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March 2007

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lone_gunmen in aegis_ooc

*Your name:
Your email:
Character's name:
RP Experience:

***A sample of how you would like to play your character:

****Time constraints:

*doesn't have to be your real one; just something we can call you in familiar chats or whatnot
**NO yahoo or myspace or skype or whatever -- just a simple SN where anyone can reach you if they need to
***though I'm not requiring a novel, the more you write, the better!
****anything standing between you and RP (piano lessons every week, high school, college, grad school, etc)

My name is Guile, my most commonly checked e-mail address is whispered_punchline@hotmail.com. I'll either be on Messenger or AIM; AIM name is kaorubatsubo. I am applying for the role of Brad Crawford. My RP experience is somewhat extensive; I started playing D@D over ten years ago, and since then have played every pen and paper RPG released either mainstream America, released at my local gamestore, or created by my friends. I have played on half a dozen different forum based RPG's for periods of time between one and two years, and probably a dozen more that I played for less than a year. I have run my fair share of them as well. I've also Live RPed on and off over that period of time. My time constraints are a 35-40 hour work week with variable hours, though I'm usually home by eight or nine. I also have school work, but I usually do that in the morning. I will have the occassional planned WoW raid, but I know about those a few days in advance. So, most evenings I'm free if given a little notice.

Crawford padded through the darkened building swiftly. He hurried, but he did not rush; it was a fine distinction that tended to put him above others in his line of work. He had been scouting this building for weeks, knew every corridor of it like the lines in the palm of his hand. He came during the day with a variety of false pretenses; once as a delivery boy, once as a building code inspector, and numerous times as a nameless face in a suit in a world of nameless faces in suits. Granted, he had to downgrade his suit to fit into this building; his usual Armani would have stuck out amongst all the off brands in this low-level facility. But sometimes, the best place to hide something is in a place unsuited to guard it, the proverbial last place you'd look. Eszet made the mistake that many do, of coding and prioritizing their information, and giving it different levels of protection based on that prioritization. Crawford knew; all information was important. Get enough crumbs, and you can make a cake. Crawford had spent the last five years gathering crumbs, and a few whole cakes too. If there was something going on in Eszet, he would be the guy to know about it. He'd been on top of everything they'd done since the collapse five years ago, using his foresight and his skill to know where to go and what to gather. If he had to stay on the move, he might as well be productive while doing it.

And so here he was, being productive. He had learned where all the cameras where from his journeys into the building, and he avoided them, ducking and pausing, bobbing and weaving. He had made sure to meet all the security guards beforehand, so he knew which ones would be on shift this evening, where they would be and when they would be there. Studying the blueprints of the building showed him the most expeditious way to get to where he needed to be; the basement. It was almost stereotypical. This job barely needed someone of his caliber, but there was no one else he trusted to do this since Schwartz broke up. Which, coincidentally, was why he was here. This particular crumb could lead to something juicy indeed. He strolled up to the basement door, and slowly clicked the lock open with his platinum card. It was just a quick step down the stairs to a group of filing cabinets sitting on their own next to discarded office supplies. His last job had taken him into a military instillation; he smirked at the ease of this one. He effortlessly picked the lock of the cabinet and took all the files, neatly placing them in the messenger bag velcroed to the side of his hip. He only needed one of them, but he couldn't let anyone know which one, now could he? He crept back up the stairs and retraced his path out of the building, a whisper in the wind as far as their security was concerned. He let a single business card fall from his hand before he exited for the last time. Bugman Ent., the largest rival of this particuliar corporate holding. It was obvious, but they'd jump at it all the same. After all, Occums razor would take effect when it was found, and that was his greatest ally at the moment.

As soon as he was in the shadow of the building, he quickly took off the tight black shirt he was wearing and ripped off his tear-away black pants, quickly shoving them in other side of the bag. He was now clad in kackey pants and a white button-up shirt. He untucked his tie from the shirt and strode purposefully to the car he parked three blocks from here, knowing that no one was anywhere near it. On his way back, he flipped open the cell phone in his pocket and placed a call to the police. When the dispatcher answered, he lowered his voice and said, with a heavy Russian accent, full of worry, "Yes, I would report break-in at Xyphon, Inc. I saw man in black open door and leave with bag full. He no work there; I night janitor, had step out for eat to bite, see stranger break in when back come. He had gun, and I scared. I Yergi, you send help, yes? I see him come back; please, help," and at this point, he threw Yergi's cell phone down hard on the concrete, shattering it, right outside of Bugman Ent. The fact that Yergi was floating somewhere in the river right now would only make this diversion all the more interesting, though he already knew what was going to happen and so only got the joy that came of a job well done.

Back in his hotel room, he flung the bag against the plush chair and began to silently undress. He assumed Nagi had fallen asleep at this hour, and checked to make sure that his young ward was alright. He knew before he even checked that he was, but certain visual confirmations still carried weight with him, if he truly cared about them. He changed in the living room, having brought his comfortable clothes in before leaving for his mission. He had bulked up a little over the last five years, his body the proper size for someone who practiced American boxing. He was no heavyweight, but definitely not a welterweight either; he was a perfectly balanced middleweight, and the way that his shirts stretched across his chest clearly highlighted that fact. Brazillian jujitsu had only served to toughen his already strong body, tightening the muscles, strengthening the skin. He took the bag from the chair and neatly hung up the clothes he had hastily stuffed in, quickly enough to prevent wrinkling. After that, he sat in the chair, the bag in his lap, as he pulled out the files. So many of them useless, just like the people who produced them, interacted with them, surrounded them. He neatly plucked the one that interested him from the stack while slowly stroking his goatee. He just needed to read this file to learn where their next destination would be; he'd have to get up early to place the order for a pair of plane tickets to the location highlighted, under yet another pair of aliases, of course, a destination which caused an eyebrow to raise involuntarily. Japan...Nagi would be pleased, at least, though this would be cause for a whole new level of preparations to get there, a completely different set of variables that could affect their journey there. Variables which he partly yearned to forget and desired to revisit.

He lay in his bed, thinking of the past while visions of the future fluttered before his eyes. It was always hard to get to sleep, but that was a problem all of them shared. He took the brown contacts from his blue eyes, placing them by the glass of water and H&K he kept on the nightstand, and settled in for the night, staring at the ceiling, a different ceiling every week, it seemed. He looked forward to the day, when Eszet was gone and the world was washed clean, that he would only have one ceiling to look at for a very, very long time.


My favorite part of this post? When Crawford rips off his clothes.

I was -thisclose- to thinking, "Holy Christ, is this SERIOUS??" and then I realized what had happened and kicked myself. Sorry, I'm a perv. =^_^= Perv playing Ken...how ironic.

Anyway, congrats!! I loved this. Just altogether loved it. So you've definitely got Crawford, and just...have fun with him! I'm sure you will. ~.^ Also, way to go working Crawford's past five years into this. Pretty dang awesome, yo. <3