ilpromenade application

[1ntagli0]

PLAYER

✧ NAME: Vee
✧ LJ USERNAME: blizzardseason
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): PM
✧ CURRENT MUSE LIST: solarpurpura, sideromelane, maidofbones

CHARACTER

✧ NAME: Carl Morir aka Zinc
✧ SERIES: Original Character :: The Reanimates
In an age when reanimation is a disease easily inoculated against, there are the zombie joytoys. A route taken by illegal sex traffickers to loophole their way out of human rights violations as well as prostitution and necrophilia laws, though the issues of kidnapping remained and there were new calls to prosecute on murder charges. The trade, however, remains undisturbed. The zombies are easy to clean and to ship overseas and they don't get pregnant. The process is quite simple: like everyone ever kidnapped and forced into the sex trade, the toys are taken from their former lives, infected, beaten, raped, and starved until they get the idea. Only their pimp offers them solace and food, and even simple-minded zombies can develop Stockholm Syndrome.

Initial moral outrage saw many governments rising up to take the trafficking rings down, but the various joytoy gangs armored themselves in kind, not only with semi-automatic weapons but also with various agents of biological warfare, including high dose strains of the reanimation virus. Forced to take further civilian casualty into account, the War Against Reanimation became a detente, politicians forced to turn a blind eye to much of the activity. One tactic that has done well is to take warrants for contraband and catch shipments of joytoys at the docks, arresting gang members and putting the reanimated down for good.

No longer citizens at all and often transported from slums and developing nations, the joytoys who do continue in the trade live like a second class. Found in every major city around the world, the joytoy institution is firmly rooted into society. The toys have been trained for one thing and one thing only. Much like fighting dogs, there isn't much hope for them beyond a final rest.

✧ HISTORY: Carl Morir is the youngest son of a rich yuppie family. The baby of the family and spoiled rotten, this was really just a recipe for disaster. The problem with little Carl is the fact that, as you will read in great detail in his personality, he's a dreadful little sociopath. Cruel to his brothers, the maids and nannies, his peers, and his pets, Carl was a pain in the ass as a kid. However, his parents took this to mean he was just a bit rebellious and that he would learn better.

He did, in some ways.

What Carl learned was that if he was just a bit quieter about his mischief and mayhem, it was a lot easier to get away with without interruption. By twelve, he grew tired of the mundane sort of trouble he could get up to in his school and his community. He felt he was more intelligent than the adults around him, and that they offered no real challenge to manipulate. So he began looking into the affairs of outside groups. At a very boring socialite party, he heard another woman talking to his mother about her troubled son and how difficult he was to manage.

Isaac Crew was a bit older than Carl himself and had been arrested several times now. Isaac didn't learn as quickly as Carl did, it seemed, and chose to flaunt about his egotistical disregard for authority and his wealth in the most obnoxious ways possible. His father kept him out of juvie, but it seemed he was quite the embarrassment to the family. When asked by his concerned and insufferably nosy mother, Carl agreed to have 'play dates' with Isaac and keep him out of trouble.

It was through Isaac that Carl began to experience a 'party scene' for the first time. He quickly discovered that he did not like drugs or alcohol, and learned much too early how much he enjoyed sex. Through mimicking those around him, Carl had no trouble fitting in.

His first piece of true forgery was a fake ID, something he easily could have just bought, but the project interested him. He went through several versions, but his need for perfection drove him to look into more and more sophisticated methods. Indulged in everything, his parents saw no problem with the strange equipment he purchased, especially not when he made a series of very nice business cards for his father as a cover for his other interests. It was good practice, besides.

Carl continued to use Isaac Crew as a cover as well. Mrs. Crew was pleased her son hadn't been arrested again since Carl 'befriended' him. Isaac himself was under the impression that the younger boy was a good friend of his, which was very unfortunate and very untrue. They were not friends in Carl's eyes, Isaac was merely useful. Especially because, as Isaac got older, he involved himself with higher and higher circles of street and white collar crime. Carl encouraged this, of course, because while he enjoyed Isaac's partying lifestyle, he needed something more entertaining to do and fake IDs and check forgery were much too easy. He still needed the older Isaac to vouch for him, besides. Still in his early teens, Carl did not yet have the physical imposition to roll with the big dogs on his own, something which irritated him to no end.

