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Charlie Redmond

"I thought I was already as outside as it got."

0 · 435 views · located in America

a character in “Touch”, as played by comicbooklover

Description

Image


Full Name: Charles M. Redmond

Nickname(s):Charlie, Eeyore

Age: 15

Gender: Male

From: Outside

Role: Charlie is the type of guy who will do anything to survive.

Appearance: Charlie, although he is 15, appears somewhat small and scrawny, appearing almost starved. He has long brown shaggy hair at a very boyish cut and bright blue eyes. He isn't very muscular, but has just a bit of muscle on him. He is very tall for his age, standing at about 6'. He is practically skin and bones, his decontamination suit looking baggy on him. But, everyone in the outside world looks pretty much like him. Around his neck, under his suit, he wears a necklace with a rabbit's foot on it.

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Personality: Charlie is a very strange person. He is very talkative and friendly if you get to know him, but most don't want to because he just looks like bad luck. It's as if there's always a cloud over him that's raining. Yet somehow he hasn't been touched, just lived long enough to see everyone he loves go first. Charlie is very quiet when he isn't approached first. He tries to smile a lot, but he just looks like a little kid to everyone. To other's they think he is just something else they'll have to take care of. But, starting a friendship with this guy has it's benefits.
Charlie is very cautious. He always seems to know where trouble is and can turn the other direction, although it always seems to follow him. Sometimes he appears depressing to others, but they just don't understand him. He is really a nice guy, but the only way you'll know that if if you take the time to find it out for yourself.

Likes:
Card or Board Games
Candy
Rain
Storms
Sleep
Taffy



Dislikes:
Loud Noises
Trouble
People getting too close
Easy Ways Out
Crying
Children
Being called a Child






Skills: Creeping people out, Getting in trouble, Skateboarding, Being avoided, Running, Surviving harsh conditions alone

Quirks: Is easily annoyed by kids, Is allergic to dogs, Doesn't have very good eyesight, Can't fight well

Fears: Being touched, Suffering, Dogs, Being used as a pawn, Being tricked

History: Charlie was born to loving parents who lived in England. He grew up homeschooled, becoming very attached to his mom and dad. His parents enjoyed traveling a lot and took him with them, so he had been to about four continents before he was five. When he was eight they all moved to America because his dad had found work their, but his British accent never left. He continued to be homeschooled in America, and he didn't really make many friends.
When his parents were killed by the touch, he somehow came out alive and he tried as hard as he could to survive. He began stealing from broken down grocery stores and helping no one but himself. He isn't selfish, but he is still trying to get out of this epidemic alive.
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Theme Song: Trouble- Ray LaMontagne http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3pltmw6cmI
Trouble...
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble
Trouble been doggin' my soul since the day I was born
Worry...
Worry, worry, worry, worry
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone

Other: I'm going to attempt to write Charlie's posts in a British was, but since I'm American I'll have to spell things like mom and color differently, so I might not succeed.

Sample Post:
(This is just a snippit of his life before the touch. It really has nothing to do with the roleplay)

Charlie's feet dragged along the cold ground, making some kind of rhythm. He seemed almost mesmerized with it, not even bothering to look up and actually watch where he was going. Charlie bumped into people as he walked, angry people muttering curses at him. He ignored them but eventually let out a mutter. "Americans," he groaned, shaking his head. He was fourteen, having been here six years already, but he still seemed like a stranger in a foreign land. He still was angry with his parents for dragging him here. He missed London and the small amount of friends he had there.

"Sir!" came a hoarse voice from somewhere behind him. Figuring the voice was talking to someone else, he continued walking, but the voice called out again. He turned, seeing a man sitting on the side of the road, staring directly at him. The man was an older gentleman, with white long hair and a long beard to match. He had wrinkles adorning his face, almost hiding his pale eyes that were filled with knowledge and wisdom. His clothes were tattered, dirty, and torn. Charlie didn't know the man even slightly. He had no idea what the man wanted, besides the probable assumption of money, which he soon saw to be correct.

"Do you have any spare change?" the man asked, confirming Charlie's suspicions. He stuck his hands in his pockets and found a very crumpled up five dollar bill. He handed it to the gent, who eyed him like he had suddenly grown wings on his back and a halo over his head. Obviously kids his age didn't offer money to people on the streets much in America. "You're a saint," the man whispered. This just made Charlie laugh.

