Byrd Man — Roleplayer Guild

"Transmit the message, to the receiver
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas
You don't even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading
Everything's ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nighttime
I might not ever get home."
--Talking Heads

Ultimate One Universe: Year Two Application

Character You're Applying For: Tom Tresser codename NEMESIS 

Powers And Abilities:

No powers, but Tresser is a special forces veteran trained in multiple forms of armed and unarmed combat. In addition to physical skills, Tresser is a master of disguise and capable of convincingly portraying almost anyone.

Origin And Backstory (In A Maximum Of Four Paragraphs):

Tom Tresser didn't mean to become the world's best spy. It just happened. After joining the Navy right out of high school, Tresser was picked for special forces duty and after months of grueling training became a member of the Navy's DEVGRU team, aka SEAL Team Six. While a member of Six, Petty Officer Tresser took part in countless counter-terrorism missions at home and abroad, all of them classified.

Special forces work proved to be an easy transition into spy work for Tresser. He left the Navy and became a member of the CIA Special Activities Division. As a member of the Activity, Tresser conducted covert missions ranging from assassinations and honey traps, to psychological warfare and enhanced interrogation. While with the Activity, Tresser learned spycraft and mastered the art of disguise.

After six years with the Activity, Tresser was recruited by a man called Sarge Steel. Sarge represented the Council, a secret organization inside the US Government dedicated to recording and protecting the secret history of the world. The Council's main opponent was an organization known as LEVIATHAN, a former Soviet intelligence organ turned rogue criminal empire. The assignment for Tresser would be deep, deep cover. His entire history would be rewritten by Steel, turning the decorated SEAL and spy into a dishonorably discharged basketcase. He would be dangled above the criminal underworld as bait for LEVIATHAN, a man with a backstory and qualifications perfect for the organization.

Tresser went back to his home town of Baltimore and tried to find work as an armed enforcer while he waited for LEVIATHAN to make contact. He didn't have to wait long. Just three months after leaving the CIA an international arms dealer made contact with him. He needed a man of Tresser's skill to help him do business. With Sarge's approval, Tresser took the job. Almost one year into the assignment and lines have begun to blur. With no idea who he's working for and why, Tresser has begun to wonder where the lie ends and the truth begins.

What Makes This Character 'Ultimate'?:

I'm taking Nemesis and I guess grounding him a little more in reality and making him a bit more gritty. Inspired by stuff like the Mission Impossible series, Training Day, and The Americans I kind of want to tell a story about how fragile our identity is. There's a Vonnegut quote I used last season with Constantine that kind of serves as a thesis for this story: “We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.”

Supporting Characters:

Sarge Steel -- Tom's handler.

Werner "Vertigo" Zytle -- Tom's boss, a metahuman weapon's trafficker the ability to disrupt people's equilibrium at will. 

Valentina de Fontaine -- SHIELD agent on Tresser's trail.

Brig. General Terrence "Yorkie" Mitchell -- Former SAS officer, now head of Task Force 66 aka "The Losers", an international anti-terrorism hunter-killer squad.

Cpt. Rick Flag --  Delta Force operator and now field leader of The Losers.

Lt. Brian Falsworth -- Special Boat Service member and second in command of the Losers.

Sgt. Georges Batroc  -- Member of Commandement des forces spéciales and member of The Losers.

Sgt. Christoph Nord -- Originally a Kommando Spezialkräfte sniper, now does the same job for The Losers.

Dean Swarbrick & Johnny Frost -- Hoods who work for the Kansas City Mob.

Arthur Blackwood -- Outlaw biker and white supremacist. Vertigo client. 

Anton Trojak -- The man above Vertigo, rumored to be part of LEVIATHAN high command.

Sample Post
"Mr. Saturday Night Special" 

Hot Springs, Arkansas

Music

Tom Tresser took the gun out of his shoulder holster and passed it to the man in the fatigues. The big man flashed a smug smile before he led Tresser through the dark corridor. Somewhere he could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd. The music grew louder as they came out of the hallway and into the backroom of the Hot Springs Gun Club. Confederate flags draped every wall. There was a cardboard shooting target of the last president of the US, a neat little hole in the middle of the president's forhead. Three men in fatigues that matched the guards were sitting on worn out couches and cleaning rifles. 