Carl was sixteen when Isaac met Cotnari (aka Jansen Fields), a drug and art dealer/smuggler, as well as a silly pretentious artist himself. Isaac was obviously more interested in the cocaine, but Carl... liked the paintings. Cotnari was the first artist he ever adored, his first experience into homosexuality which would blossom into a full-blooded willingness to fuck anything, and was also the first person to give Carl some direction for those clever hands of his. Carl began to forge paintings at Cotnari's direction.

Since he no longer needed Isaac, Carl was quick to get rid of him, turning him over to the police. Considering Isaac had escape jailtime for his more pedestrian crimes, such as embezzlement and drug trafficking previously, Carl was sure to add in something a bit more sticking this time. Child-molestation was really a very difficult charge for daddy to buy him out of. Even if those particular charges were prooved false, the damage would be done. No longer a minor and offered no plea bargain, Isaac went away to jail.

Carl and Cotnari parted ways much more amiably when Carl turned eighteen and was to be sent away for college. The Morirs were paying for one of those lovely Ivy League schools, and Carl shipped off dutifully. However, upon arriving on the campus all he did was go to party and fuck drunken freshman. Nothing about university interested him. He wanted to go back to Cotnari and resume his work, but decided he'd try something new on his own first.

He tried several different projects that failed to really amuse him, although he would not call his time spent learning about the university's servers wasted. He was looking for something a bit more lasting, and after incidentally encountering some information about the treasury department, he began to reverse engineer currency via intaglio. If he were not such a savant in forgery, this would have been a maddening and impossible task. He would have given up, but instead the challenge completely consumed him.

After he sold his first printing plate, he left school and disappeared without a trace. Zinc appeared in his place, in a coastal town with three distinct gangs, each with a stake in weapons, drugs, and joytoys. Whites, Chinese, and Mexicans. Zinc happily began to learn the town, able to make his own introductions now that he wasn't a half-pint. He began his network and dealt equally with each of the gangs.

Things went exactly the way he wanted them to for about four years, he settled in comfortably, doing as much work as amused him, always researching better and better methods, always improving his already considerable innate skills. He also partied and fucked a lot, but maybe that went without saying.

He was twenty-three when Durban Poison took over the main gang in the city. The circumstances surrounding her ascension were bloody. She was the previous ganglord's woman, but after he'd caught the Reanimation virus and been put down, Durban took it upon herself to kill his successors in broad daylight. Durban's incredibly violent ways changed things in the city. Her racism making even more severe delineations in the city.

All Zinc really cared about was the fact that she refused to deal with him. She told him his work might be good enough for spics and dogs, but she wanted nothing to do with him. He sneered and called her a trailer trash whore with delusions of grandeur. Durban Poison is a small woman. Zinc is not the first nor the last to mouth off to her thinking they could take her in a fight and she is always more than happy to prove them wrong. Durban broke his jaw, but didn't kill him, which was more than a lot of people could say.

Durban changed a lot of things in the city. In order to keep business flowing the way Zinc was used to, he was forced to set up a third party to make deals with the gangs in his stead. In making these arrangements, he came across Barbet. A recent acquisition of Durban's, he became the caretaker to her joytoys. It was unheard of to waste resources maintaining joytoys, especially considering the high likelihood of the CDC putting down valuable merchandise at any time. However, Durban's reign of violence quickly had the CDC cowering in fear of large scale attacks against civilians. The gang had already been powerful in the city, but Durban made that shit iron clad.

Upon meeting Barbet, Zinc adored everything about him, instantly. He was brusque and aloof and he said the most ridiculous, pretentious things. He was also straight from France, which gave Zinc a new project in picking up a new language.

