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Reginald "Hedgehog" Quill III High Concept: A Black-Hat Turned White Trouble: The Man Who Sold the (Under)world Bio: Reginald Quill was a minor noble from England whose ennui was only eclipsed by his genius. Being a bored genius led to delinquency - specifically, in Reginald's case, hacking. It was his raison d'etre, his greatest passion. And he became the best at it. Going by the name Hedgehog (because "he had enough spikes to shut down anyone", in his own words,) he became the go-to guy for security breaches in the underworld. Eventually, though, information gained through a hack of his resulted in a major terrorist attack and the deaths of thousands. The ensuing crisis of conscience drove Quill to change his ways - lending his services to governments, security agencies, and his own private crusade to avenge the deaths of the innocent people killed, selling out most of the criminal underworld he had worked with in the process. Eventually, he caught the attention of OCAM, who knew they couldn't pass up an asset of Quill's caliber. Likes: hacking, bourbon, fine dining, tailored suits, building electronic devices, grunge, breaking Queensbury rules at every available opportunity Dislikes: low-tech solutions, ignorant people, terrorists, country music, dogs, fighting fair Personality: I plan on playing Quill as being the helpful hacker with a lateral course of action for everything. The tech comes easily to him, and he certainly won't run from a fight, but when it comes to blowing things up and punching guys in the face, he'd be much more comfortable with having people that are actually trained for that sort of thing. +4: Electronics, Engineering +3: Infiltration, Communication +2: Provocation, CQC +1: Martial Arts, Driving Tempus Rimeblood fucked around with this message at 02:05 on Mar 26, 2015 |
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Mar 26, 2015 00:03
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 01:05 |
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Modifying my sheet accordingly.
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Mar 26, 2015 02:03
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Also, can we get a little clarification on the Engineering skill?
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Mar 26, 2015 02:08
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If further requests for the B-Team (or C-Team, or D-Team) occur, I'd just like to throw my hat in as saying I'm still down to play.
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Jun 10, 2015 17:42
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Sure, I'm down!
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Jun 12, 2015 03:12
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B-Team is not on hiatus, Tempus has just been at work constantly! e: and by that I mean I'll have something up tonight
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Jun 18, 2015 00:03
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Danger-Pumpkin posted:Hedgehog, as a relatively early acquisition to the O.C.A.M. roster, you've had a fair amount of experience both behind the scenes, and in the field. This means you've had a few near-misses with some of the biggest names on O.C.A.M.'s watchlist, not to mention the folks you burned when you turned face. So what was the most dangerous field mission you've been on so far? "Right. So the most dangerous mission I was ever on would have to be the second. Not the first - that was a bloody milk run. But the second was an...interesting case. So I got deployed into a mission, to infiltrate a base, sabotage their computer systems, the usual. As it would happen, they actually had intelligence records for numerous operatives from other intelligence agencies, including three embedded O.C.A.M. agents. So as I'm going in there, strike team behind me, we get isolated by a firefight breaking out. As the strike team is off filling these guys with lead, I move on to try and get to their central servers - I figure the best way to handle this one is going to be just applying a high-grade electromagnet to the side of the server rack, leave the whole thing a corrupted and garbled mess beyond recovery. And right around then, as I'm getting into what I THINK is the central server room - you wouldn't believe how few mercenary armies have issued schematics for their bases, by the by - I find something...beeping. So these wankers, I kid you not, have a dirty bomb. A big one. And it's armed - hooked into a massive terminal, I'm guessing so they could destroy the base and the city it's located underneath. So this happens, and the comms feed from the strike team just cuts out. No amount of my finagling can fix it, and that's when he comes in. The Butcher of Zagreb. Big guy, penchant for swinging knives. Used to use my services to get intel on his marks before a hit. Now, he's hardened by a stay in a Russian prison (that he escaped from, eventually.) And now, he's coming after me like a bat out of hell, this dirty bomb is about to explode, the central server still hasn't been compromised, and I'm suddenly wishing I had something a little bit bigger than a handgun. So I've got about 10 seconds to make some magic happen. I open up the text terminal on the computer attached to the dirty bomb, start typing as quickly as I can to inject some code to shut the bomb down, and remotely access the central server. As the Butcher's coming up on me, I just hoist up the keyboard and smash it into his face. Turns out, smashing the keyboard into his face sent a garbage input to the central server that it couldn't process, it overheated and started a fire, setting off the fire control systems, which caused an arc in the room's main breaker, which caused an explosion, which blew the Butcher to kingdom come and left me with some nasty burns across one arm and my abdomen, And THAT is the story of how I hacked an entire secret base and dismantled a mercenary army set on blowing up Prague, in thirty seconds." (Aspect gained: Fastest Keyboard in the West(ern Hemisphere)
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Jun 18, 2015 03:34
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Phase II post coming tomorrow.
