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Aleric Stockard

0 · 696 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nevermore90

Description

Image
Aleric Stockard
Eye Color: Grey-brown
Hair color: Brown
Height: 6'2
Weight: 185ibs
Accent: Aleric isn't affected by any "Accent," although his vernacular isn't American standard; when he talks to girls, he normally uses "Lass" instead of their name.

Aleric is the picture of perfect physical health in a high-technology setting. He's mostly lean muscle (the kind developed with running and gymnastics, not weight lifting), square-jaw, attractive build-though not through natural design gene treatments, injections, and all other manner of non-surgery went into making Aleric the best looking he could possibly be. He's as strong as a man should be in his prime and just as athletic.

Personality

ImageAleric likes to think of himself as being someone who likes to be secluded, quiet, alone, left alone, not bothered, and unencumbered by the company of others, but just about the opposite is true; he unconsciously yearns for the attention and companionship of other, like-minded individuals. He's a natural caretaker, husbandmen, and confidant. He also enjoys fights and killing a lot more than he would ever admit. Aleric is also a big pessimist.

Philosophy: If the first shot doesn't kill me, you better pray to whatever God you worship the next one does.

Aleric currently lives on the second floor of Gambit's hotel-section.

Equipment

Image7.62STANAG assault rifle

History

Aleric grew up the bastard child of one of the Multiverse's worst misbegotten relationships. Neither of his parents really gave a damn one way or the other as to what he did with himself during the day or whether he made it home at night. The SnC (The parenting nation he grew up in) didn't really give a damn, either, until he was 17, and showed academic potential far surpassing what would be expected from such an unfortunate childhood. He wasn't an attention-getter, didn't like attention, didn't want it-but it found him and thrust itself upon him in a very unexpected way.
One afternoon, shortly after lunch, Aleric was called down to Head-Dean Warrick's office. Never haven gotten into trouble before save a minor scuffle in the ninth grade, this naturally scared the piss out of him. When he arrived, the dean was accompanied by one Sargent Lockerlaker, who offered him a contract for military service. The SnC had encroached on colonies of a bug-like race that was kicking their ass back to SnC's home planet, and they needed a guinea pig for the E.L.F. program (E.D.E.N. project of Longevity and Fertility), which was essentially the second-largest publicity stunt since the SPARTAN2 program went public in UNSC-controlled space.
Aleric (as far as he knows) was the first and only test subject. Everything went so well, he was put on the battlefield and was portrayed as almost single-handedly saving humanity from the bug-monster-aliens. (That wasn't the whole truth, of course, but it was close) Aleric returned to SnC-controlled space for R&R and 6 months of fame in which every man, woman, and child wanted pictures, autographs, or sex. It was great, though he was world-weary and wanted nothing more than sleep after the years he spent on ass-backwards planets eating sawdust and fighting for his life.
Well, it was great until those six months ended, and Aleric was framed for rape, murder, assassination, treason, tyranny, and a slew of other crimes. He was incarcerated in the MAG6, the SnC's worst prison on a bone dry-desert planet and the edge of their colonies. He escaped of course, being the genetically-altered freak-of-science that fought off SnC's impending doom only a year ago. He collected a stripped down version of his old armored suit, a stylish jacket to wear over it, a few guns, and plenty of ammo. Getting off planet was easy, though getting out of SnC space wasn't.

Now Aleric is in Wing City, working security in Gambit's by day and fathering a 13 year old science-freak like himself by night.


Aleric Stockard pushed the bar's entrance door in, guessing that only suicidal SnC soldiers would start a fight in a place who's very mention sent shivers down many one's spine. It had its happy moments, sure, but it was all too well known for attempts at mass murder, zombie attacks, god-on-god war (or... worse), terrible plagues, and bad service. With its... interesting assortment of orderable items, it also served the purpose of helping Aleric obtain some cheap painkillers-addictions are hard to kick.
With a little sigh, Aleric pulled his second-head from off his face and folded the material into a jacket pocket. It looked like flimsy cloth when it was off, but the mesh was bullet-proof-and warm. No longer in the rain (which his jacket protected him from regardless), he could afford to shed a bit of his extra skin. Barrel-down and strapped across his back, an assault rifle bounced gently against his ass as his strolled in, found himself an empty seat, and ordered a likely stupid combination of medication and alcohol.
A small serving robot, as NPCs were cheaper and easier to write for when they lacked any reason to have a personality, shuffled around the endless storage room for "Trimium Patch-ups" and a small bottle of vodka. Rather than physically bring it to him, however, the items (as if by magic but more likely through high technology), disappeared and reappeared on his table. The price-worth of money, at he same time, similarly left his wallet. Life was simple, the vodka burned, and the painkillers but his nerves at ease.