Things have been comfortable for Zinc since then, though not for the city in general. Tensions between the gangs are high. Durban is a reckless bitch, but unfortunately necessary. If she's taken out of the picture, the city will implode as every thug with a pair of fists tries to take a slice of her empire for themselves. Durban seems to have a death wish though, and this makes everyone uneasy. Zinc could really care less, he hopes the bitch rots in hell.

✧ TIMELINE: Current, 24 years old.
✧ PERSONALITY:
"The human body is a masterpiece, every one unique and perfect in all its supposed flaws. Zinc is perhaps lacking more of those than Barbet really likes, they must have all clustered together to form his personality, but he is at least interesting to look at."

You Ain't Clever. Simply put, Zinc is too clever for his own fucking good. He was spoiled by his distant parents as a child and very very quickly learned that he could do anything he wanted to, as long as he didn't get caught. And in the event he did get caught, money would solve all of his problems. Being a bratty little rich boy, his other unfortunate personality traits also went quietly unnoticed. Rich people don't have mental problems, you see, they're just eccentric. This is something which was further glossed over by his incredible grades in school and high performances in other areas. He is not, actually, what one would strictly consider intelligent. He does not actually have much in the way of problem solving skills, tends to push through things ad hoc. He has incredible 'computational' potential, but his lack of empathy/emotion/intuition makes him pretty short-sighted. His lack of structured planning, ever at any point, is a definite weakness of his. What he does have, however, is a near photographic memory and an intense level of focus which enables his abilities as a counterfeiter, and elsewhere. His superficial charms and good breeding give him a charismatic edge... sometimes.

I'm Not a Psychopath. Zinc's social skills leave much to be desired, however. Zinc is a high functioning sociopath, to a tee. He lacks empathy in any way, shape, or form, is completely self-centered and focused on his own desires. He lies as it suits him to, and honestly believes that he can lie or bribe his way out of any situation and thus often fails to acknowledge consequences to his actions. The only consequence which truly frightens him is the threat of jail time, and he does everything in his power to go undetected. Prison life would not sit well with him. For all his other bravado, there is a coward lurking at the heart of him. He has a very low tolerance for boredom and frustration, will turn petulant and even violent in the face of it. He has no respect for authority, is irresponsible and impulsive. His impulsiveness has served him well in his life: he is very quick to jump on opportunities that will benefit him. If this happens to violate anyone else along the way... He really could not possibly give less of a fuck.

He is also incredibly promiscuous. He fosters filthy sexual fantasies about nearly every person he meets, and really only stops himself from acting on those interests with a few people. (i.e. Barbet, because he wants to keep his friend more than he wants to fuck him, but oh would he like to fuck him. Durban, because he hates that bitch and because she'd probably shoot him.) For all his other unsavory traits, he's at least not a pedophile though! Isn't that great? Children annoy the hell out of him. Would hurt a child, absolutely.

"Zinc is many unfortunate things, but stupid is not one of them. It was a dangerous thing, to be so selfish and so clever, and it was so very right to think the worst of his flaws had collected together in that personality of his."

Promiscuous Boy. On the grounds of sex, Zinc's particular kinks are very indicative of his personality and his dehumanization/disregard/disinterest of those around him. His favorite way to pick up fucks is to go to raves. He likes this for several reasons, a.) loud techno music b.) drugs and booze make people more pliant, has probably date raped c.) good ratios of bisexuals and swingers d.) he likes dancing in a faceless crowd where he doesn't have to give a fuck what anyone's name is and all he has to care about is body parts. The latter item is also why his preferred methods of sex are threesomes or full orgies. Going over the top with sex also decreases how much his partners will talk, which, as I'll explain below, is not something that entertains him in the slightest. If he ends up in bed with someone talkative, he will tell them to shut up. Zinc doesn't have much of a head for romance.

Exercise. Much like sex, exercise is also a mindless distraction that can keep him entertained, up to a point. His absolute egotism doesn't really allow him to be anything but attractively fit. His strength is deceptive, one would not expect a man who spends all his time hunched over a desk replicating etchings to have much fight in him. But, no, he really can hurt you. He is not, however, a trained fighter. So losing the element of surprise is a detriment to him. He doesn't like to fight, and would prefer not to get his hands dirty, but he does like to win in a fight. It probably goes without saying he doesn't mind fighting dirty.

