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Tai "Reid" Kash

A drifter who has a serious mortal problem, forever looking for the cure.

0 · 307 views · located in The Infinite Void

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

Description

Name: Tai "Reid" Kash

Species: Human (But cursed to be aged 32 forever)

Age: Looks 32, Actually 78

Height: 6"1

Weight and Body Type: 115 lbs. Tai is an extremely gaunt man, but traces of muscle can be seen.

Skin color: He is fairly pale, but not ghostly white, with dark rings around his eyes.

Hair color: Light brown.

Eye color: Hazel.

Hair Style: Tai has a shaved head, he prefers it short.

Facial Hair: He maintains a full 5 o'clock shadow beard.

Tattoos/Markings: From his shoulders, black tendrils reach up to the back of his neck; also he has a decorative combination of demonic and tribal tattoo that covers his forearm and rises just about to his shoulder. It is very elaborate and only features the colors red, green, and black.

Facial Features: Again, Tai is a very cadaverous individual; his cheek bones stick out as does his jawline. He has a fairly long nose, but it is not beak-like, though it does have a slight bump right in the middle. He looks very ragged and tired all the time with bloodshot eyes and dark rings around them.

{Clothing}

Tai does not own too much at all, this goes for clothing as well. From the bottom up, he wears patched up black combat boots, dark pants, a black cotton v-neck shirt, and a think, dark cloak that reaches only down to his tush but features a very nice-looking hood; he also bears fingerless biker gloves - the whole outfit making him look like quite the sketchy character.

Personality

One might describe Tai as antsy; he doesn't like to stay still for too long, and this makes him look like he's paranoid - which is really only half true. Overall he is an okay fellow, albeit a bit quiet if he's not in the talking mood. He thinks fast and he just does things, no questions asked. He appears to be very sick, and rightfully so, he also flinches and makes pained faces which are not exaggerations at all - he is in real pain! He has unfortunately been cursed to live out an eternity in his 32 year old form, and even though he's only 78, he gets random bouts of pain from non-existant arthritis, or other painful effects of the curse. His main goal is looking for a way to dispel these effects, though not necessarily getting rid of the slow aging factor.

Another thing key about Tai is that he always has cigarettes, and he is a pretty heavy chain smoker. A cigar to him is a great treasure, and he'll trade up to two packs of cigarettes for one. If he's run out of cigarettes, get. him. some. He will go berserk and will have panic attacks and be enraged - they are his only source of comfort, and believe it or not, he's not addicted, as it's impossible due to the curse, but he enjoys the activity and is simply addicted to the practice.

Aside from all that, he can be a pretty key ally in a fight. He isn't too good with magics of any kind, but he is an amazing brawler and very skilled with his two machetes and large dagger. Because of his thin, gaunt figure, he is very nimble and a pretty good thief - but he's also quite the agile fighter and gets a thrill out of fighting, but only every now and again, he is no blood-thirsty warrior.

Equipment

Tai carries only a small pouch of coins that's tied to a belt loop on his pants, his two lovely machetes which he takes great care of and are found at either side of his waist, and finally his razor-sharp dagger strapped behind him. Let's not forget his trademark leather cigarette pouch on his right beneath his cloak.

So begins...

Tai "Reid" Kash's Story

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The door was nimbly pushed open by the very, very gaunt man in a dark cloak, pants, and patched up combat boots. He pulled the hood of his thin cloak down from his shaved head with one of his biker-gloved hands as he shut the door behind him with his foot. What little hair that was on his head was light brown, as was his full 5 o'clock shadow beard. In all honesty, he looked like a pretty sketchy character; he seemed very antsy, but he couldn't help that, and he had a decorative tattoo that was a combination of demonic and tribal design on his left forearm that rose almost to his shoulder.

He had a limp cigarette in his mouth and the smoke was lazily dragged out of it by the heat. He blew the inhaled smoke out through his nostrils and began to travel lightly through the tables, looking for a place to sit comfortably, maybe even talk to someone; yes, tonight felt like a talking night. Now, to find someone to sit with so he wouldn't appear like such an awkward patron...

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Tai took a quick look around with his hazel eyes and, seeing that all of the other patrons were already grouped together, decided that maybe it would be a good idea to just join them. He grinned when he heard the pickup line and cracked a bigger smile when Markuss blasted it - though the gesture looked slightly creepy on his gaunt, tired-looking face.

