Home Planet: N/A
Crew:  --------
[u]Race:[/u] 'Chimera' (Artificial humans made from old artificial-soldier criteria. Their design was repurposed from a recently shot-down illegal genetics lab floating in null-space run by 'Traganavia' industries)
[u]Name:[/u] 'Jericho' Kaite 073 (pronounced like Kite) (Hates being called by his number more than anything)
[u]Age:[/u]  2 (Rapid maturation and genetic works allow Kaite to seem roughly 16-18 with the mentality as though they were in their mid-30s. Unfortunately, due to rapid maturation, artificial subjects in such ways often have stunted growth...and impressively short life spans ranging between 5-20)
[u]Skills:[/u] Living in a world slowed down for them, Kaite's reflexes on small scale are wired almost as thrice as fast as the average human. However, this mostly pertains to fine-finger dexterity.
-Ingrained advanced knowledge of ship-based weapon calibrations and operations based on combat records, especially those of skilled fighter pilots...for the purpose of shooting such skilled pilots down. 

-Ingrained advanced knowledge of small arms design, mostly pertaining to pistols. However, "A rubix cube of varying layers ultimately relies on the same principals and rules" 

-Ingrained advanced knowledge of most humanoid biology for the purpose of first-aid. When it comes to humans and human subspecies, specifically, Kaite is quite skilled in reassembling...and, consequently, disassembling the anatomy in question. (With the aforementioned latent viciousness, a simple knight stick in the hands of even an unimposing individual as Kaite can become a terrifying tool with the right application. Atypical humanoid anatomy can be addressed in a similar way, although to an ultimately less...elegant...result) 

-Kaite has a fond interest in cooking and prefers to cook for himself rather than partake in the mess hall with the others for reasons unclear. He also has a taste for electro swing music, though this has only been picked up by those walking by his room. He has a small collection of stuffed animals, but mainly aquatic types...nobody is allowed in his room per request, so this information is not known and he'd deny it to the grave. 

-In simulations, Kaite has better-than-average assessment scores for combat piloting. However, their value within the ship outweighs the numbers they'd be bringing to such statistics.

Personality: Kaite is more often than not straight to the point and professional to the letter, taking great pride and respect for the cause they've been 'enlisted' into. However, they are still very young to the world and the workings of people, and is easily taken aback by the factor of emotion. This isn't to say that they are lacking in charisma, empathy or feeling, only that they have a stark two-face where they put business before the former. Many see this as cold...cold calculations with 'humanity' worn as a mask over which. He is otherwise curious of subjects out of his field of expertise and is quick to excite at potential opportunities to know more about the world he lives in. Kaite has a profound distrust of robots border-lining fear for reasons which there are many theories regarding...none of which he will entertain. He speaks with a slight French accent (Vich I vill abuse zeh hell out ouf in-character).

Appearance: Kaite stands at a physically unimposing 5'2. His hair is sheen with what seems like white but fades to a light blonde as the hair length continues; the follicles holding a mild bioluminescence. This also shows in his eyes which hold a mint green (or amber for their right eye). The hair holds a slight wave to it and is usually worn about longer than average. From that protrudes long bunny ears with similarly colored fur, though the short hair is mainly white with little to no bioluminescence. The bushy fluff of his tail shares these qualities. Deep amber eyes with a sharp sapphire blue ring around the edges, though this is obscured by their glasses designed to eases stress on the eyes from all the time they spend staring at monitor screens. Kaite is often clad in regulation attire which, by appearance, take great pride in their work and care to upholding the image (Although comes off more adorable than respectable due to their build). An adaptation upon request is to add an inch to the heel of his boots to make him seem that much taller...he is considering switching back due to looks he's reportedly been given.

[Hider=Better Pic]Minus the hat, and cloak(for most ship-side instances).
[img]http://www.wallpaperhi.com/thumbnails/detail/20130120/touhou%20uniforms%20army%20military%20flowers%20weapons%20eyepatch%20green%20eyes%20monochrome%20selective%20coloring%20bada_www.wallpaperhi.com_89.jpg[/img][/Hider]

History:  I wasn't the strongest or fastest, and I certainly wasn't the only one. There were more, maybe twenty at one point that I know of. It was usually very dark, making it difficult to tell how many of us there were, at first. Sometimes one would go missing, or [i]they[/i] would come and take a few at a time. None of us understood why some came back and some didn't...not even me, and I was one that came back.

I kept coming back, being lead down the noisy halls of machinery and howling beasts. Down to 'my room', where I learned; the needles in my spine, the clamps to hold my eyes open, being allowed to see only what and when they wanted me to. My first year was the hardest. It wasn't so much the process as it was the topic; used to the procedures, the topics of war, anatomy, physics and humanities bombarded my senses. I'm thankful for most of it, although it quickly made my world quite lonely. Many of the others didn't speak, or were barely even aware where they even were. I 'graduated' to living in a cell, since it got to a point where it was considered inhumane to have to pick me out of 'the pits'...or more arguably, to put me back in. Four walls and a ceiling never seemed so welcoming, especially considering how I could see them. Teachings changed after that to genetics and experimentation...and the Newman project. Truthfully, it was easier to understand and accept once I was just told that, yes, I was a clone being held prisoner for experimentation, my brothers in the pits are borderline mindless animals and no, I was not special, just chosen for a different task.

Tasks...I was shown reports of the others' tasks and the testing involved. 039 Was a drooling mute of a hulk that ate bones and needed little oxygen for hours while it was left to toil away, lifting weights and fighting other rejects of its kind, often to the death and often unprovoked. He's the oldest. 055 is...like a rodent, so to speak, you know, if it doesn't chew on something, its teeth grow into its brain. There was apparently an attempt to replicate this effect with an entire skeletal structure. They could never figure out how to stop the growths besides grinding them down after they start piercing the skin. I heard talk of bets being taken; apparently it wasn't uncommon for terminal malformations to occur. It wasn't unlike 042 whose endless bouts of energy pushed them to run until their muscles gave out. They supposedly died from a heart attack a few minutes later. Needless to say, those lessons stopped after a short time, but it still left me wondering just what was the plan for me? I felt fortunate, however lame dying from a chess game sounded, that whatever I had been tailored for didn't require me to suffer like the others...and then the implants came.

The dull pains in my head and chest made it hard to sleep. It was nice how I barely saw them coming, but whatever they had done, it was...different. In some instances I shook so violently that most sensation washed away besides it. I was always so cold and sick for a time after the bouts that I almost couldn't stand. The machines debated about rejection, though it was proposed that bioware implants often had rocky acceptance stages to installation, especially when the endocrine system is involved. The events gradually diminished my resolve, and by the time [i]it[/i] happened, there was little I could do to fight the hands that stuffed me into what I came to know as an 'escape pod'.