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Miles Caal

It's still magic even if you know how it's done.

0 · 169 views · located in Infinity City

a character in “Neon Streets”, as played by nonconformingrole

Description

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"It's still magic even if you know how it's done."
It's still magic even if you know how it's done.-Terry Pratchett

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i d e n t i t y
xxxxx|| Name || Miles Issac Caal
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xxxxx|| Nicknames || Bliss: this isn't so much a nickname as it is the only thing many of his customers to ask for. Most of them don't know Miles by name, only the name of his most popular product. He often says that if he would've known they were going to start calling him Bliss, he would have picked a different name.
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xxxxx|| Gender || cismale
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xxxxx|| Age || 32
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xxxxx|| Birthday || February 10
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xxxxx|| Sexuality || pansexual
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xxxxx|| Composition || Human, with numerous technological advancements, but as he possesses mostly neurotech, most wouldn't consider him a cyborg.
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a p p e a r a n c e

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xxxxx|| Height || 5'10"
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xxxxx|| Weight || 155 lbs
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xxxxx|| Hair Color || Black
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xxxxx|| Eye Color || Brown
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xxxxx|| Identifying Features || Miles has a small port behind his left ear, most people who use neurotech don't have permanent ports, but since Miles so often changes his out and tests new tech on himself he's left one in his head permanently. His skin occasionally comes alight with a neon light that seems to use his veins as a highway, spreading from there and fading away as it runs a regular diagnostic of his physical health.
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xxxxx|| Description || Miles is a handsome man, and he knows it. With a strong jaw, intense eyes, and a charming smile, he tends to be able to captivate people when he chooses. His physicality is fairly average, but generally fit. He keeps his naturally curly hair long enough to curl and cascade just down his forehead (someone told him once that it was dreamy, and he's kept the style ever since), and he tends to keep just a touch of stubble on his face. He dresses more for functionality than fashion; lots of pockets, fitted enough not to get in the way, but not so tight that he can't comfortably move. He doesn't have a separate wardrobe outside of work, so he tends to always look the part of a nanotech engineer.
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p e r s o n a l i t y

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Miles is charming; with a smile, a well timed joke, and appropriate eye contact, he seems to be able to draw anyone in that he wants to. He’s honed this to make people more comfortable to have him literally tinkering around in their head. It’s mostly fake, however. Generally, in personal interactions, he is brief, to-the-point, and very serious. He carefully guards his words, his secrets, and himself. He never speaks without considering his words, and is always careful not to reveal too much. He tends to deal with problems, and people, pragmatically, having decided when he was young not to hope for anything better than what he sees in front of him. He can come off as somewhat cold, and there are rumors that he’s more machine than human, and is losing his ability to relate to people.

Friends, however, know that he is not without his kindness. Though most wouldn’t call him friendly, exactly, he does show that he cares in other ways. He’s protective, quick to offer help, and asks only the questions he absolutely needs answers to. With strangers and acquaintances, while he's not one to pry, (he knows the value of secrets and privacy), he’s seemed to master the art of gentle questioning. He thinks it important to know at least a little about everyone he regularly interacts with, not to hold information against others, but so that he knows if and when he needs to cut ties and move on.

Miles isn’t always a quick thinker, but he is a creative thinker. From figuring out how to get his tech to work, to staying under the radar enough that the big tech companies don’t come for his head, to keeping the effects of his drugs from negatively counteracting with neurotech. He always has to come up with a clever solution to his problems. He doesn’t think himself a genius of any sort, but also tends to not like hearing any sort of feedback from others. He doesn’t take either compliments or criticism well, no matter how genuine or well meaning. This has made him a hard person to work directly with, but he tries not to be a nightmare collaborator, so long as he has his own space to work.