"Gun man," Supreme General John "Jeb" Stuart said as he stood from the couch. "That time of the year already?"

"Sure is," said Tresser. "What can I get for the Free White Republic of Hot Springs?"

"I got an idea," Stuart said with a laugh.

He pulled a handgun from the holster on his hip and put it against Tresser's temple. The three other men in the room began to heehaw at the sight of the big .45 pressed against the side of Tresser's head.

"You can tell me why the fuck you're talking to the government."

---

Bush Intercontinental Airport
Houston, Texas
Two Days Earlier

"Say cheese, Tresser."

Sarge Steel grinned as he passed the glossy paper to Tresser. It was a black and white surveillance photo of him. The man just at the edge of the frame was Fernando Diaz, cocaine kingpin of Miami and one of Vertigo's many clients. The two of them were on Diaz's private dock, Tresser dressed in black and Diaz in a speedo. 

"Where'd you get this?"

"SHIELD," said Steel. "They've got a file on you now. Mozel tov, kid."

"Fuck."

Tresser looked around. He and Steel were the only two sitting at the gate. The flight to Chicago had just boarded. Tresser had flown in a few hours ago from Albuquerque and proceeded to the meeting point with Steel. Steel came in from... wherever the hell it was he came from, Tresser guessed. He sure as fuck had no idea if Steel had an office and where it was. He always dressed in cargo shorts, flip flops, and a Hawaiian shirt regardless of the year and always had a sucker in his mouth.

"It's a good thing. You're on their radar. Actually making a name for yourself."

"Yeah, and that also means I can get busted by the cops."

"Anybody busts you," Steel said with a smile. "You call that number I gave you and you waltz right out."

"Sure," Tresser said with a sigh. "A government agency that doesn't exist on paper has the power to just get me out of jail at the snap of its fingers."

"You want The Council to have flying fucking battleships, Tresser? Secret agency means it'a fucking secret, son. Says so in the title."

"Right, whatever. What do you need from me, Steel?"

"Update on Vertigo, his movements. What's going on with his superiors?"

"I'm hired help, so I don't know shit about the superiors," Tresser said with a shrug. "But as far as movements. He's meeting with prospective clients in Asia. There's some very conservative Japanese nationalists who'd like hardware. I'm on my way to Arkansas to meet some backwoods militia fucks, their quarterly reup on weapons."

"We'll look into." Steel stood and looked down at Tresser. "In the meantime, the SHIELD file helps get you exposure. You don't know about the people Vertigo work for, but you will. Just keep at it."

Steel winked and started down the terminal in his flip flop-clad feet. Tresser watched him go, shaking his head softly at the sight of Steel walking with a jovial pep in his step.

---

Hot Springs
Now

"We got eyes everywhere, boy," Stuart. "They saw you talking to that government man in Houston two days ago."

Tresser closed his eyes and sighed. Fucking Steel. Fucking Steel. Fucking Steel. One of the other militiamen let out a humorless chuckle. 

"You and that faggot you work for are a bunch of informers. We don't take too kindly to informers."

Tresser opened his eyes again. He took note of the four men in the room and started. He grabbed Stuart by the wrist, shoving his gun up into the air as he popped off two shots. With one hand on Stuart's wrist, he used the palm of his free hand to drive it into one of the approaching guard's noses. When he fell, Tresser turned to Stewart and twisted his wrist until it snapped. Stuart let go of the gun and Tresser caught it before it could fall.

He spun and gunned down the two militamen assembling their rifles before the two men could get completely off the couch. Tresser looked down at the man he had hit with the palm of his hand. The twitching of his leg let him know the man was in the process of dying, his nose driven into his brainstem. 

"Who else knows?" Tresser yelled at Stuart. 

"Wha?" Stuart asked. His brain was fogged by the pain of the broken wrist and the quick turn of events. "Know what?"

"About me and that man?"

"...Just me...."

Tresser pulled the trigger of the gun twice. Stuart was dead before he hit the floor. Cursing, he dropped the gun by Stuart's body and started back to his car. With this being the gun club, the sounds of the shooting wouldn't attract much attention. But he had to go and be long gone by the time anyone else came back.

It was a long drive back to Houston and he'd need every minute to try to come up with an excuse Vertigo would believe.
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