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Jun 29, 2015 05:52
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"Hmph. The Silent Woman. Don't bloody remind me. Could live my whole life without hearing about her again. But I'm guessing you want to know that story. It's all in the bloody after-action reports, isn't it? Or let me guess - you want it in my own words, not just what I typed in the terminal. *sigh* FINE. I shouldn't have to explain this to you like some sort of child, but here we go. The Silent Woman is probably the most terrifying assassin in the world. And I say that having been deployed with some of OCAM's best. Not a pleasant lady to be around. The going rumor in the black-market intelligence community is that she used to be a real Bollywood starlet until something happened to her. They took her voice. They took her soul, if you believe the more superstitious and cowardly of the lot. And now she stalks the cities, killing whoever the client pays her to kill, burning their throats out with acid and watching them die. Spooky stuff. Anyhow, someone set her on me. I don't know who, I don't know bloody HOW, but they did. And from what I'm told, the price on my head was extremely high. Enough to buy the Crown Jewels three times over - must have been a few of the more well-kept lads pooling their cash, if anything. But I suppose I'm a prickly enough sort to merit that kind of response. And that's when things got rightly interesting. It all started in a cafe in London. Now, I'd thought I was drat nigh untouchable. Nothing passed through cyberspace without my knowledge of it. Corporate mergers, intelligence operations, criminal enterprises - I was quite the know-it-all. You'd be surprised how often all three of those options turn out to be the same thing, by the by. Economic sabotage is still alive and well - I should know, I was responsible for some of it. Four years ago, the allegedly-unhackable Crannix distribution that compromised the entirety of the Nigerian underground? My work. Not so hard when you just add a few extra packages to the distribution, automatically toggle into super-user on launch, and...oh. Right. The Silent Woman. Can you tell I hate talking about this? It's not exactly my finest hour. So I'm at this cafe in Monaco, just enjoying a spot of tea, like you do. Sure, mine is iced and unsweetened, but honestly, who drinks hot tea on a summer night? Really? Anyhow, this drink gets delivered to my table. Frilly drink. Smells vaguely of spiced rum and perfume. And before it even has time to settle, it's melting through the glass...and the table. I was up on my feet and running before I even had time to register what was going on. But I knew she was behind me. I knew. So I took into account all the training OCAM had given me, and I did what I thought was the smartest thing possible in my panic-induced haze. I ran straight for the rooftops, clambering up fire escapes and gutters, doing everything I could to get elevated, practically shouting into my emergency contact for OCAM to get me some extraction. And then I realized I didn't know anything. I smacked directly into her. She's tall, by the by. Very tall. And dead-silent, as the name implies. Jet black hair, smoldering eyes - beautiful, but deadly. Like a wild animal that's laying still for just a moment before it tears into its prey. And the scariest part was that she didn't say a word. Just threw me to the ground. Lucky me, I wasn't paralyzed with fright enough to crawl away. So I did the first thing I could think of - I jumped off the bloody roof. Broke my leg in three places doing it, but I'd bought myself some time. OCAM still hadn't sent an extraction team, so I did the next thing I could think of while I was laying in an alley trying not to pass out from pain - I dummied myself up a profile in the dark corners of the deep web, hijacked - er, appropriated - an OCAM slush fund, and put my money to work for me. Do you know what's better than being hunted? When you hire another hunter to protect you. I lucked out and got The Mariachi - musician by day, bodyguard and often assassin by night. We'd worked together before - I've reason to believe he's worked with OCAM before, for that matter, as a freelance security consultant. He's one of the only people who I didn't burn to the authorities - the man's got a strong moral code, but he's very old-fashioned. So old-fashioned that he doesn't even carry a smartphone - he always has a handler to give him his jobs. So I'm crawling through this alley, burying myself in trash - bleeding TRASH, can you believe that? - and hoping she doesn't find me before the Mariachi does, and there she is. Silent. Deadly. And she's holding a container of something. I know what. God, do I know what. I'll never forget the smell of it - I smell it in my nightmares. Wake up and vomit. Ugh. And right as she kneels down over me to pour it down my gullet, I hear the sound I'm forever going to associate with salvation - the jangly spurs the Mariachi always wears. Anyhow, I'll spare you the details of what happened next. But suffice it to say, I ended up with no acid burns, and the Silent Woman was kept at bay. For a while. As the Mariachi was taking me to the RV point that OCAM, in their infinite wisdom, FINALLY decided to share with me, he looks at me, and he says, 'Mr. Hedgehog. It is good that we meet in person like this, now that you have found your heart. Had you been who you were when I first took jobs from you, I would have taken your bounty for myself.' And when I got back to OCAM, they, er...dealt with the situation. It's the only time I've seen them launch five strike teams for a single agent. Normally they reserve that for end-of-the-world scenarios, captured OCAM higher-ups, or a broken coffee machine. But no one has seen hide nor hair of the Silent Woman since. And the price on my head seems to have mysteriously dropped to a reasonable level, I'm guessing through some sort of intervention on the part of agents far more personal and direct than I. Suffice it to say, the underworld is a terrible and amazing place. Especially when everyone knows your name." (Aspect gained: One Foot In The Dark Side) Tempus Rimeblood fucked around with this message at 06:10 on Jun 30, 2015 |
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Jun 30, 2015 05:27
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