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f l a v o r

xxxxx|| Likes || Spicy food, neon lights, being left alone, simulations, bio-especially neuro-tech, sunshine, jellyfish, bread.
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xxxxx|| Dislikes || Sweets, the cold, the heat, alcohol (though he's often stuck with it), talking about himself, his family name (or, rather, the judgement that comes with it).
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xxxxx|| Fears || Miles is afraid of the dark, he's afraid of garnering too much attention from the corporations or police and being shut down, and he is terrified of losing what money and possessions little he has left. He is also deeply afraid of contracting illness; he believes his mother had complications from unregulated biotech, which caused her to develop the mysterious illness that so quickly took her life.
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xxxxx|| Secrets || Miles' biggest secret is BL155, a short acting series of neurotech designed to give people a escape to their ideal world, as well as his more... traditional biotech. Doesn't put his actual name to any of it, though, because he wants his customers to trust him, and he doesn't want to be slapped with any fines for creating off-market tech.xx
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m i s c e l l a n e o u s

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xxxxx|| Abilities || Miles is gifted at creating, upgrading, and (out of necessity) installing neurological tech. He has implanted a number of tech into himself, mostly with functions to assist him in his work. Tech to shorten reaction time, stop the nervous tremors in his hands, help his eyes pick out small details, among others. He has other biotech: nanobots implanted in his body to do a twice daily diagnostics scan
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xxxxx|| Talents || Miles is intelligent, a quick learner, he speaks four languages, and he's charming when he wants to be.
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xxxxx|| Strengths || Miles is (generally) a decent friend, a fast worker, and dedicated to whatever he puts his mind to.
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xxxxx|| Weaknesses || He's paranoid, can't stay still, doesn't trust easily, and occasionally has a hard time expressing himself emotionally.
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h i s t o r y

Miles was born to Edison and Agate Caal, the only child of their union. The couple struggled to conceive at all, and when their son was born, they spoiled and lavished him as only the richest of Infinity can. Edison took control of his father’s successful company shortly before Miles had been born. The company was founded on honest principals, but every year from it’s conception, Caal Industries became darker, less moral, more greedy. It wasn’t long before it was indistinguishable from any other corporation in Infinity. Miles’ father was out to make as much money as possible, so he pushed tech out without testing, with minimal troubleshooting. People got hurt, it caused an uproar in the city.

They lost most of their money, were violently ejected from their penthouse, and though they didn’t have to live on the ground floor, neither of his parents had lived so far down in the city before. The sun did occasionally shine on the middle class, but to those used to living at the top of the world, it felt like hell. Miles was only two when his entire life changed.

His father couldn’t find work, and refused to do anything he felt was beneath him. His mother had no real skills, she’d been raised and groomed to be nothing more than a trophy. Their money was slowly chipped away, and by the time Miles was a teenager, there was barely enough left to stay in their modest home. Miles was able to get jobs here and there, he started out doing back-alley neurotech installations, drug runs, anything he could get his hands on. It was hard finding a reputable job with his family name, but he made it work, and he never told his mother that what he did was illegal.

He was seventeen when his mother got sick. One day, she was the picture of health, then she had a headache. She was dead in less than a week. The savings quickly ran out, and Miles could afford the bills on what he made. The last conversation he had with his father was a bitter fight, and he hasn’t spoken to the man since. Doesn’t know where he is, says he doesn’t care.

Miles did a lot of odd jobs trying to stay afloat, but his real passion was always biotech. He hated the way the drugs he sold affected people, and sought out to try to manufacture one that didn’t have such harsh side-effects. The concept of using the same technology in the neurotech he tinkered with came to him, and he rolled with it. It’s been several years since he worked up the first batch of BL155 model one, and he’s only made it more vivid, more realistic, and with more mood altering properties since. He thinks it’s safe, tests it on himself, and feels pretty comfortable selling it. BL155 isn’t his favorite thing to make, but it pays the bills, and it funds his other projects.


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writer: nonconformingrole - fc: Oscar Isaac - hex code: #35404F


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So begins...