He took the cigarette from his mouth and set it in his fore and middle fingers on his right hand. He approached the table, not quite sure how he should make his entrance and so went with, "Hey there...you gents and lady mind if I...have a seat?" Tai looked a bit uncomfortable, social situations weren't his strongpoint, but he was trying. As an afterthought he nodded to the three of them.

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"Thanks," he replied to the gesture in his low-key manner of speaking, maybe a bit too quietly for Tommy to hear. Tai placed the cigarette in between his lips, took the chair, sat on it backwards, and then flicked the ashes into a nearby ashtray.

As he was suddenly opened up to Markuss, he took the cigarette into his left hand and gave the heavy-clothed man a firm shake. Tai smiled at his comment and replied, "Reid, call me Reid. It's nice to meetcha." He noticed that the man was missing an arm, but he didn't keep his eyes there for long - he didn't like being looked at funny either.

"Sorry about bargin' in on you like this, the lone wolf's only fun for so long, you know?" he smiled kindly enough, but it looked strange on him, like he didn't do it too much. Tai glanced at his cigarette and asked, "Smoke botherin' you?"

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"Pleasure," he nodded at Tommy and gave him an acknowledging clamp on the shoulder before turning back to Markuss. Tai almost believed him when he said that the smoke wasn't bothering him, but the not so nonchalant coughing at the end of his speech gave him away - smokers just knew when they're activity wasn't very appreciated, especially chain smokers like himself.

"Well that's alright, I'm done anyway," he replied and crushed his only half-burnt cancer stick. It was going to get tricky for him now - he was antsy as it was, but now with no cigarette in hand, he was really up for a challenge. The misconception is that he is addicted to the nicotine, but the curse that ceased his aging stopped any kind of addiction, it was the habit more than anything, and he couldn't go too long without it.

Tai laughed though and clapped a bit, "I knew I recognized that somewhere, great book." He thought about the question a moment, his eyes that seemed to bug out slightly due to his cadaverous features strolled away and then came back to Markuss. "Not much no, I mostly keep to myself. Believe it or not, most people do not find me appetizing to the senses." Reid laughed a bit under his breath and then bumped his scruffy chin at his new acquaintance, "You seem to get along pretty well with the people though. Maybe some social lessons are in order."

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Tai couldn't help but laugh at the man's antics, he was amusing enough, and he could appreciate the roughness around the edges. "Yeah..." he said after a couple of moments, "I hate prissy-looking fucks." He grinned and scratched the scruff of his right cheek. The motion slightly uncovered two machetes, one on each side of his waist, from under his cloak. They glimmered a bit, but were back under his cloak as quickly as they had been revealed.

"You have a point though, if a person is willing you get along with you, I'd say they're just as well to be spoken to," he finished with a decisive nod. Every few moments he would look around, like he couldn't sit still, or some kind of paranoia had seeped in - whatever it was, most people found it disturbing, even scary, so they tended to stay away from him.

"So what's your story? Why Wing City? If, of course, you don't mind sharing," Tai gestured to him. He looked up and pointed at the bartender, "A scotch," and then back at Markuss, "want anything?"

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Tai smiled and shook his head after the questions were asked, he knew they were coming, he just didn't know in what form. It was always different, but always the same. "Well actually I...-" his eyebrows pushed together and he frowned. Quick as a fly he snatched a new cigarette from a hidden leather pouch underneath his cloak and swiped it against the table, effectively lighting it.

He stuck it between his lips and stood up, "I've got to get going, just remembered I've got an...errand to run." Tai pointed at him then and said, "To be continued, good night partner." He turned to leave, always looking about unnervingly; as he opened the door to leave, he puffed the smoke through his nostrils and then shut the door behind him, his other hand up in a motionless wave.

Just as the door closed, he flipped on his thin, black hood and disappeared into the night.

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The gaunt man strolled easily down the steps and into the main bar area, a lit cigarette in between his lips. His hazel eyes glanced to and fro about Gambit's, immediately recognizing it to be a hostile zone as of now...but then again, it was hardly ever a peaceful place so to speak. The dark rings around his eyes seemed even more shadowed than usual tonight, and his cheekbones stuck out more noticeably as well.

The shaved-headed man with a full beard of 5 o'clock shadow decided not to interfere with the whole situation, not his business. He let the inhaled smoke ease out of his nostrils and sat at a nearby table. Even though he looked to be concentrating on his cancer stick, he was more than ready to have some company - lonely times.

