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Bernard Grant

They call us mad. Insane. No. We are enlightened.

0 · 257 views · located in Dystopian cyberpunk future

a character in “Synth Crisis”, as played by _Hatter_

Description

Image

Name: Bernard Grant
Role: Terrorist, preacher
Age: 73
Gender: Male
Physical Description: 7 feet tall. Virtually his entire body has been replaced with cybernetic components. Only his brain and a few of his internal organs remain organic. His mechanical body is still humanoid in shape and houses no odd gadgets. He normally wears a long, hooded coat over a T-shirt and baggy pants with sturdy boots.

Gear: Bernard uses many weapons, but only consistently carries on his person 2 pulse SMGs, 1 high caliber slug pistol, several incendiary grenades, and some old-fashioned plastic explosives with remote detonators.

Cybernetics: Entire body except for a few minor organs and his brain are mechanical. Not weaponized, but hydraulic systems give him enhanced strength and speed. In addition, both his sight and hearing and well beyond normal human levels. He can switch between normal vision and a sort of visual echolocation that lets him see through walls and around corners, if conditions are right. His body also runs cool, so that he doesn't show up on thermal scans.

Personality: Bernard is, or has become, a high functioning psychopath. He either handles the madness particularly well, or has become so insane that he appears almost sane again. But make no mistake, while he may have his wits about him, he is still dangerously deluded. He believes that he and other cyborgs are not mad, but have instead reached some higher plane of understanding. He views the unmodified with pity. In his mind, they are trapped in the past, unaware of their true potential. And he wants nothing more than to show them the light, so to speak. By any means necessary.

Bio: Bernard was a police officer once. Long ago. He barely remembers it now. Back before there were mega cities and cyborgs. He remembers that he was a good cop. He wasn't corrupt like some of the others. He retired, eventually. Did he have a wife? Perhaps. There was someone...who lived with him. One day he was driving home. Fancy new hover cars. Never thought he'd see the day. And then gleaming white walls. A hospital. They said he had been in an accident. It was bad, but they had managed to keep him alive by replacing several of his organs and all four of his limbs with cybernetic parts. He distinctly remembers feeling reborn. Saved by the miracle of science. They didn't just fix him, they improved him. And that was just the beginning. When the...whatever it was, happened and all of his fellow cyborgs began going crazy he barely noticed the change. But his addiction to cybernetics only grew. He spent his entire life's savings on his new body. But now his body made him evil. Made him an enemy of humanity. Preposterous! He only wanted to save them from themselves. He would show them what they could be. What they should be. For the world is changing and those who don't adapt will be left behind.

This picture is cool: http://duster132.deviantart.com/art/Babiru-39-445121460

So begins...

Bernard Grant's Story

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Character Portrait: Bernard Grant
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Bernard, "Bernie," was watching the scene at the warehouse from the window of a nearby apartment building. The apartment's owner, one "William Burns," was face-down in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the room. "What an amusingly appropriate name." Bernard thought to himself. Plastic explosives were taped to the walls and ceiling here and there, little red lights blinking on and off. The lights were purely aesthetic, of course, but it just felt right. A makeshift rocket launcher stood next to the half-open window. Not a very reliable weapon, but then again he only needed to fire it once.

As he peered down at the police cars amassed outside the front of the warehouse he wondered if his brothers and sisters inside could cause enough trouble to get the cops to call for reinforcements. He hoped they did. The more police present to feel his wrath, the better. But either way he would make sure their glorious sacrifice would not be in vain. For now he merely watched. And waited.

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Things were getting interesting down below. Someone had brought a child, a little girl, to the officers milling about outside the warehouse. No idea why. That particular area was probably one of the least safe places in the city right now. In just a little bit it would skyrocket, no pun intended, to the #1 least safe place in the city thanks to the bulky shoulder-mounted rocket launcher he was now pointing down at the collection of cop cars huddled around the front of the warehouse.

