yourself for either, if you so desire."

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Strung chuckles. "That's a good answer, Private. And you're right. You are both the strongest and weakest person you will ever know, because you're the only one you know inside and out." He turns to her, being behind her chair at this point. "I would also point out that you're good to not name others before getting to know them, but first impressions are still valuable to me." He walks back to his desk, snagging a long, thin blade from his wall as he goes. "That is all I needed of you. Do you have any questions for me, before I let you go?"

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Strung chuckles. "This is a dog eat dog business, Private. I need to weed out those that aren't able to take it. Those who are deemed the strongest will probably end up getting over confident and getting killed. Those who are weakest, under confident and killed. But if they can take critcism or compliments without letting either go to their heads, they will be what I need."

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Strung smiles at Rachell, a genuine smile. "You've shown me what I am looking for, and have set the bar for what I am to expect of you." He chuckles, then his smile wanes and he gestures to the door. "If there is nothing else, then you may leave. Tell the next in line they may enter," he says with a hint of amusement on his voice.

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Strung nods to Sparks. "At ease, Sergeant," he says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk as he looks at the sword he was holding. "Take a seat please."

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Strung can't help but chuckle at him. "I said at ease. Relax, Sergeant." He flips the sword over and, holding the blunt side, offers the hilt to him. "I suppose you're wondering why I called for the Sergeants?"

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Strung nods understandably- he knew that fairly well himself. "Because I was tired of holding it," he responds simply, and with a lack of humor on his voice. "Well, tell me; what's your idea on why I brought you? One thing I'm sure you and the rest of the regiment will learn soon, is I am very curious."

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Strung nods in response. "Not bad. That's a good part of why I brought you in here," he admits, picking the sword up and standing from his desk. "To that point, tell me first of your opinions on your fellows." He begins walking towards the wall where he had taken the sword down initially.

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Strung places the sword back on the wall and turns to him, a grin on his face. "Permission granted, soldier. Speak your mind." He clasps his hands behind his back, walking towards his desk again, though keeping his eyes on the man. He expected he was about to get 'chewed out' based on his response.

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Strung nods as he takes a seat behind his desk, steepling his fingers as he takes in his explanation. "You are right," he says, "It is very flawed." He pauses for a moment, his face expressionless. "Essentially, Sergeant, I expect everyone to acknowledge themselves as weak- your way of thinking is well in that regard. Strength is entirely relative. All it takes is one bullet to the head to put someone down, regardless of how 'strong' they are," he goes on. "This is an exercise in criticism. If I told you that you were the strongest out of all the other soldiers, you would have, generally, two options; use that knowledge to uphold my standards, or take it as a compliment and simply stay your course. If I told you that you were the weakest, again, you would have options. Become depressive and weaken yourself further, or possibly work to improve yourself. Ideally, however, in either case, you simply do not care." He smiles a bit. "Words are meaningless, but they have power over so many. To allow yourself to be swayed by words alone, especially when being graded or grading yourself, is a detriment. Anyone who takes the word of a superior or even a fellow soldier as gospel to work off of will be flawed until they find themselves." He explains this at length, looking Zane in the eye the whole time. "I don't like it when my soldiers die. They will die eventually, however. Most won't be under my command when that time comes, but it will happen. I work hard to make sure that they are prepared for what I send at them though. That they learn not only how to work as a team, but survive as a person."

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Strung chuckles deeply. "I appreciate criticism, Sergeant. I thrive on it. How else will I lead my troops, if not knowing where I stand with them? There's a good reason I have a casualty rate of less than 20% in my groups." He grins slightly at Zane. "Besides, I told you you could speak your mind. I'm not going to remove you for taking that right and running with it."