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He crushed the life out of the stub of a cigarette and immediately pulled out a new one from a leather pouch hidden from view by his thin, dark cloak. With a single, rapid swipe against the table, the new cigarette was lit and he held it in between his forefinger and thumb while he smoked it.

He took a look around and watched as Toby left, the couple?, and the two individuals who seemed to have...telekinesis. Man, the characters he came across in this place. Tai halfheartedly puffed a few smoke rings and then simply blew the rest of the smoke away before taking another hit.

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Tai stood up suddenly and stuck the cigarette in between his lips; he tossed on his hood and left the tavern wondering what there was to do on Sol Avenue.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Sol Avenue

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Tai's hood was on, and only his 5 o'clock shadow beard was visible - that and the cigarette in between his lips. Smoke blazed from his nostrils and he walked easily onto the famous Sol Avenue, home to many people and pleasures. Cars flew by him, his short cloak flapping a bit each time one passed.

He kept his biker-gloved hands in his pockets, occasionally pulling out his right hand to take the cig from his mouth, only to replace it once again. His hazel eyes flit about, looking for an interesting person to talk to, or a place to be.

The setting changes from sol-avenue to Gambit's Bar

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The gaunt man shuffled easily down the stairs, his big hazel eyes flitting around the bar for a moment, checking out the customers present. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth as always, the smoke blazing from his nostrils. His dark cloak hung loosely about his thin figure and only glimpses of the two machetes at either side of his waist could be caught.

His head was shaven, and he had a full 5 o'clock shadow beard that matched it. There were dark rings around his eyes, and he truly did look cadaverous. As he passed the singer, he flipped a coin to him from a biker-gloved hand and walked past him to the bar. After taking a seat, he quietly nodded to any and all who would give him the attention and then quietly ordered a scotch.

He smoked his cancer stick and fidgeted quite a bit, either looking to and fro, or drumming his fingers quietly on the bar top. There was a certain sketchiness about him, but then again, it isn't wise to judge a book by its cover.

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Reid's eyes jumped up to look at her and he smiled a surprisingly white smile given his bum appearance. He let the cigarette rest in between his fore and thumb fingers and said half-embarrassed, "I was starting to wonder why the bots didn't jump to life." His voice was low, like he was expecting someone to listen in, and it had maybe a hint of southern origin.

The thin man dumped a few ashes into a nearby tray and continued, "I'll have a scotch, my name's Reid, it's nice to meet you." He rubbed his left forearm, which was blanketed in tattoo ink, and then returned the cigarette to his mouth, his antsy demeanor ever-present. "Are you a new employee? If you don't mind me askin', of course. I haven't seen you here before."

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"Meh," he waved away the apology, "never trusted something 'em anyway." He said the last bit with a smile in his eyes and tapped a few more ashes into the ashtray.

He caught the glass that she slid over to him and said, "I say they give you a job here - singin' or bartendin', whatever comes first." He sniffed and raised his glass to her, "Cheers," and took a big swig of his own, his upper lip pulling back a bit. "The good stuff."

Reid took another puff from his cigarette and asked conversationally, "So, what kind of singer." After this he took another small sip of scotch and set it down on the bar.

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"It's easy to read a person," he said with a small shrug, "almost impossible to read a machine though. Never know when they just might...jump." With that, he crushed his cigarette, reached into a leather pouch that was strapped to his right side, but hidden by his cloak, and pulled out another. With a quick stroke across the bar, it was lit, and between his lips a moment later. Ah yes, a beautiful specimen, the chain-smoker.

"Well, good luck with the deal," he continued with a genuine nod and smile, the gesture looking almost alien on his thin face, his cheekbones prominent on his countenance. "And I happen to adore those good ol' boys, quite the legends if you ask me." He cracked his knuckles, both hand sleeved with fingerless black biker gloves.

"I wouldn't mind hearing a cover of yours someday," he finished as she fixed her hair.

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Reid glanced back at the assassin who had entered the room in...good spirits, and then at the male who immediately went to her. His attention was drawn back to his company though as she leaned a bit closer from across the bar. "Well, give me a few more minutes and I'll practically be in your head," he said with a small laugh, another puff of his cigarette.