The launcher itself was little more than a big metal pipe. It wouldn't explode in his face, but that was about the best thing that could be said for the weapon. The rocket though, oh boy that was a piece of work. It seemed almost criminal to fire such a fine, carefully crafted warhead from such a piece of crap. Criminal. Ha. But for Bernard's purposes both the launcher and its payload were more than adequate.

He did not want to kill the girl. She was still young. Innocent. Probably. She still had plenty of time to embrace the future. Or would have, had she not been standing where she was. Wrong place, wrong time. An unfortunate turn of events, but he couldn't just stop now. Not after setting this all up. He wasn't the one who told the cyborgs to assault the warehouse. He occasionally worked with some of the gangs but he didn't have that kind of pull. He had, however, learned of their plans and made plans of his own. Hence his setup here in this old apartment which had a perfect view of the street below.

"Might as well get it over with." he thought to himself, slightly sour over the kid being there. The barrel of the launcher flicked from one cop to the next. "Eeny meeny miny...mo." he said, steadying his aim on the one farthest from the girl. It was unlikely that she would escape the hellfire, but he could try, couldn't he? With a small squeeze of the trigger the rocket took flight and with a loud screech swerved and arced its way towards unlucky police officer #4.

It missed. It hit the street about six feet to the left of him. But that hardly mattered as a fireball quickly engulfed both that officer and everything within 15 feet or so before the flames hungrily began spreading outwards and upwards. Bernard had spent a pretty penny on that rocket, and it had been worth it. It was filled with a chemical concoction that was not only highly incendiary, but also reacted violently with water. He had set fire to the rain itself. He vaguely remembered there being a song about just such a feat. But more importantly the street below was quickly becoming a hellish inferno as the fire spread. By his estimation roughly 50 feet of street would be a sea of flames for a good while before the chemical got too thinly dispersed to continue burning. Time to leave. But first, he set up a little camera on poor old William's desk, facing towards the door. When the cops came knocking, he'd knock back.

Out the door and straight up the nearby stairwell. This apartment building had an elevator, but his legs never got tired so why not use the stairs? It was much faster. Once he got to the roof he figured he could take a moment to ponder his next move. Should he just make a clean escape? Or should he help his fellow cyborgs get away with the kardmium? Decisions decisions.

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Bernard was perched on the rooftop like a lonely gargoyle, looking down at the destruction he had wrought. The police were being fried to a crisp, and he was happy to see that the girl's guardian had gotten her away from the flames in time. That second explosion though...that wasn't his. One of those cyborgs inside must have brought explosives. That was just bad luck. He continued to hear faint gunshots coming from inside the warehouse. Judging from the firing patterns the person with the semi-automatic pistol was winning. As if to confirm that claim, a shotgun blast rang out, followed by a few more pistol shots...then silence. Well, aside from the noise of the heavy rain and the crackling fire below. And the screams of the burning officers, which were quickly becoming less frequent.

If he still had lips he would frown. He had just taken out a good number of those horrible cops but his brethren in the warehouse had been completely wiped out as well by only a few officers. They must be good. True, some of his brothers and sisters had become cocky, even stupid when they ascended, but to be killed by only a handful of humans was pitiful. He could not find it within him to mourn for such incompetents. They did not treasure their gifts like Bernard did. They were reckless. They treat their bodies like a child treats its toys, and like so many children's toys they ended up broken.

Still, those elite officers may be a hindrance in the future. Or perhaps he could use them. After all, nothing gets the people riled up like a bad cop. Sure, they might not be bad now. But he had his ways. For now, he would do a little thievery. It almost seemed beneath him, but it never hurt to have some kardmium. The stuff was worth more than its weight in gold. And Bernard didn't exactly have a day job. Taking just a moment to measure the gap, he backed up, got a running start, and leaped from the ten story apartment building down to the 3 story warehouse, landing gently like a butterfly. A half ton butterfly made of metal. It was a pretty graceful landing, but he had made a bit of a "thud." He stopped and listened for any reactions. They might not have heard him over the rain and fire.