Miles Caal's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Hallis Character Portrait: James Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Faith Walton Character Portrait: Angel Edwards Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N. Character Portrait: Essie (SE-5984) Character Portrait: H.A.R.L.I.E Character Portrait: Kylar Worthington Character Portrait: Ezekiel Cartwright Character Portrait: John Cross

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M I L E S CAAL
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miles' home/workshop • outfit#35404F
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A hundred years of peace and prosperity in Infinity City. That’s what was being celebrated. Not everyone cared about the celebrations; the parade would be held on the upper streets and floating walkways, so over half of the population wouldn’t even be able to see it unless they tuned into the transmission. For most of the city, this was just another bank holiday. The words “peace and prosperity” just didn’t ring true to those at ground level, it was just another day to be reminded of all they didn’t have. At least it wasn’t raining.

The decorations had been up for weeks (well, closer to ground level they’d only bothered to reprogram some of the signage to indicate the big day), and they’d really pulled out all the stops. There was no way to miss it, with a reminder around every corner. There would be parties, television specials, the news would probably run a story about it, as if the whole thing wasn’t just an empty celebration.

Well, that’s how Miles felt, anyway.

He’d seen the worst and the best that Infinity had to offer, and he wasn’t particularly impressed. His family had been built up and held to unrealistic standards, once. Lived high above the city. He didn’t remember living up there, among the clouds, but he still got glimpses of it occasionally. His work was one of the worst-kept secrets in town, and he built tech for all sorts. Sometimes he thought that he would have liked to have grown up higher in the dizzying expanse of the city, he felt a little robbed of it. His father’s greed had stolen the life he may have had. He could still craft his tech, though. He loved creating, using technology to manipulate the way he could think and see, and even feel. He didn’t mind the extra money some people were willing to pay to buy it off the market, either. Some people had a hard time trusting that companies were actually following regulation, and Miles understood that. It was easier to get back at a single guy than a faceless corporation if your tech failed you.

Business carried on as usual, for Miles. When you work all alone, a day off is rare. Even more rare when the nature of your work requires that you constantly do more work or you’ll lose everything and end up right back where you started.

Maybe that was the paranoia talking.

Either way, he liked to keep himself busy. Busy hands, busy mind, not as much time to think about everything that could go wrong.

He was just finishing up with a client, he’d had to learn how to install neurotech out of necessity; turns out, people who bought back alley tech often didn’t have a safe way to install it. He hated doing it, but knowing how definitely made it easier for him to test his pieces (mostly on himself), so he didn’t complain.

He liked to keep the television (at this point, it was almost just called that out of tradition) going in the other room, it provided some background noise, and blocked out most of the sounds of his work. Everyone on the street knew what he did, but it kept the police out of his business, and that was most of what he cared about. After finishing up his install, he noticed a familiar voice from the other room. Cordelia Hallis was a familiar voice (and face) to most everyone in Infinity. Miles just couldn’t stand to hear, or see, her anymore. Not when he could help it. He’d have to remember to turn it off.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Hallis Character Portrait: James Character Portrait: Miles Caal Character Portrait: Astrid Character Portrait: Faith Walton Character Portrait: Angel Edwards Character Portrait: H.A.V.E.N. Character Portrait: Ozric Slade Character Portrait: Essie (SE-5984) Character Portrait: Yuri Capra Character Portrait: Kylar Worthington Character Portrait: Ezekiel Cartwright

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"A S T R I D"xxAS-7210
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but am i just a broken machine?
androidx|xoutfitx|x#DC403B
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.xxxxxxxxxxwith all the layers of dust.
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Astrid knew she needed to get out of the way, people were still bumping into her left and right; some were leaving, others were trying to get a better look at one thing or another. It was overwhelming, trying to pinpoint an opening so she could just get out of everyone’s way. She was always causing problems, wasn’t she? Maybe that’s why everyone sends me away.

