Marcus Brooklyn

The Player:

OOC Account: The OOC account's name is "<>Marcus<>", but you can just call me Marcus, Marc, or Brooklyn.
Age: Eighteen. Yes, I'm literate. XD
Activity Level: Practically on all the time. I have a job, too, thank you. XD
Other Characters: Nope; not really.

Basic Character Information:

Name: Marcus Brooklyn
Alias: Marcus, Marc, Brooklyn
Gender: Male
Age: Eighteen
Alleigance: Swears allegiance to nobody
Position: N/A
Species: Mutant [Psychic: Specializes in Levitation]
Sexuality: Homosexual, casually open about it to those he trusts


Hobbies:

• Martial arts/fighting
  
• Breakdancing
  
• Video Games
  
• Drawing
  
• Reading
  
• Free Running
  
• Spending time with Pokemon and friends
  

Likes:

• Adrenaline rush
  
• Winning
  
• Romance; leans towards shounen-ai romance, obviously
  
• Being recognized for his talents
  
• Being around Pokemon he likes
  
• Rain, both light and heavy
  
• Tails; he has an odd fetish for tails
  
• Asian-style cooking and food
  
• People who don't judge others
  
• Rangers; admires their best efforts to save the world
  
• Legendary Pokemon; deep aspiration to catch at least a glimpse of one
  

Dislikes ( WEAKNESSES):

• Pravus; stories of their horrible experiments bother him
  
• Rangers; will not work for them, but will have no trouble working with them
  
• Bug Pokemon; an average leveled phobia from his childhood
  
• Ghost Pokemon; constantly stalks him for reasons unknown
  
• Poseurs
  
• Losing
  
• Being called a failure
  
• Slipping up
  
• Whiny women and children
  
• Creepers, perverts, and letches.
  

Appearance

\__Physical Appearance__

Marcus’s hair color is almost as black as a starless night sky, which is somewhat of a problem for him during sunny weather, as his hair can get super hot. It travels down to about his lower waist in length, his bangs going just past his chin line. As impossible as it looks to manage, it’s rather well-kept for a giant clump of hair attached to a person’s scalp. Marcus will usually tie it back into a ponytail whenever a big fight pops up, or whenever he simply can’t stand it being in his face any longer. However, due to personal beliefs, he refuses to cut it.

His eyes are a deep sapphire blue in color, which reminds people of crystal clear water from the beautiful, blue oceans - that is, if many people have seen an ocean in their life. They radiate a sort of warm stare whenever looked in to, which can near instantly win Marcus an ally due to the genuine levels of trust and honesty that are reflected within his gaze. However, when provoked or angered, this warmth nearly disappears on a whim, turning his stare into a penetrating, icy glare of death - if looks could kill. Most of the time, though, they are full of that glittering, brilliant magnificence of adventure-seeking and excitement, always eager to see new places and experience new things.

His skin is rather pale for appearance, thanks to his inclination to remain in shadowed environments - however, it does not mean that he is completely unable to tan. He, however, is prone to burning easily without proper protection, so he chooses to wear an all-black outfit during most of the day. People assume he has a sort of skin condition whenever they look at him, but he simply shrugs it off like it was nothing to really be ashamed of.

His body looks slim, but in actuality, possesses the strength of years and years of martial arts training and physical endurance exercises. His tall, lanky body can give most people the impression that Marcus had never been experienced in a fight before, in which he will then surprise his would-be assailants with surprising effect. He takes advantage of his height over shorter people, or people who simply just refuse to listen to his passive demands for peace at times, by swooping in with long strides and allowing whatever comes to mind to take effect.

\__Clothing__

Marcus’s entire wardrobe is ninety-eight percent composed of black articles of clothing, and the rest is, basically, whatever the hell he wants in there. At times, you will see him wearing either a pair of slim, expensive goggles or a customized pair of sunglasses during one of his casual strolls around the Remoor region. He also believes it allows him to hide better against obscure backgrounds, as black can blend in with just about anything at night-time.

