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Rick Nasty

[quote]Rick'd be an amazing shot; if he took the time to aim every once in awhile.[/quote]

0 · 267 views · located in The Infinite Void

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

Description

Rick Nasty, as the man calls himself, is an ectomorphic, slim-built individual that stands at six feet and one inch. His eyes are hazel, his nose is narrow and long, and his lips are thin. His skin is pale white, and his hair is kept styled in a tall, multicolored mohawk. Many describe him as an eyesore. For clothing, he wears a synthetic leather-composite jacket which combines the aesthetic appeal of natural leather with the tensile strength of spider silk, and is quite effective against bullets. His trousers are far too tight, and made of the same material, as are his combat boots. Rick delights in instigating and flaunting his coarse nature, and wears a shirt under his jacket, on which are scrawled multiple obscenities in different languages.

Personality

Rick Nasty named himself, and it is a fitting name toward his personality. Never does Rick pass up a chance to annoy, insult, or disgust an individual.

Equipment

Equipment
- Two high-powered laser pistols: Rick is a crack shot with these, and an expert in handling them. Unfortunately, he rarely takes the time to aim.

- Two deflector shields: Rick wears these on his wrists, and they extend along his forearms and three feet in both vertical directions. A leftover from his time in his home planet's SWAT squad. Designed for kinetic, energetic, and magical deflection.

- Various stimulant injections: Rick keeps a pack of stimulants with him, which are intravenously injected. They are standard medical-grade for SWAT teams on his home planet, and absolutely legal, though he does readily admit an addiction to them.

Abilities
- Weak Telekinesis: Rick has developed, as a sizable fraction of his native species, telekinetic abilities. Rick can manipulate certain objects if he concentrates hard enough, hence its weakness.

Other Statistics

Intelligence: Moderate

Spiritual: Very Low

Magic Resistance: Very Low

Stamina: High

Energy: Very High

Endurance: Moderate

Speed: Excellent

Strength: Below Average

Combat: Very High

Technique: Moderate

History

Rick Nasty was recruited into the SWAT Squad of the capital city of his main planet. A superior frequently remarked the only reason he made it was his quick speed, his combat scores, and telekineses; if not for that, he would have immediately been imprisoned. Rick is now on the run after a dishonorable discharge, after making various gross sexual comments toward a female superior. He has fled to Terra, as his home planet has no access rights on the planet, and they likely won't enter negotiations simply for a crazed punk.

So begins...

Rick Nasty's Story

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Rick Nasty kicked open the door as it closed toward him, another patron scurrying forward as he did so. The skinny guy cocked his mohawked head up to the ceiling and laughed loudly, his leather-like jacket opening to reveal a shirt with incredibly offensive phrases scrawled in most languages imaginable. His tight trousers shifted indecently as he strode in, combat boots thunking as he brought up his laser rifles to shoot at the ceiling wildly, shouting as he did.

Look out citizens of Terra! Rick Nasty, dick extraordinaire, has come for your bodies!

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Rick Nasty howled wildly as he shot several more bolts at the ceiling, the metal, shielded surface absolutely unaffected by them. The punk didn't care, he just holstered his pistols and rushed up to the bar, moving with all the speed of a track star to hop up onto the counter, and call over his shoulder.

"Yo, bartender, give me a whiskey and whatever's under your clothes, 'kay!"

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Rick Nasty cocked his head to the side a little bit. There was an android shooting and a voice in his head; the first was kinda cool, he'd never seen a fully-functional android with combat capabilities. The second just made him thought those stims he had packed a big punch, and he laughed loudly. So what if there was a voice in the skinny guy's head, all he needed to do was talk to it, if that was cool with the voice.

"Yo, headvoice!" he called to nothing, still not registering it was Nero. "What's up, man! How's it crackin'! What's the haps in my cranium, dude?"

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Rick Nasty looked over at Nero, about to draw the man in for a big smooch on the cheek, just because. The pointing finger though, drew his attention to Aiyanna, who was looking right at him. His eyes widened, the hazel pointing at her, and then the android, and all the things added up real quick in his stim-enhanced mind. They were gonna try to ice him. Rick clapped his wrists together, a light static hum emitting from the embedded shield projectors there, and he rolled himself off the counter and behind it.

