Kennen Petrov (FIN) Feb 11, 2013 19:25:46 GMT -5
Post by Kennen "KO" Petrov on Feb 11, 2013 19:25:46 GMT -5
Kennen Sentinel Petrov[/font][/size][/color]
"When you ask yourself why your dog dies, and say 'woe is me', always remember- My parents died for a crime they didn't commit, I was arrested on false charges of rape, my little sister was taken away, I had to break out of prison, the town I settled down in was entirely made up of the people who were trying to get me, and they put me under a distorted reality spell... Who is woe now?"
Full Name: Kennen Sentinel Petrov
Code Name: KO
Date of Birth: July Sixteenth
Sexual Orientation: bisexual
Species: Mutant (Homo Superior), first generation
Canon or Original?: Original
"Victory is MINE Baldy!
And if you had any hair I'd take that too!"
And if you had any hair I'd take that too!"
Hair: Kennen is very, very proud of his midnight black hair. He brushes it meticulously every day without fail, and admits to using women's shampoos and moisturizers to keep it soft and clean. He wears it at a length that just covers his ears, and when his head is tipped forward, falls over his eyes.
Eyes: Kennen's eyes are a dark shade that almost matches his hair, but not quite. One can never tell wether they are a dark brown, blue, or hazel; debate raged between his parents over this. They are round in shape, but are starting to get into that narrow position that all sharpshooters end up having their eyes in.
Weight: 180 lbs.
Distinguishing Marks: A long, pink scar running down the length of his left arm, from a childhood accident; and a tattoo of a fairy with the letters "KelP" written in, on his right shoulder.
Appearance: To say the least, Kennen Petrov is a tall, imposing human who at first glance is the Justin Bieber of NYPD Special Forces. To understand this (admittedly very embarrassing) comparison more closely, one has to go to his core. Ukrainian blood runs through his veins, his parents having immigrated to the states from there. Mother Nature and Lady Luck have seemingly seen to it that in another life he would be a model or an actor. His looks are just... good. One can't really say why or how, but in an indirect way they are attractive, and this produces an effect that whisks the girls to his side in droves. Perhaps its the seriousness he holds in his face all the time, or how his eyes are deeper than any one will ever meet. A deep, sorrowful etch resides in them, and often he sports dark circles underneath from sleepless nights, haunted by dreams of the past him and his sister share. It may even be his rarely-seen smile, how it can appear at the most unlikely times and in the most unlikely situations (or sometimes at the worst jokes out there). Or, perhaps, the key is his definitely Justin-like hair, which is never out of place and is always one of the first things he gets complimented on. The only thing scholars and admirers can agree on is that one can't completely know for sure.
To top the whole package off, he is in almost perfect physical shape, and has a rigorous exercise routine formed even before he was offered a job with the NYPD, perhaps even before his parents were arrested and sentenced to death. He always hits the gym at six o' clock every morning, concentrating especially on core workouts and on his leg strength. Girls have been caught more than once by staff trying to peek in the locker rooms while he is changing. Because he takes his job, his livelihood, his personal life, and the happiness of those around him, most especially Kellsee, very seriously, he is willing to go to the max to keep himself in pristine physical condition.
His standard, everyday getup mostly consists of ripped jeans, tee shirts, running shoes, and perhaps a bandanna, though it is not uncommon to see him in sweats or hoodies. When at work, always seen in a SWAT or NYPD outfit. As mentioned later, his power dramatically affects his appearance, most notably his body proportions. (409)
Face Claim: Ben Barnes
"I’m not interested in making new friends,
I don’t even like the ones I have”
I don’t even like the ones I have”
- The Sis- Kellsee
- Being a cop
- The sound of sirens
- A good, intense SWAT job
- Helping innocent people like himself out of sticky situations
- Peace, quiet, and seclusion
- Uubal (pronounced you-ball)
- Overly-Cheery People (except for his sister, of course)
- The Smell of Smoke
- Having to use his powers in public
Personality: Sometimes Kennen still wonders what he did wrong, or what special connection he had to something or other that qualified him and his family for the suffering they went through. At one time he still believed that there was a God in Heaven who watched over his sheep and comforted all. Where had He been through all their misfortunes, and why hadn't he answered their cries for help during the trials that eventually brought death to two innocent people? After the grueling half hour he spent listening to his parents die, any trace of that former belief had vanished, replaced by a firm resolve not to accept any religion ever again. Much of Kennen's personality is similar in nature to that now: pessimistic, naturally suspicious, and ready for any crooked turn he may find himself on. However, also like his change before, he wasn't always that way.