"I'm far from that," Charlie said. The gentleman seemed to laugh also. Then he pulled something out from around his neck and seemed to admire it for a minute before holding it out to Charlie. It was a rabbit's foot on a small, worn piece of yarn.

"Take this," he said, nodding to the foot. "For good luck." Good luck was something Charlie didn't believe in, nor did he want to rob the man. He was about to speak when the man seemed to have read his mind. "You'll need it more than I will," he said, shoving the necklace into Charlie's hand.

Charlie was about to ask what he meant, but the man stood up and walked away, leaving Charlie's wrinkled five-dollar-bill lying where he had just been sitting. Charlie picked it up and was about to go find the gentleman, but he was long gone.So, he put the necklace around him, still feeling uneasy about the conversation, but moved on, continuing the pattern with his feet.
__________________________________________________________________________

So begins...

Charlie Redmond's Story

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Charlie's eyes fluttered open. Had he fallen asleep? How long had he been out? His head pounded. It was a really horrible feeling to be dying. But, he stood up and looked at his arm. The spot where he had been bitten was swollen, surrounded by pink inflamed skin, and red, blood seeping from it. He groaned, bending over to pick up his bag and rummage through it and pull out some painkillers. He didn't have anything to swallow them with, so he forced three down his throat dry. It might have been an overdose, but Charlie was too confused to notice. He grabbed his Exact-O-Knife, which was covered in blood, and his flashlight. Now if he could just remember which way the exit was...

Charlie looked to his left and to his right. Which way down the tunnel was it? He remembered walking with a guy, the name had slipped his mind, but which way was which? Charlie stumbled down the right, walking like a drunk and confused man. His mind was hazy, but he thought this was the right way.

"Charlie..." someone spoke from the distance. Charlie's head snapped up to see an old man standing in front of him. The man had white hair and a beard that surrounded his face like a lion's mane.

"Who are you?" Charlie asked, the old man who had given him his rabbit's foot was not ringing a bell in his disoriented mind.

"Charlie, listen to me, you're confused and hurt," he said, sounding calm. Charlie looked down at himself, his white haz-mat suit covered in blood, some his and some of it belonging to the Loonies. Charlie looked up, panicked. The man reached out and tried to grab him by the shoulder, but Charlie pulled away.

"You don't wanna touch me... Something bad happened..." he said, unable to quite remember all the events of what had occurred in the catacombs.

"It's okay," he reassured Charlie. "I know the way out. Just follow me." The man quickly turned and began walking deeper into the tunnel. Charlie obediently followed, passing by familiar signs, like the skeleton with skin still attached in parts. Charlie didn't recognize any of these until he ran into the end of the tunnel, with a ladder attached to the wall that led into a hole in the roof. Charlie turned to thank the old man, but he was gone. Charlie shook his head, ignoring it, and climbed up the ladder his head poking through the broken floorboards that he had moved only a few hours earlier. Sunlight hit him, causing him to shield his face with his hands. He pulled himself out, heaving his bag up with him. He stood up, dusted himself off, and blinked. The house wasn't ringing a bell. So, Charlie stepped outside to be greeted by a giant view of The Dome in the distance, which was being flooded by people who were crawling on top of it and lining up around the sides. Acting like this was totally normal, Charlie began walking towards the huge crowd. But, if he touched someone unknowingly, who was to know what would happen.

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Charlie was lost- mentally and physically. He seemed oblivious to all of his surroundings, but luckily had gained some composure and could walk straight. He guessed he had a concussion or something along those lines, for he couldn't hardly remember his name, nor what the heck was going on. As he walked, he noticed the gates to a very large mansion open, the security somehow disabled. Charlie noticed some cars inside- could he drive? He couldn't remember if he ever had before, but it might be a faster way to get around. So, he quietly pulled the unlocked gate open, listening as it made a horrible rusty squeaking noise the more he moved it. When it was enough for him to enter, he stepped through and slowly pulled it back into place. He hurried to the cars, examining them, but noticed a giant buggy. It was much bigger than the other cars. It might be of use... For some reason Charlie felt like it was supposed to ring a bell, but he didn't remember it, so he eagerly pulled the car open, finding it was unlocked. He was quite lucky. He hopped in and shut the door. The key wasn't in the ignition.