"Yo, hot cop!" he yelled over it. "If it's about the stims, [b]they're perfectly fuckin' legal! How's about you chill out and let Rick take care of ya for a night!?"

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Rick Nasty laughed. 'Juggernaut Bitch' was a great name for a Grrrl Punk band, he'd have to recommend that to someone. Rick's attention was grabbed by Cryoface, and he turned to look at the oversized snowman. Jesus, things were weird in this bar. He didn't see Aiyana approach with the blade, but this guy was gonna be a pain in the ass if he couldn't slip out quick.

"'Cause," he said. "Look, man, I'm busy, got some crazed bitch lookin' to ice me. Besides, you'd probably freeze my stun stick right off." He winked with those last words.

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Rick Nasty yelped. He was right, iceman was gonna distract him way too much if he didn't buzz off soon. The punk brought his right forearm up, the deflector field crackling as it met the blade of the scythe. Rick let out a sharp gasp as the kinetic push from the recoil shoved him backwards in a roll, pushing a bit of air from his skinny frame.

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Rick Nasty yelped as he crashed into the metal surface of the counter, a sharp crack above his head as Meldraenei's round colliding with the counter. Rick brought the forearm shield over his head, and the electric crackle briefly coursed through his forearms as the EMP hit the deflector plane, coursing off against it toward the shielded ceiling, The other deflector's circuitry, hit by the EMP blast, buzzed in his forearm before the humid static feeling left the atmosphere in front of the punk.

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Rick Nasty took a deep breath. Telekineses was also a cool trick, and he knew it a bit as well. The mutation was common among his species, and just relied on some concentration. What better thing to send your concentration into overdrive than an isotope round. Rick's telekinetic blast pushed against the bullet, attempting to drive it's path toward the ceiling of the bar.

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Rick Nasty shot his hand down to the left laser pistol, another telekinetic burst clearing the round that, once directed toward the ceiling, had begun falling again toward the side, sending it toward a table, because you can never assume that your technique can't be countered. Rick also brought the laser pistol up to the side of his shield, pointing it in front of his body as he fired three quick shots, two of which whizzed safely past, the third of which was aimed directly toward the round.

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Rick Nasty turned his forearm slightly, angling the shield down so the isotope round hit its top, and the explosion from the second weapon struck against the bottom. In his crouching position, the shield's recoil sent him flying over the bar counter, landing in a seat. If the isotope round exploded with the force of a grenade, it wouldn't overload the power source. Still, the sentinels would be a problem, so the punk pulled out his other pistol, akimbo sidearms at the ready as he struggle to right himself. Surrounded, and with nowhere to escape, there was an edge of panic in the punk's voice as he yelled.

"Aw, come on, this is bullshit! I was having trouble with one of you chicks, and now you're sending an army after me? Fuck the establishment!"

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Rick Nasty bounced slightly away from the sentinels as Meldraenei's bullets careened into and off the deflector shield, it having been designed to protect the vital spots of a humanoid form when fired at by the flank. With that, the battle was starting anew, and Rick sent out a
Yeehawww!
as he darted back a bit, firing several chaotic shots from the laser pistols, most of the bolts ruining chairs, tables, and an unfortunate patron's clothing. A couple, however, would careen toward the joints of two of the sentinels, hopefully fusing them together.

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Rick Nasty stared at Aiyanna, looking at the sentinels on her flanks. Meldraenei was also not firing at him. The punk stood stock straight, pistol muzzles pointed toward the feet of the two closest sentinels, and he grinned. Mr. Nasty had an awesome reply in the form of a thick glob of spit toward the woman's feet, and then a follow-up.

"You seem stressed," he grinned. "How about you spend a night with me, and I help ya out with that." He made obscene motions with his hips, "I can go all night, baby!"

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Rick Nasty wolf-whistled at the sword, still looking at Aiyanna. His forearm came up against Meldraenei's snap, and so his pistol raised up to the side of the sword.