So begins...

Aleric Stockard's Story

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Aleric Stockard furrowed his brows. "Oh, alright. I'm sorry, I don't know where I was getting my math from." Painkiller withdrawls were messing him up something fierce. "How long do you have leave for, or do you?"

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Aleric Stockard took another bite, then set the cheeseburger down. "I know what the random-recall is like. First time I got leave, I was kind of excited. Lasted... maybe five hours." he added bitterly.

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Aleric Stockard sighed, thinking of his enlistment days. "I was never around a lot of soldiers. I was kind of a... lone wolf thing. Like how the Spartans were huge publicity icons for a while, all hush-hush and the MIA versus KIA, I wasn't really supposed to mingle."

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Aleric Stockard watched her leave. He started eating again, waiting for her to return.

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Aleric Stockard nodded. "Quite a bit, lass." He was done with his burger, shifting now to fries and his soda. "And you, I?"

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Aleric Stockard looked from the table to her, and then around the bar. "Expected back at the ship some time tonight?"

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shrugged. "If I'm going to buy you anymore drinks, I'd like to know how long you'll be here."

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Aleric Stockard smiled. "Is that a yes to drinks then?"

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Aleric Stockard tapped in some more orders after summoning the menu back up. He looked around the bar, and realized it was quite devoid.
Just then, an army of NPCs entered, creating much ruckus, which gave Aleric a rather convenient excuse to say: "It's a bit loud in here. I'd rather catch a drink upstairs, put on TV or something. You?"

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Aleric Stockard smiled again and slid out of his seat, just in time to intercept two passing drinks. "I'm in room one-zero-three." He waited for her to get up.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Gambit's Hotel, 2nd Floor

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Aleric Stockard walked up the stairs ahead of her. "I don't expect to keep you too long, but if you care to stay..." he shrugged. "I'm not really prepared to stop a SPARTAN."

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Aleric Stockard shrugged again. "You've reportedly got twice the strength and speed of a normal human, and I know that's an understatement. I couldn't make you go if I wanted to."

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Aleric Stockard shook his head. "No, no, I couldn't make you leave if I wanted to. I don't mind you staying. I like the company, lass." he turned to face her. "I'm sorry."

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Aleric Stockard fumbled with the key and door he had his back to, one-handed as he tried to hold two bottles. "I got this room two nights ago, so it's nothing fancy."

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Aleric Stockard walked in and turned back around, setting the drinks down on the bedside table. The sheets were a bit of a mess-they had been jointly occupied the last two nights-but he explained he didn't sleep well. "I still get the shakes every now and then... too many crash landings, y'know?"

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Aleric Stockard shook his head. "Nevermind." He closed the door, dropped his assault rifle by the bed and pulled off his jacket. Underneath was a series of metal plates and mesh, decorated with ammo boxes on either side and a knife on his hip. He unclinched two harnesses and it fell away, leaving just him and the armor. "If you don't mind, please take your shoes off." He sat at the end of the bed and started untying his boots.

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Aleric Stockard offered her a small smile and handed her a beer. "So... what's it like being a spartan, versus a 'normal' UNSC role?"

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Aleric Stockard shrugged. "When you get shore leave, in UNSC territory, how to civilians react to you?"

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Aleric Stockard nodded. His experience with civilians was quite different-though that was mostly due to the SnC lying and making him god-status. "Do you like that? Lack of notoriety?" He opened his bottle and took a swig.

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Aleric Stockard chuckled. He was in hell because people wanted him dead. Fame was a bitch. "Suppose that's nice. I didn't catch your name..."

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Aleric Stockard thought about it, then let his head rest firmly in his palm. "I'm sorry... Awna."

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Aleric Stockard chuckled weakly. "That's what I meant..." he looked up at her, and noticed the unopened beverage. "Sorry."

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Aleric Stockard offered her a smile and got up, taking another swig. "Do you like talking about work, or should I change the subject?"

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Aleric Stockard leaned against the wall a few feet to one side of her. "Any stories you care to share?"

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Aleric Stockard nodded and waited. He was almost halfway with this drink.