« Prev 1 Next » Reply Share Thread Facebook Twitter Tumblr LinkedIn MySpace Email Go to Previous Thread Next Thread Please make a selection first Author Topic: Kenneth Simpson (Read 453 times) BK Agent Defense I got some power in my corner. [send pm] Joined: November 2015 Posts: 515 Kenneth Simpson « Nov 22, 2015 3:02:22 GMT -6 » Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Name: Ken Simpson Nickname(s): Big Ken, Ken, BK, Kenny (You call him it, you die.) Status: Student Age: 17 (February) Gender: Male Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Height: 6'5 Weight: 200 Religious Beliefs: None Sexual Orientation: Whatever I feel like. Appearance: Semi-tall. Built well. He's got blonde hair and Blue eyes. Has several scars on his torso and arms. He's got a Tat of an Aztec sun on his left pectoral. He generally wears simple clothes, rather unassuming. Vests, T-shirts, blue jeans and a necklace or two. He wears rings on his fingers, and generally keeps a more rugged look. Personality: Wild and rather brash, Ken tends to like living life as he sees fit. Stemming from a semi-psychotic break when he was thirteen and following a stint in a local hospital, Ken tends not to give too much of a shit about himself or the people around him. Overall, he'll do what's right but regardless of who it hurts or even if it puts his own life in danger. Even then, he'll only be there if he gets something out of it. He has no problems fighting, destroying things, or taking life when he has to. People don't tend to care much for Ken. Despite this, he's not a horrible human being. He tends to try and do what he sees as right, and accepts that his own code of morality can sometimes be abrasive. He's not someone who talks about himself often, at least on a personal level, though he will talk about how awesome he is. He's often seen as childish, a bully, an asshole or a crook. But the truth from his perspective is that he's not fake for anyone elses benefit. He won't pretend to like someone or do something or jump into things unless he wants to, which to some seems selfish but to him just makes sense. Interests: Girls, Parties, alcohol, pickin' fights, guitar, singin'. Skills: He's a damn good drunken boxer/fighter, and he actually has a decent sprint on him. Abilities/Powers:  Iron Hide - He's incredibly resilient to piercing weapons. Blades tend to shatter against his skin and bullets usually bounce off him, like rocks on rubber. Small caliber bullets fired point blank may leave a bruise. Higher caliber bullets can pierce the skin but are unlikely to go too deep. EDIT: Didn't want confusion here- this is not just skin level. Muscle and bone are also very tough. Super Strength - Ken's body has hyper-enhanced strength. He have the ability to lift up to three times his own weight, can jump great heights and his punches do some serious damage. History: He lit the match. Bringing it up to his mouth, Ken took a deep drag off the now-lit smoke. A low moan followed his inhale as his index and middle finger would remove the cancer-stick from between his lips. His right hand was down by his side, covered in blood. Not his own, of course. It had been years since he had seen his own blood. No…this was the blood of the men littering the building whose doorway he was standing in front of. On the ground outside a man was leaning against the tire of a contractor's van, staring at him. A few moments prior he had been cursing him. Impossible now, with his jaw hanging all loose like that. BK stared at him, giving a little smirk as he absent-mindedly spat a piece of tobacco off his tongue. “What?” His question fell unanswered. The man wasn’t humoring him. He was staring at that building. The fucking building. What a run down piece of shit. The entire area was shit. People sleeping on slabs of cardboard, stuffing their jackets with newspaper to keep out the cold. A cesspit. But people here, like the guy leaning on that car had long memories. Ken didn’t know him, he just knew of him. His name was Steven Horan. One of the many pets of Ken’s father. He would look back inside the building before gesturing down the hall with the hand that held his sig and looking back at the man. “What, you’re not still pissed about all this shit, are you? C’mon man, that was all so five minutes ago.” He brought the cig back to his lips and inhaled, but as he let out the acrid air he chuckled at his own joke, his companion not finding it so funny. He sighed at the end of it. Another quick puff came before he hooked his thumbs in his belt, looking down at the guy. He stared for a long time. “Y’know, none of this would have happened if you would have kept to yourself. You asked me last year where he was. Where my father was. I told you to mind your own fucking business. Instead….you kept digging. Your arms stuck the shovel in the earth of your own fucking grave and despite me telling you to climb out before you got too deep you just kept right on digging. Tch. Dumbass.” He spat again. Pushing off with his back from the frame of the door and sitting on the small porch next to the gas can, Ken stuck the cig in his mouth. He stared at the broken-jawed fella. Stared at his busted legs. At his arms propping up his body. “Fuck did you expect?” It came muffled around the smoke, which he promptly withdrew after a drag, propping his arms on the top of his legs. “But hey, you’re gonna be a dead man soon, what with those arteries in your legs leaking all over the ground. And damn if I’m not the type to give a man a last wish.” He would flick some ash off the smoke. “See, I was born up the street. St.Clarences hospital. Mom was a stay at home kinda gal, dad worked at the mill. Full time construction, baby. ‘Only kind of work worth doing is done with your hands’. He said that shit so often to make up for his own fucking lack of a decent living wage you could just tell it was said to convince himself more than others. I was young. Impressionable. He wasn’t about the tell me that the mill was a front for fuckers like you and him. People who like to rob, and murder, and rape, and kidnap. Nah. He had to treat it like he was