As a young boy and as a tween and teen, Kennen was a friendly person, easy to get along with, a brilliant individual who made a ton of friends and could crack a joke off the top of his head to make anyone within a ten foot radius (including himself) laugh. He was a go getter, wasting no time with idle actions, and a chick magnet, though for the longest time he never was devoted to a single one of the preppy blondes he reeled in. Adults couldn't help falling in love with him, too: every report card sent home had glowing comments written all across the front. "Brilliant Student." "Love having your son in class." "Shows great promise." No one doubted that he had the potential to do whatever he wanted in life, his ultimate dream of being a Chicago Policeman included in that. For a long time the kid was obsessed with Policemen. He had a cop-themed room, his backpack had Police badges on it, and he was always begging for an internship at the Police station, even for a day.
That was something else that was gone after the executions of his parents. Though he partly understood that there was no evidence that Mischa and Stephanie didn't murder those five people he still didn't understand why their completely white criminal records didn't count for something. However, that opinion is in the past, too, and at the current moment he stands with a deep seated respect of all officers and tactical specialists. Even Kennen doesn't completely know why he chose to go into special forces after all the letdowns law enforcement had dealt him in his life, but it seemed to be fate.
Also, Kennen's girl habit is gone. Now he just prefers to keep to himself. The only young lady he will even look at with a hint of adoration is Kellsee. She is the love of his life, and he will give anything to protect and care for her. Though perhaps a bit overbearing, he is deeply concerned for her future, and lately has been wondering what to do about he rapidly-blooming powers and girly interests. He knows nothing about being a female, and so has felt at a huge disadvantage. One of the most embarrassing moments of his life was having to Google for info when Kellsee started her periods. At the moment he is searching for some kind of mentor, a pseudomom perhaps, who would be able to visit Kellsee regularly and supply information that Kennen can't. Also high on his list has been someplace or one that would be able to helo her control her powers. That last incident with Billy Unrein wasn't the first (see history), and it won't be the last if Kennen can't find a way to control it. (616)
"With great power comes great responsibility"
- Superhuman Reflexes - Can dodge mostly anything with skill and precision, almost to the point that it seems like he can guess his opponent's next move.
- Superhuman Accuracy - Can hit a specific, small area with no aiming. However, his best shot comes from a three-second aim.
- Limbs turn to firearms- Kennen can transform his arms into any firearm imaginable- bazooka, flame thrower, sniper rifle, etc- you name it, he can deliver. However, he can only shoot these fireams if he has the actual ammo/rounds/cartridge/whatever makes that gun tick on him.
- Small guns, anything up to a rifle, will make his arm shorter in order to get enough firepower to work. A sniper rifle and above takes his whole arm, and has to be fired with the other hand.
- On these big guns, to hold the barrel steady, all he has to do it tense up the gun arm.
- His hand is fused to the pommel of his natural guns, so it is not possible for anyone other than himself to fire one.
- There is no bone in his own firearms at all, only a metal-like alloy that seems to have all the properties metalloids do. It is said that either: the bones in his arms, if not his whole skeleton, is made out of this durable, heat and impact-resistant material; or, when he chooses to activate his powers, a modified gene starts coding for this compound. However, no x-rays or CAT scans have been taken to determine if either one of these theories is really the case.
- However, in the scant moments it takes him to form one of his firearms, he is very vulnerable- the compound only appears and hardens when all the working parts are fully formed. If caught at the right time, his hand can literally be sliced off, to permanent injury. That's why he has to be extra careful, when he decides to use his powers instead of just pulling a normal firearm.
Weapons Other than his natural ones, just those that he is required to carry by the Police Force and the ones he uses during SWAT missions. Also, one could consider any ammo he has on him a weapon, but if he's around people he probably won't use his power.
- Much tactical and combat training has been pumped into him since he went into the NYPD one year ago.
- Though not super strong, can bench 250+ pounds.
- Always demands the facts, will never assume a situation is the way he sees it.
- Practices restraint. Disciplines himself in it on a day-to-day basis. Will not attack unless absolutely necessary.