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod, "some sooner than others." He reached into the pouch again, pulled out another cigarette, and lit it with the end of his own. Reid held it out to her as he answered, "Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that. I travel a bit, I know how to sing too, probably not as pretty as you, but I get my tips." He smiled and nodded, insisting she take the cigarette, the lighted end pointed away from her.

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"Bring it," he accepted the quiz as a challenge and laughed. There was so much going on with Reid at any one time; there was his constant motion, and it was always something, his smoking, his eyes, his boots tapping the ground, and there was the off and on flinches of pain in his face. These usually went unnoticed to the naked eye, but some could catch it. It wasn't just a pain from being scratched, it was evident that it was a deeper, more mortal and physical pain.

It was obvious he didn't think too much of himself, and it was partly because he just didn't care - but he had this sullen confidence and enough of a "don't mess with me" look to be left alone. The smoke was drawn lazily from his nostrils, unless he gave a breath through them, in which case it would come out like a couple of mushroom clouds.

He smiled as she took the cigarette, and then a bit wider as she granted him the prestigious award. "Well I -... Alright then," he looked on as she threw herself over the bar and approached the other two patrons. Reid turned back around and lifted the glass to his lips once again, taking a nice swallow of scotch before a long drag from his cigarette.

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Reid grinned as Jo hopped back over the bar and he drained his glass, setting it down with a satisfying clink. "Well, you are persistent aren't you?" he responded with a small smile. "But, if I had to answer," he continued without missing a beat. He tapped his chin a few times in a mock muse fashion before letting his eyes flit over to her again and answering, "I'd go with artist."

He let a low laugh escape him and returned the cigarette to his mouth, slightly covering the machete on the left side of his waist that had gotten loose from his cloak. After scratching his beard stubble, he reached back behind him and fixed the light-material hood behind him so that it was lying flat on his back and then rested both arms on the bar, putting his full weight on them.

"So," he said, the smile returning in his eyes, "you planning on giving yourself a paycheck for serving those kind folks along with myself?" Reid dipped his head in the direction of the cashier and arched an eyebrow.

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Reid laughed and replied, "Sorry to let you down. But...if I was one...and I'm surely not sayin' I am, but if I happened to be, I don't think tellin' pretty bar girls would be a good first step to layin' low." He shrugged and offered a sly little smile, "That's just me though. And that's a good credo by the way," he continued with his cigarette in hand, not quite looking directly into her eyes, "not taking anyone else's money." He dumped a small load of ash into the nearby tray, the poor little piece of iron beginning to fill up because of his habit.

He grinned at the last part and then gave a nonchalant shrug, "Well honey, I hope you have some kind of spectacular skill to entertain me - I suppose a good song would work, but the point is, I ain't an easy tipper." He sat back in the tall bar chair and shrugged again, offering a playful face, "That's on you though." He finished his cigarette at last and crushed the life out of it, deciding to take a few minute break from the haze.

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Reid burst through the doors of Gambit's, one hand covering his face and the other one feeling around for chairs, tables, and other things of the sort that were natural shin-killers. The door shut behind him and he stumbled through the bar, running into more than one chair and table. Blood seeped through his fingers and ran down his arm.

He began to leave little droplets everywhere he went, the burgundy liquid tapping gently on the wooden floors. "Son of a bitch!" he actually shouted. "Can someone help me?! Anyone?! God damn it!" Reid managed to get to the bar and his very thin form slipped onto a barstool.

The gaunt man removed his hand from his face for a moment, but the deep gash on his head was still very present and fresh, and blood began to run down his face again. He cursed under his breath and replaced his left hand on his head. He was beginning to feel a bit light-headed, the blood loss was starting to tip into the scales of dangerous.

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Just as he was beginning to test out his sewing skills, the young ashen-colored man came toward him, probably from some part of the room Reid hadn't cared to look at before. At first he went on the defensive, gripping right biker-gloved hand into a tight fist, just in case. But his polite words and seemingly eager desire to help him loosened his fingers.

Reid looked at the powder with a certain sense of doubt - had that just come from this guy's wings? He shook the thought away and removed his left hand from the large gash in his head. Blood immediately began to flow down his face and he replied, "Give it a go, Scooter." His accent was vaguely Southern, but time and the city life had worn it away quite a bit.

By now his five o'clock shadow was pretty wet with blood, and the gaunt man wasn't looking so hot.

