Name: Richard Barker
Aliases: Dick, Detective Dick, Rickie
Age: 36
Birthday: April - 4th, 1888
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birth Place: New York, NY State, United States of America
Residence:How Long In Cairo: Three weeks perhaps? I rarely count the days anymore, except for the nights I get a good night's sleep.
Gender: Male
Major/Minor: N/A
Occupation: Private detective - Formely police detective for NYPD
Languages: New York Yankee-English*, heavily accented Egyptian Arabic*
Height: 5ft 7 inches
Weight: 187 Lbs
Build: Average, but little toned
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Skin Tone: Fair
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Deep scar going down his nose.
Personal Style: Richard can be seen in his usual attire, consisting of a light-coloured or beige two-piece suit still decent in appearance, but might get old soon. The suit is accompanied with a clean, white shirt underneath and a patterned tie fitting the suit, as well as a wide fedora. It sits firmly on top of his combed-back hair, perhaps in need of a cut soon, but not yet. Though he doesn't need regular glasses, he does don a pair of black sunglasses now and then, more often with the sun out and less at night, but not unlikely. And on his feet Richard sports a pair of black, polished shoes that looks more comfortable than fashionable. That's how Richard prefers it. It's a style he can afford to have, as long as he can have his clothes repaired once in a while.
Determined * Sceptical * Selfless * Blunt * Quick-minded * Humourless
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Divorced
Personality: Richard comes across as a man with one thought in his mind most of the time; solving that last case, whatever the cost may be. He is determined to get the job done effectivly and correctly, in order to get that rent payed and food bought. And in doing so, he can appear as a man lacking emotions. He knows that most people lie to save their own skin, that many do so to both him and their closest ones, and that he probably will uncover whatever dirt they have on them. That's his job after all, figuring out who murdered that lonely man, where that cheating husband ran off to and with who, and where all those public funds got lost. People commit crimes, they lie, and he knows he probably can and will too.
That being said, Richard does have people he trusts and loves; people he would do a whole lot to keep safe and happy. It's just that because of some of these people that he's sceptical of others. People he loved and cared for lied to him, and that's what hurts the most. The remaining few are far in-between, though some have entered his soft spot after That happened. Just don't go expecting him to like you at first glance, even for your sweet smile and swinging walk.
Habits: - Staring off into the air, deep in thought. Occationally evolves into monolouges about various subjects.
- Preparing a cigarette and fiddling with the lighter, even if he isn't going to smoke.
- Holding his hand over his mouth and nose to cover the scar.
Hobbies: - Sitting in various joints, smoking while going over old cases again and again in his mind.
- Long nights driving in his car.
Fears: - Never seeing his daughter again
- Ravens. Damn crows, alway bringers of bad news.
- Barbers
Likes: - Smoking
- Solving a case
- Slow-dancing
- Not having to borrow money, again
- Souvlaki
- Sleeping in a proper bed
Dislikes:- His ex-wife
- His nose
- People commenting his nose
- Breakfast
- Liars
- Clues not adding up
General World Skills: - Deduction
- Drive automobile
- Intimidation
- Observation (Crime scene)
- Stealth
- Research
- People-reading
- Slow dancing
- Lock-picking
Combat Skills: - Athletics
- Unarmed combat - Brawling
- Club
- Pistol
- Shotgun
What Is On Your Person:- Clothing - Light grey jacket, white shirt and red-striped tie, dark beige pants, light brown wide-brimmed fedora, black polished shoes, black sunglasses, wrist watch and nose-badage.
- Wallet - Private Eye-license, passport, some money (British pounds), photograph of his daughter Elise, contact-information for American consulate, key to his room
- Lock-picking set
- Notepad and pencil
- Magnifying glass
- Blackjack club
- Cigarette case - 16 smokes left
- Lighter
Residence:- Case files
- Books about Egyptian society
- Hand-cuffs
- Colt Police Positive Revolver
- Box of .38 ammunition
- Clothing
- Binoculars
- Flashlight
- Toiletries. Always important to have.
- Official documents from NYPD, confirming his authority on the case
- This spot is for an animal only - Cat, Goat, Horse, Camel (Basic animal, nothing special about it. It may not even obey every command.)
What Brings You To Cairo: To be honest, I'm not even sure myself. Could be a plethora of reason frankly. I guess my current case is as good a reason as any; George Jay Gould I, sound familiar? Big business guy, and I'm not talking the vendors standing on the corner selling overly-priced papers. Owned a heck lot of railroads, even caught onto the whole "Pharao-craze". Too bad he caught a fever and died right after visiting the tomb of Tutankhamen, but hey, at least it gave me a case. The Gould-family wanted to know that there were no funny business around his death, no murder or spiteful enemies wishing him dead. That was fine enough. The odd thing was who they also brought on the case; Faye Masterson, Parapsychologist. So now I'm in Cairo with a young lady trying to figure out the death of a very rich man. Should be simple, but it never is.