makin’ paper or sawdust or some shit. Make out like an honest American. At least when I was young enough in his eyes. And boy, when he figured out I could do this-!?” He hammer-fisted his hand down, slamming it into the edge of the concrete steps he sat on, imploding it there and leaving a small baseball sized crater there. “-he about shit himself with Joy. At two years old, I was as strong as him. By four, I was beyond him. But you know what they say, can’t have the good without the bad, right? As soon as I hit double digits dad thought to put me into the business. And I did, for a while. Slapped around piss-ants like you so he could make an extra buck. Year or two of that shit and I got the idea. I caught on quick, y’know? I quit doing his dirty work, and he quit liking me so much. He drank more. Took it out on mom. He wouldn’t do it when I was there, kuz he knew i’d put him in a similar position as yourself.” He brought the smoke to his lips, watching the guy stare at him. “Don’t worry Stevey, I’m getting to the good part. I’ll finish before you bleed out.” He flicked a little more ash off and continued. “Anyway- He found out that while mom was getting slapped around, she was collecting dirt on his ass. Recordings, videos, pictures and shit. She got him to admit to murder on tape. In response, he had one of his guys put a bullet in her head. Pow. Between the eyes. Hilarious if you think about the hypocrisy- ‘Only kind of work worth doing is done with your hands’, yet he couldn’t even do mom himself? Prick. Unfortunately, the cops had already been in talks with her so they booked him shortly afterward. Rather than rot in prison- and here comes the good part Stevey- rather than rot in prison, he turned rat on all you pussies and deferred his sentence. He flipped on every crime boss or brother he knew, and they put him in protective custody. New name, a little cash. A new life. I was sent to Paradigm to work gigs with people my own age and mindset and shits like you have been on the run ever- Oh. Damn.” Steven’s eyes were blank. Clearly he had been dead for a few minutes. Shame. “Ah, sorry about that Steve. Guess you didn’t get to hear that final bit after all. I’m sure my Dad meant a lot to you, and you wanted to bring the people down who took everything from him or you or whoever you work with. But he did it himself, big guy. And he did it to all of you. Good luck down there in the heat, I hear it’s a bitch- and sorry for what had to happen. But if anyone is gonna pop that mans head from his shoulders, it’s gonna be me.” He would stand and turn, flicking the smoke into the building which immediately caught on fire from the gas he poured throughout it. He wiped the snot from his nose, taking as he began wiping his hands on his shirt. He hopped onto his bike and revved it a little, spinning out….and flying back to school, not even bothering to look back as the flames climbed into the sky behind him. Ken awoke.  He sat up in bed, bringing a hand up to his face. Sweat. He was dizzy too. Looking over at the clock, he could see it was only 4am, the evidence of the dark outside magnified by the light slamming in through the window. He groaned and moved over, sitting onto the edge of the bed and cracking his neck. Rolling his shoulders. Partial truths and blood always seemed to mix in his dreams. His own desires to find his father, and his problems addressing his past. He needed to find something to take his mind off things.  He eyed the clock again, rolling head around after and pushing himself out of bed. No use going back to sleep. He started pulling on clothes. The gym sounded about right. « Last Edit: Feb 7, 2017 21:28:40 GMT -6 by BK » Back to Top   Theme: In the Pines Jack Makaila Moderator Director of Terror [color=limegreen]I'm your daddy.[/color] [send pm] Joined: March 2011 Posts: 21,584 Kenneth Simpson « Nov 22, 2015 14:22:26 GMT -6 » Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Alright, let's go through this. #1: You've been writing Dan instead of Ken in several spots in the bio. You might want to fix that. #2: Considering Ken has two separate powers, they would each be at half strength from normal. That said, even if you were to combine the two together, like John Allcott, John at the same age was nowhere near able to attain the same levels of strength, so the power needs to be toned down. This is without even considering the inconsistency of being unable to lift and throw a car, but somehow able to bench press a bus. #3: Paradigm doesn't take in full blown murdering psychopaths without some way to control them, at least, not knowingly. Even Jack, who suffered psychotic episodes, took medication to control it in order to keep from being a danger to those around him. If Ken was given a new name and identity, there would be records on him from the government. If it was just his father given the protective custody treatment, then his past murderous spree would end up having him be put away, rather than invited to Paradigm's ranks. Back to Top   BK Agent Defense I got some power in my corner. [send pm] Joined: November 2015 Posts: 515 Kenneth Simpson « Nov 22, 2015 14:44:55 GMT -6 » Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top 1: Yeah, wrote it half asleep haha. Fixed. 2: Alright, toned down the strength- it was more of a similarity of people being able to bench press 300 pounds but not able to hurl a 200 pound pile of weight across the room, just on a larger scale. But, I also know that abilities should be built to grow over time, so fixed! 3: Added in a dream factor, that way it can be more of a "shit that goes on in his head" sort of deal rather than a reality. Hope that works Back to Top   Theme: In the Pines Jack Makaila Moderator Director of Terror [color=limegreen]I'm your daddy.[/color] [send pm] Joined: March 2011 Posts: 21,584 Kenneth Simpson « Nov 22, 2015 15:04:22 GMT -6 » Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Alright, works for me. Contact Mathew Amtrum for a trainer. Back to Top   Reply Share Thread Facebook Twitter Tumblr LinkedIn MySpace Email Go to Previous Thread Next Thread Please make a selection first