Mariana Collie

Ban the Person above you

Banned and deported for questioning the Fuhrer of Grammer

Telecommunications

A heated, soft feeling against her face, a little heavy too. Dorothy Wiesse giggled happily. She forgot she'd come home with a partner. Having spent the evening at a bar getting as toasted as humanly possible to relieve her fears of the next day, she could have very well brought a nice girl home. Was she that messed up last night? To forget something that important?

The universe answered with a resounding 'no' as she opened her eyes to reveal a furry orange ass.

"Dammit, Merlin, you're going to suffocate me one of these times," she said, pushing him off into the sheets. He mewled indignantly and scampered away for the kitchen. Immediately began crying like a starving kitten. "Just hold on."

Rolling out of bed, she checked the projected display on her nightstand. Fuck me, 45 minutes past wake up time. A few unread messages of increasing ugency:
- You're requested at central for a meeting today.
- Report to central.
- REPORT TO CENTRAL. NOW.

Shaking out the remaining tension in her body, she decided to forget the shower and just sprayed on deodorant as well as some vanilla perfume in her raven hair before sliding into work uniform. A vibrating tenseness was still in her bones, probably from the augment that ran down the length of her spine. She hurried through the rest: throw a frozen breakfast burrito into the insta-oven, feed the cat, take the burrito out, stuff it in her face and grab her keycards. She was halfway out the door before she hit herself across the leg. "And I forgot everything I was going to bring!"

A hangover knocked loudly on the inside of her forehead. Back into the apartment it was. Dorothy slid her scoped laser handgun into its holster, dropped a prepaid phone into her shirt pocket. In another pocket went her address book and disposable thumb drives. In another, silver pens hiding her favorite treat. She stared at the pens a little too long, tempted, but did not partake. Grabbing her small suitcase of work documents, she left for real this time, nabbing a taxi ride to the precinct.

This is going to work out, she thought, It's going to be a great adventure. So much to see and do. A lot of fun. A real blast! One for history. I just know it. I know it. Yes. Yep. That's right. Her mind went on a rampage of mindless worry, pounding down her consciousness. Leaning onto the Taxi window, she closed her eyes...They have to train me a little more. Well this is okay I guess. I'll be okay. Maybe. Yeah. Sure I will...

BEEEEP. The honking taxi shook with brakes and Dorothy flew forward, smashing her nose into the front seat. "Owww." It was going to be red.

"We're here, you shitty tipping space case." The bulky man in the front looked back at her, a searing expression on his stubbly dark face. Jonathan Mertz was the nametag. Oh. The guy she didn't tip last time. Terrible luck.

She felt her face strain with both pain and embarrassment as she dug in her shirt pocket for her card. There were tremors in her wrist as she handed it to him. Wasn't it a little suspicious she got the same morning taxi twice? When he gave it back she rolled out of there and up the precinct stairwell with what is best described as the awkwardness of an untrained ballerina. The agility augment was great for sliding around on tip toes...herself not so much.

Once inside, Dorothy was greeted with more than a few disapproving glances as she went to the conference room. She grabbed coffee and sweet cream from the break room on the way but avoided her desk. It was likely best to make up for not being early by at least being on time in the specific location needed. Glancing in a hallway picture glass, she noticed a small bruise on her nose from the taxi. Whatever.

"Good morning," she said without looking anyone there in the eye. She plopped down onto the squeaky rolling chair closest to the far wall- a nice corner where she could see clearly in all directions -- before waiting patiently for an announcement. Or as patiently as someone constantly glancing around, pushing her chair back and forth, creepily staring at everyone else and fidgeting with her communicator in her lap could be considered.

The Unnatural Campus (Full)

Sorry I disappeared before getting to any interaction, got busy irl. But it seems like the plot moved so that's all good. Should be posting later tonight.

Telecommunications

Disappeared into personal reality for a day or two, sorry! Working on a post that should be up later tonight.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

341

sonofa

Ban the Person above you

Banned for an av that makes me want to have a conversation with an obvious apex predator

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

340

god dammit

Telecommunications

Wiesse, Dorothy

Dorothy Wiesse

"You aren't on my clock, I'm on your clock. So maybe you should make the most of it."

Physical Description
Dorothy stands at an average 5'6" with a muscled body from intense training...though those muscles are hidden under a slight chubby layer thanks to her fatty diet. At first glance she has more of a mother's frame than an athlete's yet she gets by. She has pale skin, dark hair, huge doe eyes and a naturally unpleasant expression. On her back is a tattoo of a unicorn under a moon.

Psyche
She has a paranoid, depressive and distrusting personality, some parts of which are rational and some that are not. Very jumpy, she purposefully positions herself in places that serve as decent vantage points. Hoping nobody will sneak up behind. When in an area she considers safe, she can enter such an intense trance-state of focus or daydreaming that it's hard to knock her out of it. When on the job, her paranoia is more of a hazard than anything, so she relies on sheer adrenaline highs to get through tough nights. The adrenaline she pumps herself up with (whether through willpower or straight up drugs) can send her to a zen-like euphoria...The crashes afterwords are often another story.

Motivation
With a wild imagination, Dorothy has always gone in search of adventure that "unlocks secrets." She has read up on many conspiracy theories but doesn't believe in trusting any without seeing with her own eyes. Seeing with her own eyes may grant some "wisdom"...almost as if her career itself is just a game to entertain her. Also working official business is more legal than the work she did for who knows how many of her previous clients. Can't go on her edgy adventures if she's dead or behind bars.

