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Jack Harris

A tall, black-clothed figure with death in his eyes.

0 · 233 views · located in Jincai

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

Description

A gun for hire. Those who have a job to be done want him. Those who don't, want him dead.

Personality

At first glance, he is cold and calculating, detached from emotions. And at second glance. And third. But the fourth glance might show a very different man altogether.

Equipment

Dual CZ-52 handguns in twin shoulder holsters, two Beretta 9mms tucked in the band of his jeans at the back, Walther PPks strapped to each ankle and twin military-grade KABAR knives slipped neatly in his sleeves, all of which is hidden under his black leather bomber jacket. He sometimes also carries an MP5PDW or an AR-15, depending on his needs at the time.

History

Ex-military, ex-cop. Little else is known about him.

So begins...

Jack Harris's Story

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Jack Harris

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Jack Harris enters the Bar, his expression cold and solemn. There is a darkness in his eyes that seems to chill the room around him. He glances around the room, taking careful note of those present.

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Jack Harris takes several steps toward the bar, his AR-15 tapping against his back with the movement. He sits down at the bar, impatient. His contact is late. Not a good sign in his line of work. He frowns

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Jack Harris enters the bar, his cold eyes glancing this way and that. He scans the room quickly, his muscles tensed for action should the need arise.

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Jack Harris steps inside and looks around the room. He hasn't been here in months, so he doubts he'll see anyone familiar . . .

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Jack Harris

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Jack Harris walks in, brush a few sparse raindrops from his leather bomber jacket. He glances around the room, taking note of the many faces he sees. With a confident gait, he heads for the bar.

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Jack Harris stops at the bar and takes a seat, sighing as he does so. He's tired. Very tired.

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Jack Harris glances over at Lan, raising an eyebrow at the strange-eared being. With a shrug, he turns back to the bar, pulling a couple of bill from his pocket. He sets the greenbacks on the counter and waits for the bartender to notice.

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Jack Harris turns back in a slow and calculated movement. "Smug is the one thing I've rarely been accused of. And if I am 'smug', it's bound to be one of my better qualities."

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Jack Harris folds the bills between his fingers and taps them against the counter absently. With his other hand, he reaches up and rubs at his eyes. The lack of sleep is getting to him. The nightmares are getting worse.

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Jack Harris takes his hand away from his face and looks at Absinthe. "Coffee, black, strong."

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Jack Harris closes his eyes for a moment, a mistake in the condition he's in. As soon as his eyes close, he sees a glimpse of the nightmare. His eyes snap open and he realizes that he's holding one of his pistols, a Sig-Sauer P228. The hammer is pulled back, a round in the chamber. With his hand shaking slightly, he places a thumb on the hammer and eases it back down. The weapon clicks softly as the hammer settles into position and Jack slips the pistol back beneath his jacket. He needs some sleep. Some real sleep.

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Jack Harris looks at Absinthe, un-amused. "The coffee with do fine. Besides, you don't want anything to do with me. Ever."

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Jack Harris sighs. "Miss, no disrespect, but could I please get my coffee?"

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Jack Harris sees the cup. He must be really tired not to have noticed it before. He picks it up and takes and long sip, not caring if it burns him. He needs it. Got to stay awake. Got to. He needs to sleep, wants to sleep. But it's too dangerous. He'll get all the sleep he needs when he's dead . . .

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Jack Harris glances at Serafina. "Were you addressing me, miss?"

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Jack Harris Karato Is it your intention for your character to annoy the crap out of everyone? Just a question . . . :D

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Jack Harris enters the bar. His clothes are dirty and there are several bullet holes in his leather jacket. Blood is slowly dripping from the fingers of his left hand, but he barely seems to notice. He moves toward a table in the shadows and eases himself down into a chair, his eyes watching those in the room warily.

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Jack Harris digs in his jacket pocket for the multitool he always carries. Pulling it from his pocket, he gently shrugs the jacket off, revealing his left arm, two bullet wounds bleeding slowly but steadily.

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Jack Harris flips open the multitool, setting it for the needlenosed pliers. Then he grits his teeth and inserts the pliers into of of the bullet wounds, delving deeply into the flesh for the bullet.

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Jack Harris grunts softly as he feels the pliers grip the bullet. The he begins to extract it from the wound. Pulling it free, he set the battered lead on the table, then proceeds to try getting the other bullet out.

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Jack Harris finally pulls the other bloodstained bullet from his arm and drops it on the table next to the first. Wiping the pliers on his jeans, he folds them up and returns them to his jacket pocket. His hand is shaking slightly and he is a little dizzy, from the blood loss and the lack of sleep.

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Jack Harris tries to tear a bandage from his shirt, but his strength is all but sapped. His arm continues to drip blood on the floor.

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Jack Harris knows that he has to get his arms taken care of, but he can barely keep his head up now. "Can . . . someone . . ." His voice is almost to quiet to hear over the din of the barroom. "Someone . . . help . . ." The blood loss is finally too much and he succumbs to the waiting arms of oblivion, sliding from his chair as he loses consciousness.