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Reid was still looking at the powder as Jo came in through the doors. If he could say one thing about her, he liked her style, the rocker thing worked for her, he was one too, in a way. At her questions, he forced himself to grin through the pain, a bit of blood running from his lips to his white teeth.

"Mechanical bear, actually, it's called a semi, or an eighteen wheeler, dependin' on who you ask," he replied, one eye shutting to keep the blood out. "I think I got off pretty lucky, it coulda' killed me - really came out of nowhere." His mouth opened in pain as the powder fell into his wound and he let out an exasperated breath of air. Ouch.

As Rafe did his thing, though, and the wound began to heal, the pain also began to fade. "Uh...thanks, can I uh...pay you, or something?" His left eye stayed shut, giving the blood on his face a chance to dry out, but he glanced at Jo for a moment with his right before returning his available hazel gaze to Rafe.

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"Ah, I see, you're a guardian," Reid said, with a genuine look of recognition. "You're not the first I've come across, and thanks again." He gave the winged man a painful smile and nod and then turned to Jo who was now cleaning the drying blood from his face.

"Uh, no, I wouldn't say car accident," he replied, a mischievous little look appearing in his eye. "More like, I tried to cross a street, and a semi came out of nowhere, managing to only clip my head." Reid laughed at the next part but slightly shook his head, "No, I wish. He kept driving, didn't stop the whole time. I chased him for about a minute, but he was going a bit fast."

He grunted at her last comment and said, "Better get your eyes checked." He let her clean him for a few more seconds, but once the brunt of it was gone, he lightly tapped her wrist and said, "Alright alright, I can manage, thank you." He looked to the both of them and asked, "Either of you fine folks want a cigarette, I sure as hell could use one."

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"Alright youngster," he replied, reaching into the leather sack that held his cigarettes, hidden by his thin, dark cloak. Reid struck the cigarette against the adjacent tabletop, and it lit immediately, the smoke lazily being pulled away as he handed it off. He was obviously a kid, but hey, maybe a taste of this thing would be enough to keep him away from the habit forever.

He laughed at her suggestion and bumped his eyebrows, "You know, I was just thinking that exact same thing." After she accepted his offer, Reid pulled out two more cigarettes, muttered "amateur", when he saw her lighter, and struck the cigarettes across the calloused forefinger of his left hand, effectively lighting them.

After licking his lips, and placed his cancer stick in between them and held Jo's out to her, "There you are." With his free hand, he began to wipe the blood off of the arm he had used to keep pressure on the wound.

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"Uh, alright, if you insist," Reid responded, taking the cigarette back and slipping it back into the pouch - that was weird. "I'm Reid, it's a pleasure." He smiled a bit and nodded at Jo, "I agree, but hey, when you're stuck somewhere with no access to either a lighter or a match, you get creative."

As the smoke filled his lungs, he relaxed a little; that whole little ordeal had come with a lot more blood than he wanted, a lot more unnecessary pain too. And of course there was always the terrible feeling of having an opponent you can't fight, like a sudden eighteen wheeler hit and run. He let the smoke waft out of his nostrils as usual, looking over as Jo stretched, the movement catching his eyes.

Reid thought he caught a glimpse of something shiny under one of her arms, but he gave no indication of having seen a thing. Instead he scratched the back of his shaved head and splayed the bloody rag into his lap; he had finished cleaning himself off fairly well, only a few flakes of darkened blood were scattered here and there.

It wasn't too long before he noticed the slightly overdressed young lady by herself, writing something onto some aged-looking paper. Reid looked up at Jo and shrugged, then back at the lady, "Howdy." He tipped an invisible hat and returned his attention to his company sitting on and around the table. "So, how's your day been?"

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Reid smiled and half shrugged, "Yeah I suppose, I get a few weird looks from time to time though. Then again...that kinda' just happens anyway." He laughed a low short-lived laugh and then followed up with, "I guess the whole drug dealer appearance doesn't help my social standings - it's a wonder why I'm not royalty."

He looked to Rafe and made an apologetic frown as he shook his head, "No, sorry pal." Reid looked on as Jo brushed the blood flakes away from his arm; with his free hand, he took the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke away in the opposite direction of his company.

He arched an eyebrow at her reply to his question and asked, "Are you some kind of detective? And uh...besides my chat with Optimus Prime back there, my day went...well." He said the last word with a hint of omission. "I went fishing."