Shut. Up. Zinc is very impatient with the interests of others, because... he really doesn't care. He doesn't really enjoy listening to people talk about themselves, or... listening to people talk, in general. He doesn't even really like music with lyrics and cannot (I repeat) cannot stand rap. If your music is annoying him? He will kick your radio over. Has done it, will do it again. Turn that shit off. He prefers music with a technological bent to it, loves techno, acid house, noise rock, and even screaming death metal. Zinc is able to humor conversation when it is necessary and benefits him somehow, but in lieu of such benefits... He will just tell you to shut up or walk away.

"An anomaly, eccentric and overly-sexualized, the racing hormones of seventeen year old boy but the unsociable and pedantic mind of a genius, a bad cocktail of a personality, but at least he likes to fuck."

Art. Zinc is an excellent mimic when it comes to skills. He picks up languages quickly, he replicates art and currency easily, can memorize as many digits of pi as you like, but creating anything original is well beyond him. Because of this, he has a ridiculous amount of hero worship for working artists. The more pretentious and starving, the better. Zinc likes it when they talk the talk, and walk the walk. It's for this reason that despite the fact that there's really absolutely no reason he and Barbet should get along in any way, Zinc absolutely adores the man with every part of himself, gets a large amount of thrill that someone he considers a genius pays even a modicum of attention to him. Zinc also appreciates Barbet's work in particular because he works on the zombies, and this work continues to feed Zinc's overall disregard for others. Using mindless zombies for art? That's not completely immoral at all!

Zinc is very easy to lead along if you talk to him about art. If he's decided you're someone who would know about art, he will believe anything you tell him concerning it. He effectively has no taste of his own and latches on to others to guide him, much like an annoying little boy.

Outward Appearance.In this app I've mention Zinc's 'superficial charm' or the way he presents himself generally. These charms are seen on him best when he a.) is in a good mood or b.) wants something from you. This outward appearance that he gives can best be described as 'boyish'. His manners can make it difficult to tell that he is more than seventeen, and his over-sexed behaviors (as discussed with issues of Promiscuity) certainly lend to the overall appearance of youth. Bright eyes and an easy smile give one that sense that he is good-natured and eager, if a bit reckless and directionless. Reckless and eager may be true, but Zinc knows exactly what he wants and is completely coldhearted in his pursuit thereof. These facets of himself are noted as superficial because of how quickly and easily they can be replaced with petulance, boredom, anger, and violence. In true sociopathic form, Zinc rarely actually feels his emotions, is very reactive/tempestuous with a remorseless, untouchable center. He always has his personal interests in mind, although his temper can come back to bite him because of how short-sighted he is.

Barbet and Durban. Zinc's relationships with Barbet and Durban Poison are illustrative of his desires in that while Zinc adores Barbet, Barbet mainly views him as a nuisance and a distraction. Zinc has no real desire for Barbet to like him, he really doesn't care how anyone feels about his personality, not even the artist he adores. What pleases Zinc most is that he's allowed in Barbet's studio to watch him work, and this makes him feel special and privileged, which is obviously something he deserves. Durban, on the other hand, refuses to acknowledge him in any way. Because he has dark eyes and slightly dusky skin, the incredibly racist Durban Poison refuses to deal with him, even if he is the best counterfeiter for several fucking continents. He hates her passionately and mouths off to her any time they're near each other, which is unfortunate considering the crazy bitch's passion for unbridled violence.

Mindless Self-Indulgence. Zinc loves video games and candy. He loves the internet, where he can turn people on and off with the push of the 'ignore' button (or the well placed computer virus, it's really aaall the same to him.) The internet offers him a constant source of instantaneous gratification, whether he wants porn or entertainment. He gets along with technology in general, machines don't have annoying little opinions that they feel the need to voice, they just do as they're instructed.