Upper body-wise, he will switch it up between either a fishnet shirt or a regular, maroon T-shirt. Black wifebeaters are also seen upon his body, for a slimming appearance. Over this is usually a jacket of some kind, but a majority of the time, Marcus will be seen wearing a specialized, custom-made trench coat that splits into seven coat-tails about mid-waist that travel down to his ankles, the collar is almost always popped up. Arms will sometimes be covered with red or black arm sleeves, with chains, straps, or belts attached to whatever it can be attached, or he will occasionally wear a pair of black, fingerless gloves with pads on the knuckles.

On the lower body, his pants will always, always, ALWAYS consist of black, baggy “Tripp style” pants - flared out at the feet, long at the legs, and overly decked out with about six or seven pockets. He will wear belts, chains, and straps galore; to overall improve his own self-induced sense of style, most of it being dragon-related paraphernalia. Depending on Marcus’s mood depends on whether or not you will see color in his outfits. The brighter the pants seams or the straps, the happier he usually is. On the back of his belt line is a long strap of leather that trails down to the back of his feet. Nobody knows why he wears this special belt strap, but he believes it’s the closest thing to a tail he’s ever going to get. His pants are “required” to have deep pockets, for comfort purposes.

His shoes make all the difference these days. He is usually seen wearing a pair of heavy-duty combat boots, in black leather of course. On the sides of these boots are small pouches for whatever he wishes to store in there, ranging from small smoke pellets to even large combat knives. Either that, or he will wear a pair of “ninja style” sandals, for easy maneuverability in flat land or desert terrain, where it won’t hinder his movements.

Personal Related Information

\__Personality__

Marcus is always one to love getting into all sorts of trouble, be it with nature or society. He doesn’t think of himself as any form of tool whatsoever, and will usually prove his point by any means necessary. He loves getting into a scrap every now and then, and he’ll usually have the bruises and the grin on his face to prove it; but normally, he tries to stay out of fights he knows he can’t win. Marcus is a very reliable person to fight with, on terms of team battles, and can usually be trusted to act as a team player - but only to those he trusts with his life. As negative of an aspect as fighting usually is, he fights for what he believes is right, and will help those in need.

He is a closet romanticist at heart, and can sometimes be seen reading love novels. He loves rainy weather, light or heavy, as he believes it’s a good noise to sleep or meditate to. He doesn't smoke, which explains his perfect lung condition and his inability to hack up anything partaining to said organs should he get tired. Most people find him wierd for liking men rather than women, but Marcus has a positive outlook on the tides of romance, and believes that Mr. Right will come for him one day.

On the negative, he can get very surly with everyone around him whenever something bad happens to affect the way he lives, or if he doesn’t get his way by his own methods. If this happens, the best thing to do is to just leave him alone for a few days. He will lash out at anyone who bothers him when he’s on his negative streaks, so be prepared for scarring in one form or another.

He also loves to get into fights, like his “positive aspect”, but it usually turns up being negative later on; per se, he loves to challenge anyone whom he feels is stronger than him, simply to prove a point. It may clash with his slight bouts of pacifism, but in reality, this is only shown towards people who are arrogant and just downright jerks. He has been known to drink at times, and his mood depends on how much he drinks. Best not get into a bar fight with this guy.

He is homosexual, meaning he digs dudes. However, as open as he is about it, he has trust issues on whom he can really just blather it out to, so he tends to keep quiet about that little tidbit around massively large groups of foreign people. As contradictory as that sounds, he has a sort of instinctive "sixth sense" when it comes to a group of people he somehow knows will start bashing on him for digging a boy rather than girls, like most males do. However, he has, despite his slight apprehension to tell everyone he is, accepted himself for who he is and is unafraid to tell others his secret, should he be asked first.