"Do you know how to hot-wire a car, Chuckie?" he asked himself, as if he was going to answer himself. "Wait, I think it's Charlie. Charlie, Chuckie, same difference." He shrugged it off, as if not knowing his own name was normal. He slid down into the bottom of the buggy and grabbed his Exact-O-Knife. He pushed the knife between the wheel and the column, then pushed the locking pin away from the wheel. He quickly put the knife against the metal spokes and the engine roared the life. He smiled. "Chuckie, you're a genius, even if you can't remember a single stinkin' thing."

Charlie quickly drove away in the buggy, crashing through the unlocked gate and driving toward the chaos around The Dome. His headache had reduced a lot, so he finally was coming to his senses, although he still must have taken some blow to the head. He didn't even notice that somewhere along the way he had lost the helmet to his hazmat suit. He was a wreck, but at least he was a wreck with a ride.

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Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: Torex Character Portrait: William Walker
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The girls both seemed weary of his presence, probably just as weary as the human part of him was of them. They introduced themselves, stating that their names were William and Viola. The girl, Viola, stuck her hand out for him to shake. She held her right hand, which was his only good one. He smiled and shook.

"Just call me Torex," he said, blankly. He still hadn't answered the questions that they probably harbored in their mind, like if he was going to hurt them. But he had questions of his own he wished to ask. "You seem to be from the outside, but you aren't attacking anyone inside The Dome. Why?" he asked, their human reasoning lost on him.

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POP

The buggy came to a stop, jolting Charlie, who wasn't wearing a seat belt, forward, but not hard enough for him to go anywhere. He tried pushing the gas again, but nothing happened. "Bull..." he trailed off as he hopped out of the car, seeing his fears. The tire had blown and he had no idea if there were any spares in the buggy. He ran his hand through his thick brown hair. What was he going to do now?

Charlie went around to the back and searched through it, but he only found military weapons, like guns and knives. He smiled as he picked up a small pistol. It was a bit heavier than Charlie imagined, but he could also tell it was loaded, so he didn't complain. He decided that no one else needed these weapons, so he pulled out the shampoo from his bag, which was bound to have some sort of oil in it somewhere, and walked around the buggy, rationing it out as best as he could, yet attempting to drench the car. Once he only had a bit left, he walked to the back and poured it out over the guns. Did he have a lighter?

After searching through his bag and the buggy, the answer was no. He groaned, frustrated. Why did things always have to be so hard? He wandered over to the side of the road, where a hole in the pavement allowed grass to grow, he pulled the dry grass out and walked back over to to the buggy. After sitting that down, he found a tree down the road, off to the side, and broke off a branch. He used his Exact-O-Knife to cut a v shaped notch into the stick and began spinning. It took a while, but eventually the stuck sparked, catching the grass on fire. He used the stick to carry the nest of grass over the buggy and, after taking a few more guns to stuff into his pack, threw it onto the guns, lighting the whole buggy on fire. Obviously Chuckie had more survival skills than Charlie...

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Character Portrait: Charlie Redmond Character Portrait: Viola Marius Character Portrait: William Walker
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"How about a deal? We won't rat you out, if you don't rat us out. We got a deal, mate?"

A smile appeared on Torex's face. The girl really hadn't counted the odds. Torex was a rouge robot. Of course he wouldn't risk going to the authorities and getting caught just to see them to justice. Nor would they turn them in, since they were from the outside. It wasn't an honor system. It was just survival.

"Why would you want to come here?" Torex asked, ignoring her question. "No one is allowed in nor are they allowed out. You're pretty much-"

Torex was interrupted by a horrified scream outside. He turned to see a woman run into the glass of the store, staring at them with wild eyes, before being dragged away. Torex cringed, something he was unaware that he could do. "You wanted to be apart of this?" he was quite curious to why anyone would want to be trapped in this horrible Dome. He was here because his creators had sent him here... but now everything was crumbling apart.

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It was hard for Charlie to admit it although it was as clear as day. He couldn't remember anything beyond the first few days of the Touch and for obvious reasons, he knew he had it. It was dark now and he didn't know when he had been touched. He could die any second now, just collapse onto the floor. But he had other things to worry about.