She had just found a way, and just needed a moment to get through, when it happened. There was a loud boom, and a lot of screaming. Suddenly, all she seemed to be able to process was the fear of everyone around her. She quickly looked around: people were running away, now. Maybe back home. Maybe just as far away as they could get. There was another explosion. It wasn’t safe here, was it? She needed to go, but the fear everyone felt… It was just her programming, but she felt the intense need to protect the humans around. They were frightened, and it was only getting worse with every passing moment.

She didn’t know if it was being broadcast over the speakers, or just in her mind, but she heard an overwhelming chorus of, “Stay calm. We have everything under control.” It didn’t look like everything was under control, but Astrid knew that was what they always said. If the powers that be couldn’t control a situation, they’d lose control of everything. Still, in control or not, there wasn’t anything Astrid could do. She wasn’t well-suited to crisis situations; she was a domestic droid.

Astrid caught sight of a little girl, presumably separated from her family, and all thoughts of retreating to the relative safety of the seedy underbelly of the city left her mind. Suddenly the only thing that felt right was helping the child. Caring for children was what she was programmed for, after all.

Then there were more people, who Astrid only recognised as being associates of the Alpire Corporation. What did they manufacturer? Weapons? They had arrived very quickly, Astrid thought, and immediately started cordoning off areas, ushering people away and to different places of the city. “Don’t worry,” They said, “We’re here to help you.” Maybe they’d been hired as private security.

There was some sort of weapon fire from somewhere above. Astrid couldn’t place it, but the Alpire Corp representatives certainly used the moment to keep corralling people along. Keeping order, it seemed, was the top priority.

Astrid was getting swept along with the crowd, weapons were still firing from, what sounded like, all directions. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Astrid could hardly tell if the person in question was a human under all of their armor. “There's a warehouse nearby where-” Then the person in question seemed to realize that Astrid was an android, “We don’t have the space for androids.”

A gesture was all it took to seal her fate, it seemed. Astrid was grabbed from behind, and deposited back into the middle of the square, to fend for herself. Something strong that she didn’t quite understand filled her, and she felt quite resigned to whatever was in store for her. She didn’t have anywhere to go, not really, so she figured that she would probably be shot down and then tossed on a scrap heap somewhere. She wasn’t just going to stand around, though. Maybe she could get lucky, find some place to hide… At least until this blew over. It couldn’t last forever.







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M I L E SxxCAAL
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there is very little left of me,
"human"x|xoutfitx|x#35404F
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxand it's never coming back.
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Even as Miles went to switch off the broadcast, it cut to a shot of the crowd on the ground. The city’s government loved to show off how well everyone got along when it suited them. Sometimes the news organizations played along, and some played nicer than others. Normally he wouldn’t care, if not for the fact that the crowd seemed to be pretty worked up. Surely that wasn’t the image Infinity City officials wanted to broadcast. The first explosion went off right before they cut the footage to some pre-recorded message of peace and prosperity, though that was quickly cut to make way for the coverage of the terrorist attack on the upper levels of the city. On the day they were meant to celebrate one hundred years of peace, no less.

Miles switched off the broadcast; he could hear the screaming and subsequent detonations over the gentle hum of the lights. Even so far beneath it all. It was quiet, and Miles couldn’t fully be sure if he was really hearing the commotion, or if someone nearby just had their television up too loud.. Subtle green lights raced along his veins, visible from just below his skin: the lights flashed yellow. He was distressed. It was strange, if he hadn’t known better, he may have said he didn’t recognise what he was feeling until then. But what was he meant to do in a situation like this? He supposed most people would be shutting themselves in their homes, which seemed like a reasonable response.

He elected to swing open his front door. There was chaos everywhere, people were running out and away from the center of the city. Did Miles know any of the people running past? Did it matter? Of course it mattered. He would let a friend take up shelter inside if they needed it.

Did he have any friends left?

He did. He knew he did. He had to.