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Character Portrait: Slade Gunnerson Character Portrait: Bernard Grant Character Portrait: Annelise Gulbrandsen Character Portrait: Colton Stent Character Portrait: The Doctor
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"No shit Sherlock......" Slade muttered to himself as he heard Colton's plan. He turned and headed towards the front of the building where the carnage and away from Colton and Anna. A few seconds later the he was at the front of the building. THe air was a lot warmer and it was full of the smells of flesh and rubber, and chemicals. Most of the fire had subsided and it left in its wake a lot of dead cops. He didn't see many survivors however the few that did survive were now severely burned, and ironicly would probably need cybernetics to survive. The thought of this made Slade furious, these were good men and women, and it shouldn't have come to this. A few of the officers that survived the blast and were ok had detained a cyborg that looked to be carrying a bomb. He would deal with her later, as of right now a lot things needed to be answered.

Slade looked around to see if he could spot where this explosion came from, Out of the corner of his eye his goggles locked onto a figure jumping from a nearby taller building onto the warehouse. It couldn't be who he thought it was, Slade hadn't seen or heard from him in a while. "Gunnerson what the hell happened down there? Who did this?" Said the sarge's voice from his mic. "I don't know but I think I'm gonna find out..." He said turning off his mic as he began to run back into the warehouse to confront the stranger. More and more questions began to pile up.

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Character Portrait: Slade Gunnerson Character Portrait: Bernard Grant Character Portrait: Annelise Gulbrandsen Character Portrait: Colton Stent
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#, as written by kemj25
After being met with some sarcasm from his fellow officers, Stent marched into the warehouse. From inside, he could see both Slade checking on the officers, some of which were negotiating with an oddly familiar cyborg.

Alright, time to scan for clues. Crates of kardmium were strapped with rigs for easy hauling, provided these thugs had the right equipment. This only confirmed Stent's suspicion that they were trying to steal the precious alloy. An overlooked fact by the general public is that insanity does not always equate to a complete loss of faculties, as some simply gained a screwed up moral compass or skewed sense of what's ethical. This always made it hard to deal with the cyborgs. Either they were mad or believed so strongly that they were immune.

The plasma burns and position of this husk indicates that one cyborg sacrificed himself to create this hole in the wall. A plasma core this volatile is likely a class four upgrade. Most cyborg's can't afford that. This is likely tied to activity of maybe a larger gang. Back at HQ, I'm going to need to look into gang activities. They're getting bolder no-

A gentle thud on the roof caught Colton's attention and shortly after, he noticed Slade moving back towards the warehouse. It would probably be a good idea to investigate.

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Character Portrait: Bernard Grant Character Portrait: Annelise Gulbrandsen Character Portrait: The Doctor
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He didn't hear any shouting or exclamation after landing so for now Bernard assumed he was in the clear. Still, he wanted to be cautious. He just wanted to keep an eye on the kardmium to make sure the few remaining cops didn't load it up and ship it off to who-knows-where before he could grab some. He only needed a single box of the stuff. He could easily carry more but despite his strength he wanted at least one hand free just in case. But he was getting ahead of himself.

He made his way over to where one of the cops had gotten in. The mangled wreck of a cyborg was still laying there where it had fallen. But Bernard felt no pity. Only disdain. Such wasted potential. Down one flight of stairs and he was inside on the third floor, with more cyborg bodies laid nearby. He was going to keep heading down when he heard voices coming up from below. Even with his enhanced hearing it was somewhat hard to decipher with the rain pouring hard on the metal roof just feet above him, but it definitely sounded like two female voices. He drew his pistol, the giant .50 caliber monster that they used to use on cyborgs before pulse tech became more efficient and popular. It was the only thing left from his own days as an officer. That and a few vague, muddle memories. He continued towards the stairs leading down to the second floor, but slower, quieter.

He considered, briefly, giving up on the kardmium and just escaping, but he was already inside. It would hurt his pride to leave empty handed now.

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