Hawlin — Roleplayer Guild

Name: 073 
Operator 073: Jericho "Bedlam" Kaite
073 - Production number (0 being the yearly trimester of production (first). 73 being their number out of 100 produced)
Jericho - A name taken up while on the streets. Its origins are unknown, but it is his preferred name.
Kaite - A feminine name he kept from his time on the streets. Not his favourite, but it means something to him enough to keep it.
 "Bedlam" - Not used in his name. Hates it. Used to mock his occasional instability.
"Operator" - Not used in his name. Callsign.


Age: Appears 15-17 (2.4 (Mentally 23-28*)) 

Appearance: Standing at 5'9ft with a lean swimmer's build, Jericho has a dark complexion contrasted by nearly snow-white hair which holds only a slight blonde hue to offset. The same shade of gold flecks the edges of his otherwise sky blue eyes. Two 3-point antlers protrude from their head (Currently short, though whittled into sharp, jagged points to the point where white substructure can be seen). A small white pointed fluff of a tail with blond stripes completes the deer splice.
In the ways of attire, Kaite is often clad in a faded deep-blue long-sleeved turtleneck fitted with a hood which would never fit, for obvious reasons. Over it is a light black and red plaid vest. Tight black jeans tucked into ankle-boots completes the common ensemble, though the colours are known to shift, and the vest being replaced with a baggy drab-grey denim coat two sizes too big, tattered from use.


- Proficient at network decoding/cracking (hacking, in short)
- Highly resilient to fatigue from sleep deprivation
- A basic understanding of hand-to-hand combat and techniques borrowed from bastardization of various fighting styles. 'Street fighting' in short, although Kaite has the advantage of essentially an array of knives affixed to his head. Kaite is deadly with blades of most practical sizes, everything from fighting to throwing. Kaite is highly inexperienced with guns, having no experience with them other than seeing pistols at a distance.
- Disturbingly versed in human anatomy, though possessing little medical knowledge at the moment. This knowledge has so far only been exercised for the purpose of surgically gimping a handful of gangers for life...intentionally. However, for the purpose of 'putting things back the way they should be', Kaite is skilled at setting stitches and being concise during advanced first-aid.

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Personality:  'Fearful' comes to mind, and with good reason. Reasons being left to the bio, Kaite's personality is split between himself and electronic identity, causing a distinct separation with reality that borders on a split personality. "Kaite" is timid and reclusive, preferring to be left to pseudo-ritualistic tasks like carving up their antlers which shed every few weeks, anyway. They are knowledgeable about topics they know and helpful when they feel that they are needed, but otherwise play wallflower. They are skittish and easily manipulated to sensible limits, but are quick to challenge what they don't believe with reason rather than emotion.
That one is a constant...emotion. Rather, the lack of it.
"Jericho" is cold and calculating, analyzing and dissecting a situation on statistics while flippantly shirking personal bias. Sociable and witty, they are rich with cynicism and passive aggressiveness (or in certain instances, blatant aggressiveness) as a means towards their goal, whatever they may see it to be. While they are the same person, they usually function in a grey area between the two. (I'll be using colors for each as they distinctly present themselves; the idea being the beginning point where 073 is just starting to fall apart.) 'Kaite' is who 073 is, while 'Jericho' is who 073 sees themselves as needing to be, worn as a guise more than anything. 'Jericho's ideal is to tackle their fears and make it theirs as a splay of dominance more to themselves than anyone around them. To show that the world isn't as scary as you'd think...to show that nightmares need only be woken up from...to show that there are scarier things than what you think goes bump in the night.

In all, they are distrusting and aware of themselves. Because of this, they prefer to keep their distance, although acknowledge that their lot in life doesn't allow such luxury. Because of 073's atypical origins, a considerable amount is unknown about how they function or think. At the moment, 073 is considered dangerous to themselves and those around them, although this assumption has yet to be confirmed in any way. The note in his file has been widely overlooked.

The Triganavia megaclinic stood for 5 years, offering aesthetic implants to those with the money to pay for such implants and grafting of animalistic qualities, fitted with a jewelry outfitter with everything from hair-ware to "animal-friendly" fur attire.
What the public wasn't aware of was the means of procuring such products...
The corporation endeavored to make aesthetic bioware like animal ears/tails, eyes, fur and that sort of thing. Really, anything you can imagine being made from fur. To do this, they messily cranked out clones spliced with various animal dna and then butcher them for parts for processing. Organic waste was reprocessed and sold to fuel companies as an 'alternative bio-fuel'.
The average supersoldier with the accelerated aging considered has a lifespan of about 5-15 years. The things that 'Triganavia' made were closer to 3-7 with cognitive rampancy setting in around 3-5.

I wasn't the strongest or fastest, and I certainly wasn't the only one. There were more, maybe thirty 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 they 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 destined for the chopping block and no, I was not special, just chosen for different tasks.

Tasks...

I was shown reports of the others' "tasks" and the testing involved. 039 Was a drooling mute of a hulk that ate garbage 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 was the oldest. 055 was...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.

The megaclinic had been firebombed by "terrorists" (Life-rights activists), freeing most of the monstrosities contained within the vaults. In the ensuing gunfight, many of the subjects escaped. Most of them had been put down within the first day before they could cause any more problems. A select few managed to make it more than a week...

Kaite survived by being drawn into gang activities. It started with being a simple lookout, being distracting enough to sidetrack police responding to break-ins with the finding of another gene-freak. It quickly turned to laundering when his knowledge about cracking came to light during an idle computer game his crew invited him in on (being bad at games, he had instead started poking holes in the code to track player movements to give himself an advantage).
The money was laundered into local businesses, prospering small families at one moment and then causing inexplicable hardship the next. Then it became micro transactions through bank information stole through combat games. Cheap change at a pass, but after hundreds of takes a day...

In the confusion from the police raid from an anonymous tip, Kaite was abducted by Embrace. News reports read that the drugged-out gangers were either killed in the shootout or off'd themselves in jail. Only a few remained unaccounted for. By Kaite's record, about 4 remain at large. He has refused to give names.


* - The accelerated growth heightens mental capacity. Unfortunately, the discounted concoction Kaite was made from will eventually cause his mind to go rampant and think itself into insanity. Until then, the next .5 to 2 years are going to be quite the intellectual ride.

-For the sake of simplicity, I'll be referring to them simply as 'Kaite'
-Kaite speaks with a light German accent (Which I will inflict upon readers as I type it out). It was likely picked up from one of the scientists who had taught him to speak.


(Edits may occur)
((Its a tossup between antlers or bunny ears, although now I'm thinking more 'jackalope' as a whole "get as much as we can out of as few subjects as possible"))
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The Jaded

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