Relations
For NPCs and PCs, if you don't know anyone then don't bother filling this out - yet.

Personal History
Born in a trailer park, raised in a mental institution, and graduated from a tech college to go on to see if her britches were big enough for freelance detective work.

Dorothy's childhood is a mess of abuse and fractured relationships nobody, especially her, wants to talk about. She spent her young years trying to kill herself or coming close to killing herself in dangerous stunts just for the rush of being on the edge. But the psychiatry industry set her straight-- for a while --with meds and vocational training.

Motivated to be a better person, she finished a degree in law enforcement only to fizzle what chances she was given in DPD on a street-born adrenaline drug designed to go above and beyond medical applications. To support her habit she worked minimum wage before an idea struck, inspiring her to go clean: She spends a lot of time keeping in shape and with her relative skills in personal/cyber anonymity-- she could promote herself as a freelance detective! The field was extremely competitive, cannibalistic, these days, but she could do it if she tried. Right?

At first it didn't go so well. She could do a job but no better result than anyone else. After a few months she couldn't take the rejection and went back to her adrenaline junkie self. Worse, she splurged on a questionable cybernetic augment improving agility. On a good night, you could say she was more of a nimble spy than detective. Using her agility, she prefers to hide and overhear the information she needs than confront anyone directly. After she got what she needed, she leapt and bound away on the tips of her toes, before reporting her findings to clients. Maybe the only reason she was considered a detective is because the word spy has a very different and illegal connotation. Not that she background checked any client for such illegal leanings, in her opinion any adventure is bound to grant wisdom.

She worked as a "detective" for a range of clients for two years now. In this period she's experienced everything from attempts on her life to gang recruiting techniques and it's made her paranoid. A little twitchy. Going on a stealthy adventure for any client is great...but only if they don't kill you when you report back! Her ability to slip away can only go so far so many times. Now the opportunity to work for a clearly official delegation is a welcome break from all the shady deals.

Getting in wasn't easy- she had to let DPD know about both her failed history as an officer and her unofficial detective work. It was her potential alone saving her from the slush pile of applications. But this time it's clear who will pay her check. Besides, working for the Mayor's cause may take a few legality targets off her back for the time being.

Equipment
- Standard issue DPD, protective vest
- Scoped laser type handgun
- Black clothes, hooded jacket
- Pockets on holster containing an address book (codes), disposable drives, and adrenaline drug injections disguised as pens
- Disposable communicator
- Cybernetic Augment : Agility based, allowing for high speed running and jumping higher/longer distances

Anything else?
Her apartment contains nothing but a fat orange tomcat, junk food, bed and computer...all incriminating dealings with clients are contained on the disposable drives. When she used to take clients as a detective, she advertised herself on anonymous online servers and by hanging out in a coffee shop to see if anyone approached. Out of fear for being followed, she picks the coffee shop furthest from her actual apartment and always takes roundabout ways to get home.

The Unnatural Campus (Full)

"Bubbles, you're going to get eaten alive." @Allie A woman's voice called out and Bara slowly turned her head back to the group, despite the embarassment on her face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you guys can handle it, I'm sure this is just an-" she started.

To be cut off with: "Come here, I've got something to tell you."

"Umm." Bara looked at the woman with a bit of incredulity, hinting at her restraints preventing getting up close and personal. Sure she could unbuckle but it'd be better to stay put. The woman was pretty, golden brown hair and patient eyes with on ounce of charm, yet unless she had the same situation as Bara...she was HERE so clearly she had taken a few levels in kicking butt. Enough to wipe the floor with me and then dunk me in ice water, she imagined with a shudder.

Still she wanted to hear what the woman had to say, so she leaned forward enough that the woman could speak to her ear if she pleased. But just as she braced for a humiliating sort of of secret:

"Hey! Watch out for her. She's the type that'll kick your ass n rob you. I know the type when I see one." @MikkishtheLeprechaun Across the aisle, a man with sun-kissed skin and a lean frame bent over with an amused smirk directed her way. In any other circumstance he reminded her of a ranch hand but the tattoo on his shoulder and bemused expression betrayed a different, more intense origin.

"Well, I-"

Another voice. Biting her lip, Bara felt at once a bit overwhelmed yet happy that the helicopter was filled with more conversation than awkward silence.

"We’re in a helicopter. What’s she going to do? Jump out of it after she robbed you? Swim hundreds of miles to the shore? Not even accounting for the changing of the tides and the current that keeps pushing you further away from shore." @Camey

Long blonde hair and icy eyes. Another attractive woman who can kick my ass, she noticed as a different kind of blush filled her face, her toes tingling. The woman looked at her dog. Another point of embarassment, but there was nothing to do about the dog now. From the tone in their voices, these people may be negging each other a little bit. She was used to that from her parents venom filled conversations, though at least this seemed tons more civil where she was sitting. Breaking it up if might help.

"Hey," she turned to look at all of them. "My name's Nbarra, but you can call me Bara cause not many people like to try the Navajo accent. Not even my dad. It's nice to meet you and I hope we can work together to make Maniacles proud to fill our pockets." Okay, maybe getting too official. Shut up, she groaned internally, hands twitching externally. Then she turned back to the brown-haired woman. "I think I'll be safe from her here too, if she's that bad. It's okay. I want to know what she has to say."

To avoid sending more high pitched chirps into their ear canals, Nbarra stopped before explaining why, the why being that it is better to be honest and straightforward with even potential enemies than to be in the dark about them. She leaned her ear over towards Marlyn again.

Give the avatar above you a Porn Name!

The Eye of Hardon