The Loonies who had failed to get into the Dome were now angry and wandering the streets, looking for people to take out their anger on. Charlie was armed with two guns that he didn't know how to use, but how hard could it be, right? Don't you just pull the trigger?

Charlie hurried past a group of Loonies beating each other to bloody pulps. Charlie hardly remembered Loonies, but seeing them now was enough to make him shudder. Keeping his head down, he walked past them quietly. They continued their business, whatever the heck their business was, and Charlie walked by, undetected. But, just to be safe, he kept his finger on the trigger of the pistol in his hand. He hurried on his way, whatever way that might be. His head was pointed down, watching as his feet scraped along the chipped concrete streets.

POP

Charlie looked up to see a blast of fire a few houses away from him. The noise startled him, causing him to pull the trigger, a bullet ringing out from a gun. The building on fire was quite large. Charlie wasn't sure what had happened, so he was curious. He made his way toward the building, heat making him have to cover his mouth with his elbow, sending instant pain through the wound on his arm, which was still bleeding quite heavily. Charlie sat down, figuring the fire would eventually burn itself out and he'd safely investigate. He pulled out the cheesy popcorn from his bag, because of course he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten.

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Charlie had never liked nose bleeds. Not that he fully remembered, of course, but even without his memory having his blood gush out of his nose made him feel queasy. He ripped off a piece of his white haz-mat suit and stuffed it up his nostrils, even though it didn't seem to be working.

Although he didn't care to examine himself, he could almost feel his infection raging through his body, yet was determined not to let it slow him down. He had basically inhaled half of the cheese flavored popcorn and for once he felt a bit full. The feeling didn't last very long.

Charlie pulled his rabbit's foot necklace out from under his suit and studied it, turning it with his fingers. He remembered the old man had given it to him, saying that one day he would need it, but he didn't understand how it was helping him. He could remember that he had been touched. Luck had abandoned him. What good what it do for him if he would just die in the end?

Dropping the rabbit's foot and stuffing it into his suit, he stood up. He made a grab for his popcorn and stuffed it in his pack. His gun was still tightly gripped in his hand, but he figured waiting would only make him bored and anxious. The fire had died down and it looked safe to explore. How in the world could a building just implode?

Charlie pressed his foot down on the first of the few steps. The ashes seemed to crunch under his weight, but so far it was sturdy enough to hold him. So, he marched into the building and slammed his shoulder into the door. Unfortunately it was unlocked so he tumbled in and crashed into a table with a collection of colorful, dead butterflied in a case. The glass shattered when he landed on it, most of it scattering across his brown hair, but he shook most of it off and stood up. He looked around, finally realizing that the place was some sort of museum. Bones hung on the walls next to artwork. A poisoned tipped sword sat in a case and Charlie debated on breaking it out and using it, but he figured he'd end up hurting himself.

It didn't take long for him to find the staircase. It wasn't too far from the reception desk. The stairs didn't look super sturdy, so he raced up as fast as he could. The wood didn't crumple underneath him- maybe the lucky rabbit foot was finally working right. It still seemed more like rotten luck to Charlie, but he didn't have the heart to throw it away.

The upstairs didn't seem like much of a museum, more like a small, cluttered collection. A few wax figures stood, giving Charlie an evil looking glare, but he put a bullet through both of them, even if they weren't real. You can never be too safe. He figured the museum had been robbed a lot after the touch. Maybe they had been the pinnacle of all history before the apocalypse, but now it looked like a trashy yard sale.

Charlie quickly found bathrooms. He didn't even know if they worked, since the toilets were probably burnt into a pile of ashes, but at least he could... unload... somewhere better than the side of the road. The boy's room wouldn't budge so he used the ladies' restroom. He walked past the mirrors, getting a glimpse of himself. He looked horrible: he was so skinny his small suit seemed like it might fall off any second, his brown locks a wild mess, and he was covered in blood and dirt, a nasty, sticky mixture. Charlie shook it off. He had more important things to do than worry about his looks. So, he took a step toward the stalls, but his rabbit foot must have not been working because he fell straight through the floor, through the one on the first floor too, and landed in the basement.

As he landed, he heard his bones crunch and crack under him, all the air shoved out of him. How he survived the fall, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was in the cold, dark, basement, and was possibly dead. But, on a positive note, he didn't have to use the toilet anymore- he had already taken care of that as he fell down.

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