History:
Marcus Brooklyn was born in an uneventful fashion, raised by two “average Joe” parents, Richard Brooklyn and Chiyo Shimizu: whom had met during a hot-blooded Pokemon battle within the Pokemon Coliseum in Indigo Plateau that eventually escalated into more than just a love for raising Pokemon. They had wed with full blessings from each of their families and bore Marcus in Viridian City.

Marcus was a spirited child during his youth, always roaming towards the upper edge of Viridian Forest to watch the various assortments of Pokemon play and do what they normally did. At one point, he had attempted to make friends with a Kakuna; this was instantly countered as a swarm of Beedrill eventually attacked the young boy, whom was sent to serious medical treatment for the injuries he received. He would always carry this fear of Bug Pokemon later on in his life, but he would eventually overcome it about a third of the way, the rest of the two-thirds usually resulting in him freezing in fear or simply screaming his head off.

They would eventually take travel towards Lavender Town, where Marcus would frequently visit the old Pokemon Tower that stood there, housing the dead Pokemon from ages past. But every time he visited, he would always be followed by about two or three Ghastly, or even a few Haunters, before he had finally had enough of the place. He would, out of desperate pleas, beg his mother and father to move to a different location because he was constantly being pestered by Ghost Pokemon. They would comply with Marcus’s pleas, only for his protection.

They would move to Saffron City by the time the boy turned nine, in which Marcus’s powers as a natural born psychic would begin to develop. He had begun to notice that, during one of his random space-outs, he could see small pebbles no bigger than the size of his thumbnail occasionally float up in the air and swirl around the boy’s location. He was informed of this strange and wonderful power by one of the various psychics that roamed the Gym’s front yards, whom had informed his parents that he was gifted with this ability to levitate small objects. Marcus, in his determined state, pleaded his parents to learn “how to move stuff with his mind”. They were, of course, naturally worried he may use these unnatural abilities for bad purposes, in which the psychic had assured him that he would never do such a thing - he was too innocent to know how to willingly hurt someone and refrain from feeling guilty.

He trained in his art of levitation through the mind until he was taken in by the neighboring Gym Leader, whom had eagerly attempted to force the learning of the martial arts on the boy. Naturally split between his indecision to choose either mind or matter, he simply got frustrated and quit both training, deciding to do whatever he wanted whenever he felt like it. By this time, though, he was interested in learning the art of Pokemon Training, something he felt compelled to do for a very long time. At this time, though, he was forced into a three-way split: development of his psychic abilities, his training in the martial arts, or his wish to learn how to battle and raise Pokemon.

His psychic trainer had wishfully wanted Marcus to do whatever his heart, and his mind, set itself on. His martial arts instructor, however, was a stubborn old goat and wanted him to be physically fit and capable of fighting on his own. His parents were torn as well over the decision Marcus had to ultimately make for himself, but the boy didn’t seem to really care either way. In the end, he thanked both his psychic development teacher and his instructor of the fighting arts before he moved back to Viridian City to learn the art of Pokemon Training, having been developed into an obsession due to his exposure to the creatures for quite some time.

He developed a personal favorite for the Dragon, Psychic, Fighting, and Fire Types; all which matched the boy’s growing personality along his years of study. Up front, he would constantly remain attentive in class and take as many notes as he could to learn about the various tips and tricks of the Pokemon trade; while on the side, he continuously developed both his ability to levitate objects with his mind and physically enhance his body to withstand any punishment he got into, should he get into such punishment-inducing activities. By age eleven, he had gained enough mental power to levitate his father’s very own Charmeleon, and gained enough physical prowess to be considered a petite force in the fighting ring. He had eventually fine-tuned his power of the mind to focus himself to levitate off the ground, which he would continuously practice until he perfected the art of “mind flight”.