Maybe running away from my troubles back home counts as a reason?
Life Before You Moved To Cairo: Richard was born the first of four children to the Barker-couple, born and raised in one of New York's shadier neighbourhoods. While things could get rough now and again, the four Barker-children had a fairly good childhood, even when their parents didn't have time for them. For Richard's father, Richard Barker senior, was a cop in the New York Police Department. Which was what Richard junior too wanted to become. So when he wasn't attending school or watching over his siblings, Richard could most often be seen following cops on duty to learn as much as he could. He even sometimes watched them from afar, witnessing how many conducted their work with ruthless efficiency and batons. But they only attacked the bad guys, right?
Richard never got a degree, but managed in 1906 to become a cop just after turning 18 partly thanks to his father already being in the same station. But a few short years later Richard junior was the only Barker left on the force. His father was suspected of taking bribes from a certain Italian establishment and swiftly kicked off-duty for an indefinite amount of time. At first Richard outright refused to believe that his father, the hero in shining armour and blue uniform he had looked up to for so many years could do such a thing, but with age came the creeping realization that no-one was uncorruptable. Every man had his price, even Richard himself.
His idealistic view on his duties as a cop brought him close to the neighbourhood he regularly patrolled. It was commonly known as "Little Egypt" for obvious reasons, as the main demographic of its inhabitants came from the Middle East and many spoke Arabic several generations after emigrating to America. Richard came to know those streets and its regulars more and more as the years on patrol went, and even learned an decent amount of Arabic himself. Of course he never got the accent right, but the others thought of it as characteristic of him, perhaps a bit cute? And he enjoyed it all; his work, his friends, his wife Beatrice and his soon-to-be-born child. Even if his father was a tainted mark on him, life was good.
It wasn't until after the Raid in 1914 that it all started falling apart.
It was meant to be routine task for the now promoted Richard and the rest of the team; they had solid information of a opium trade taking place, who would attend, and when and where it would take place. It would all be simple, put up an ambush and catch the criminals in the act, before going home just in time for dinner. It was anything but simple. They hadn't anticepated the pepretrators to put up resistance like they did, revolvers and knives all thrown into the mix of dark alleyways and too many cooks in one kitchen, so to speak. One of the Portugese guys grabbed Richard from behind, while another came at him with a razor and cutting his nose nearly clean off. Hadn't it been for the backup, Richard knew he'd probably be dead. And he also knew that this operation was doomed from the start. Someone from inside the Department warned them. It angered him, hardened him, even made him a little colder.
Either it was him turning colder that pushed his wife away, or it was his wife's departure that cooled the already shaken police officer, because a year later Beatrice wanted nothing more from Richard. Nothing more except his money and their daughter Elise. He could let go of the money, but Elise he couldn't part with. Not in a million years, not when he needed her the most to stay above water mentally. So when Elise disappeared without a trace another year after his and Beatrice's separation, he had no doubts as to who did it. At least he thought he did, until Beatrice out of all people came crying to him demanding to know where their little Elise was. Richard didn't know, she didn't know, and nobody else did either.
Richard couldn't take the pressure, and quit the force. When the police themselves stopped looking for her, he started on his own, even without many leads. Like she was torn out of this very reality and stored away in another. Richard was a broken man, left with little in that world to live for. Perhaps except for the slim hope of Elise returning home safe. Perhaps that's why he became a private detective, to earn enough money to still be alive if...when Elise comes home, or he himself found wherever those devils had taken her.
There doesn't pass a day without Richard looking up at the door in his office, waiting for Elise to walk in and tell him she's home, like nothing's wrong. Like everything is all right. Like things were almost ten years ago before all of this; The scar on his nose, his tired-looking eyes, the wedding ring lying in his mostly empty safe, the ten-fold read letter from the Gould-estate lying on his desk.
Life Since You Moved To Cairo: Cairo was a lot like the "Little Egypt" Richard had known and cared for back home in New York, but yet still so very much foreign. The smells and sounds were similar, but only that. They echoed back to memories of better times, but reminded him of the present which was so different. Different and difficult. After doing the usual researching and private-detectivig back home, Richard and Faye were on their merry way to the land of the Pharaos. But all the researching and long talks on the ship could prepare the New York detective for the stiffling heat of the desert, which really didn't help his nose either. But hopefully Faye and he will get a break in the case soon. Hopefully.
Character Quote: - "Sure doll, like I'm supposed to believe that?"
- "Don't make me angry. You won't like me angry."
- "...and that's how the dog barks." - Said when finding or figuring out a clue
- "Everybody's got secrets, even if they don't know it themselves."
- "If it seems ordinary, you can bet your five cents that something's off. Seen it too many times to ignore it by now."
Theme Song: Anything Else: - Sheshat
- Mugs and cups, take your pick
- Richard sometimes has to cover his nose with cloth or bandages, especially in the burning heat of Egypt. He's not sure if he prefers his nose covered or not though.
*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.
Member
FourtyTwo
rocketrobie2