"A domme? Kiiinky," his grin fell. "Look, lady, fuck you and your machines."

With that, he pushed toward Meldraenei's[b] gun with his body, the shield threatening to collide with the barrel as he turned his wrist slightly, firing off two bursts toward [b]Aiyanna's face, and two bolts at her sword with his other pistol.

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Rick Nasty was quick, and Aiyanna strong, and Meldraenei overconfident. The punk turned his arm as soon as Mel stopped him, the kinetic recoil sending him back, and the pistols away from the android commander. Rick pushed the sole of his boot against Meldraenei's ankle, not expecting her to fall, but giving him enough leverage to push off away from her, firing a shot at the back of her neck.

It wouldn't have been a good idea to try to grab the deflector shield, it's rather good at deflecting kinetic energy, with a bit of a recoil.

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Rick Nasty wondered how exactly Aiyanna was directing this energy over such a distance, as he had leapt off Meldraenei's ankle, using it as leverage, and had turned the shield during the point where the other android had pulled out her assault rifle and flicked the safety. The kinetic recoil from the bullets sent him sailing up and over to the back of the counter again, while the loss of energy over the distance Aiyanna had directed it was easily repulsed by the field generated by his shield.

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Rick Nasty brought the deflector up over his head. The shield, indeed, ran off a power source; it was integrated electronics, based off his own electrochemical reactions. The field itself was a repulsor, and detected, via sensors, the spin of the elementary particles involved in the force used. It then counteracted the spin, repelling both the shieldbearer and the impetus of the force. So, as Rick brought his shield up to the blade, it was most likely that Aiyanna would end up getting a nice dose of her own kinetic force, as well as the punk falling down into a roll to the floor.

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Rick Nasty 's writer knows when he's beat. So, rather than continue fighting, Rick hits his shield off the ground, and sails out through one of the busted windows, running for his life. Take that, automaton!

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Rick Nasty peeked around the bar door before he entered. He had never had his whiskey, before Son Goku and Gohan had come into the picture. It was clear, the punk noted, so he rushed in -- his writer needs to flesh him out more -- his tight trousers shifting indecently as he rushed into the establishment, yelling like all hell had broken loose. He flipped over the bar as a man in grey robes and a ninja-like character exited.

"Fuck yeah!" He yelled, "Gettin' my whiskey!"

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Rick Nasty looked over at Jacob, and turned so his leather-like jacket opened to show the obscenities scrawled on it in various language.

"Piss off, man! Can't you see I'm tending this here bar!?" The punk walked forward to the man, "It's disrespectful, dude, to just take your own drink!"

He grabbed a whiskey from the shelves.

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Rick Nasty raised his head, looking down at Jacob through partly lidded as he glared at the man. He popped open his own whiskey as he did, tossing the cap over his mohawk, and then replied, before taking a deep swig.

"...cool."

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Rick Nasty finished the swig, bringing the whiskey down to his side, and then his head back down to its correct position. The punk stared at Jacob for a minute, and then leaned in slightly.

"You're cute," he grinned.

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Rick Nasty raised his shoulders in a shrug, hopping up onto the counter and sitting with whiskey in hand, his mohawk not budging at all as he landed.

"Hey, don't be like that." The punk leaned in a little more, "The more the merrier, guys!"

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Rick Nasty scoffed, leaning back. He brought the bottle back up to his lips, leaning back and taking a giant swig, before removing the bottle from his lips and slamming it down onto the counter.

The punk turned over his shoulder to call to them, "Fine! That haircut makes you look like a pansy anyway!"

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Rick Nasty frowned, taking another deep glug of his whiskey, slamming the bottle down once he finished and shuddered. The punk jumped up from the counter, kicking two stools aside as he made an obscene hip motion toward the two's backs, before yelling back.

"You're a bitch! And I'm not talking about the babe!"

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Rick Nasty laughed loudly as he brought his arm up, and his middle finger popped up at them. He combined this with a gratuitous pelvic thrust, winking as he did so. The punk then jumped back on the bar, satisfied with himself and ready for another chug of hard liquor.