By age twelve, the standard age of acceptance into the trainer society, Marcus graduated with flying colors as an exceptional Pokemon trainer hopeful. However, Marcus did not obtain his starter Pokemon like most others would - he discovered his. During one of his night-time strolls across Pallet Town, in eager anticipation to watch as the doors to the famous Professor Oak’s laboratory open, he heard a light noise that sounded like sobbing emerge from a nearby pond area. Searching high and low for the origins, he noticed a rare, gold Charmander crying near the pond it was sitting next to, the moonlight from above making its skin glitter like a sequined dress. The boy naturally felt sorry for the poor creature, being all alone at this time of night, and spent practically all day playing with the Charmander, whom he eventually would make friends with. Finding out from Professor Oak that it was recently abandoned by an unloving Trainer made Marcus only want to take it with him even more, like a lost pet, in which the tiny, gold Fire Type instantly agreed to go along with him. Being sent off with a tearful farewell from his parents, Marcus Brooklyn eventually started his journey to become a well known Pokemon Trainer.

Later on, at age thirteen, during his quest for his third Gym Badge at Vermillion City, he would find an injured and obviously abandoned Riolu lying near the water’s edge of a nearby beach. Rushing it to the nearest Pokemon Center, he eventually gained the small Pokemon’s thanks before being challenged to a battle by it; an unusual factor of pride was present in it. Accepting it as an honorable challenge, Marcus sent his Shiny Charmander to weaken the Pokemon before he had effectively and effortlessly captured Riolu as his own. He would eventually book passage to the strange region known as Remoor. Marcus, Charmander, and Riolu had no idea what they were up against when they booked passage on that ship that day...

[Timeskip - To be explained throughout RP]

Marcus, his Charmander, and his Riolu, had gotten into a little too much trouble during their stay in the Remoor region. Having been subjected to five, nerve-hardening years of whatever hell this region went through, the trio had undergone a dramatic transformation in personality, temperament; even battle nature. Marcus had also developed his telekinetic powers to near-perfection, and is now capable of picking up a human-sized object his weight or lower. He uses this mainly as a means of intimidation, as he can allow himself to levitate in front of his opponents to scare them into thinking him to be of the Pravus Corporation as a genetically altered "Pokemorph". They had gone to what they were supposed to be - Pokemon Trainers - to battle-hardened veterans of a war-torn wasteland, desperately clinging on to life and cherishing each moment like their last.

Role Playing
Sample:

Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.

The sound of steel toed boots beating in perfect rhythm were heard echoing throughout the underground sewers of New York City's dankest regions. Like the netherworlds of Hell itself, the place was rife with disgusting, foul creatures the likes of which were never seen before. And yet, ignorant as they always were, the humans would continue on with their petty and pathetic lives, acting as if though nothing too terrifying or gruesome existed beneath their very feet. Like common gerbils in a cage, being fed with lies and secrets to pamper and coddle them so that the truth would never be exposed. The truth would always remain hidden, so long as these humans were kept pacified. It was like the perfect world - a world in which everything happened exactly the way the person wanted it to.

Clank. Clank. Clank. Clank.

But what if...? What if the person knew something was wrong with the world around them? What if the person began to question the very reality that they stared at every day, for the past however-many years they spent on that god-forsaken planet? What if they began to realize that the reality that they stared at every day... wasn't real? Only a very select, few people ever come to the startling revelation that their entire reality was a lie, and a select fewer ever got the chance to escape this "false reality". In the end - it was all a matter of choice. They either chose to accept their reality, or chose to deny it. Those who accepted it... Well, let's just say they won't be "waking up" any time soon, from this pathetic dream. But those who denied this dream... This "false reality"...

Ch-CCHKLACK!

They experienced the Matrix at its finest. And escaped the web of deceit.

___

"Yo, Zeus. What's your status? You're heading down 21st and Broadway; the booth's the other way!" the voice of an older male over a static-charged cellular phone's receiverr. The clattering footsteps against concrete echoed throughout the cityscape as another male, a younger one in his late teen years, charged through the dark alleyways as three, middle-aged men in black suits and sunglasses chased after, the echoes of gunshots heard all over. The young teenager, a hacker, was once again under the chase of Agents - special programs designed to target and hunt down his kind, the kind that apparently was a threat to the "reality" they were breaching.