His opinions can be offensive, I apologize in advance.

✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Photographic memory, remorseless, technology skills, pretty accomplished mimic. He has a head for math, and can get pretty obsessively involved when he's determined to something.
✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: Night.

✧ MASK DESIGN: yeup
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: Barbet's studio.

SAMPLES

✧ FIRST PERSON: [He's been watching the network on his phone. Not his phone, actually, he knows this because of the fact that there was only one of them on the table beside the bed he'd woken in. He also knew because of how many of his personal programs were not operating. Very irritating.]

QUESTION: where do the joytoys stand?

[He's never fucked one of the toys in his life. While they might be blissfully silent they rather lacked the ability to be interested in the goings on around them. Which was the point, arguably. The point of asking, however, is determine something relevant about his new environment.]

QUESTION: who collects the garbage?

BONUS ROUND! how much poison comes in the harbor?

[At the end of his message is a slurry of numbers, and a message:]

9374365274897238956347569182904787873267843925743657826049275862376837528937592079574865829q0863518693874558920365723865263072057848964786027748756963209758934768746578923729038493758964747730273987784654897283789647867834734395866385078362438510475823984758392947565646373829487564759374365274897238956347569182904787873267843925743657826049275862376837528937592079574865829q0863518693874558920365723865263072057848964786027748756963209758934768746578923729038493758964747730273987784654897283789647867834734395866385078362438510475823984758392947565646373829487564759374365274897238956347569182904787873267843925743657826049275862376837528937592079574865829q0863518693874558920365723865263072057848964786027748756963209758934768746578923729038493758964747730273987784654897283789647867834734395866385078362438510475823984758392947565646373829487564759374365274897238956347569182904787873267843925743657826049275862376837528937592079574865829q086351869387455892036572386526307205784896478602774875696320975893476874657892372903849375896474773027398778465489728378964786783473439586638507836243851047582398475839294756564637382948756475

i'll give you a hint: a ≡ b % n

[Which, when unencrypted, spells:]

brass is an alloy of copper and this essential mineral.

✧ THIRD PERSON: He could be methodical, when he chose to be. When it interested him to be, and really that was the problem: his interests. The world was filled with selfishness, he had watched it blossom like an ugly flower all around him for the entirety of his life. Barbet would mock him for that metaphor, would give him that look down his incredible nose that clearly said 'A flower? Really, Zinc? That is the best you could come up with?' It was, he was not given to poetics, was a bit blunt that way. Not elegant in any semblance of the word, but he got the job done. The point (and oh did Zinc have violent fantasies every time someone argued semantics with him) was not the imagery but the message, and the message was selfishness.

His mother with her mimosas every morning, his father with his cars, his peers with their ridiculous little plastic toys, and his teachers with their altruistic desire to have a part of themselves carried on into the future without doing a shred of work to earn it. The latter could be argued about all the parents he met as well, but the majority of them, or so it seemed to him, at least had the sense to admit that their children were mistakes: products of a carnal selfishness.

It was an ugly flower, but Zinc rather liked the smell of it and he cultivated it, slowly, methodically, watered it every day. Indulged himself in every impulse and every whim, beholden to no one. He did not reflect upon the irony of his freedom coming from the methodical scritch scritch scritch of his instruments on malleable zinc plates, or the repetitive stroke of a brush.

If he had no touch for poetics, it was no surprise that irony also passed him cleanly by.

✧ ORIGINAL CHARACTER QUESTION: Zinc has never experienced magic in his life before, it will annoy the hell out of him, and he will probably be suspicious and rude to all evidence of it, but he's... not the kind of person who fails to adapt to a situation. Considering Prom is very much... dreaming up your own entertainment, he'll probably be pretty pissy and bored in general, since he really doesn't have much in the way of an imagination. He is experienced with tech though, and will probably enjoy trololololling when not bemoaning the lack of work to do. Who knows, maybe someone will have something other than counterfeiting for him to do. I see him keeping his text persona and his face to face persona very pointedly separated. He might even introduce himself as Carl.