"Little busy right now, Omega. Can you call me back later?" sarcastically shouted Marcus Brooklyn, hacker alias "Zeus", as he slammed closed the flip-style phone before nonchalantly tossing it out to the side to climb up a metal-runged latter, effortlessly pulling himself up bar after bar. The Agent below simply looked above like the robots they were, shooting their shining, nine millimeter pistols round after round towards the teenager who, somehow, managed to avoid all of them as he continued his sprint down the metal gratings. The Agents, being the super-powered computer programs they were, simply allowed themselves to practically leap up three stories to catch up in altitude with Zeus, rushing forward with their built-in super speed programs.

The boy had already reached the end of the line - a building's ledge. The three suits had surrounded the boy in a U-shape formation, pointing their weapons at the hacker, whom simply stood there. He had shoulder-length hair, well shampooed and conditioned, as his black turtleneck sweater soaked in the "breeze" that overtook the rooftops. He slowly swiveled his back towards the roof's edge, looking down towards the busy traffic below. "Resistance is futile, Mr. Brooklyn." one Agent would droll in a monotone voice, his gun's hammer being pulled back to form that deadly-sounding click noise. Smirking in taunt, the teenager closed his eyes.

The Matrix makes it real... Your mind makes it real... Zeus would chant in his mind, in the legendary words of hacker, Morpheus. The Matrix was, effectively, a gigantic game of virtual reality. The mind itself, the most powerful weapon a human being ever possessed, made whatever happened in the Matrix physically believable. If one ate a bowl of ramen, one would feel the bowl's effects in the real world. If one got shot in the kneecaps in the Matrix - you would feel it there, too. The same concept applied to death as well; die in the Matrix, you die in life. However, it never really seemed to work in reverse, as one could "pull the plug" on you in the real world - thus, effectively, sealing your mind permanently in the Matrix. You'd die in life, though. But it'd take you quite a while to die in the Matrix, should you still be alive.

Breathing heavily, he concentrated as hard as he could. The ground below... It would be jelly to him. He would not die if he hit the ground. He would bounce off of the ground like he was in a pool of jelly... He trusted this belief, as Zeus allowed himself to fall backwards off the building's edge, to the Agent's discontent. To think, a measly hacker would throw his life away. They would simply fritz out of existence as the boy continued to fall, fall, fall, down to the ground below. Mind makes it real, mind makes it real, mind makes it real...!!! he would frantically think aloud as he desperately continued to feel compelled to actually believe he'd simply bounce off the ground.

To his surprise, he actually felt himself sink into the ground shortly on impact, but not in the way where he felt his organs splatter all over the pavement. He felt like he, literally, was sinking into the ground, as he then felt himself get catapulted upward once more. Yelping loudly, he fell back to earth once again, this time, hitting hard pavement once more as he gasped aloud as the wind was knocked out of him. Groaning, he got up from his location feebly and shook the dust off of him. "So much for an easy test run..." he would sarcastically respond to himself as if he were mocking home-base, when he had heard the distinct, ringing sound of a telephone nearby.

The phone booth - his ultimate goal. Yes, how he longed to finally get out of this accursed place he actually thought he called "the real world"! Hastily, he hustled over towards the phone and, without a second warning, he felt himself be charged. His mind felt as if though it was being separated from his body like he did that one day - when he took the red pill. He felt like he was being pulled back out of the clutches of that horrible machine that he was supposedly "born" in. His mind was being pulled back into his original body, back onboard the Bahamut - the anti-gravity ship that had been constructed deep within the bowels of the world's sewer systems, long since been inhabited by the ever-growing population of Sentinels that guarded the world. Feeling a slight jerk in the back of his neck, Marcus awoke from his location, staring back into the eyes of whom he code-named "Omega", his azure blue irises rolling sarcastically.

"Next time, warn me when there are Agents on the loose."


Characters Pokemon:
[To be described in the next post]