- If he gets caught with no ammo, he's pretty much useless beyond the threat of brilliant reflexes and sheer imagination.
- The vulnerable few moments he has before his natural metal compound hardens
- All around he's soft and fragile. Very much Human.
- Unwilling to depend on those who have not made his trust. Weak sense of comraderie and improperly self-sufficient.
- Vain. Nuff said.
"All it takes is one bad day to reduce
the sanest man alive to lunacy,"
the sanest man alive to lunacy,"
History: Sad but true are the stories of Kennen and Kellsee Petrov, monotonous sequences of events that seem to tromp on with an intent to destroy the two's happinesses. However there are bright points, and what the future holds is a possibility worth looking forward to. For sake of a future roleplayer's willingness to take on Kellsee, I will try my hardest to stay primarily on Kennen's history, and allow creative freedom with the younger of the two siblings.
Kennen Sentinel Petrov was born on July Sixteenth, 1991 to middle-class Ukrainian Immigrants Mischa and Stephanie Petrov. In 1990 the couple was forced to flee to America when a crackdown on Christians began- the Muslim population, though a minority, became a growing problem when news reached their ears of the successes of heavily Jihad-influenced patterns in Afghanistan and elsewhere. Mischa had once been a prominent pediatrician in Kiev, and Stephanie was a psychologist. They never returned though both felt a huge duty to serve the children of their homeland, and planned to go back multiple times, even to the point of getting plane tickets; however, the hostility between the two religions would have been suffocating, so it was probably a good thing they never did.
The couple settled down in Chicago, Illinois, and made a nice living there. After all, their respective degrees gave them an advantage. One year later, Kennen was born, and three after that, Kennen gained a little sister. Mischa and Stephanie raised their children on unwavering morals and took them to church every week though at first it was hard for them to understand the way Americans talked. Though they had taken English in their years at Kiev University, it had been a while since they had brushed up on their languages. Because of this first little while and the fact that the Petrov household still was mainly Ukrainian-speaking, Kennen and his little sister are fluent and can write in both English and the language of their ancestors.
Kennen was a cute toddler, however early on he had an almost obsessive interest in firearms. Mischa had to be very careful to keep his .22 caliber and pistols locked up in the gun cabinet, and sometimes even that was not enough. On more than one occasion Stephanie ran into the master bedroom to see their little son playing with a bullet or gun left laying or pulled from the cabinet. Luckily, however, nothing too damaging happened, and no emergency room trips ever resulted from the little Petrov boy's "Curiosity". Actually, the only time that he did need medical attention was the incident that gave him his scar. He was climbing a telephone pole, of all things, when he touched a live wire with his shoulder. The seven year old fell thirty feet to the ground, screaming in pain, landing backfirst and cracking his head against the pavement. The blackout lasted five days. Luckily no brain damage was sustained, and the only thing leftover from the accident now on Kennen's body is the scar where the wire sliced deep into the flesh. Also, in a way this incident can be attributed to the discovery of his powers: as Mischa patched his son up, he was startled to see Kennen's hand start to form into a pistol. Slowly, it formed every working mechanism from the inside out, hammer, barrel, trigger, etc, until the shiny gray surface came to light. Then it immediately disassembled itself and started to form a .22 caliber rifle... an AK-47... a flamethrower... an Uzi... Every gun one could think of ran through Kennen's hand until the kid woke. From then on, all Kennen needed to do was think of a gun and will it so- and the arm- or arms- formed to his wishes, without the ammo, of course. In secret, out in a back field, the boy trained himself to deal with the pain discharging his personal firearm caused, and developed a tolerance to it.
Compiling a 4.0 GPA all the way through Middle School and keeping it that way to his sophomore year of High School, Kennen was known statewide for his academic achievement, bravado, and determination. Perhaps this is the result of his parents' strict disciplinarianship, or of the educational materials they pumped into their children at a young age. Teachers always said that he was a "Smart, intelligent young man, though very flirtatious almost to the point of oiliness."
Kennen always had this dream to become a police officer, and even though Mischa urged him to study to be a doctor, the boy held on to this. Eventually in time the parents realized that they couldn't control their son's destiny, and that unlike Ukraine, in America a Police officer was a respectable and decent position. So they switched from resistors to supporters and carriers.
However, that dream was soon to be shattered. Kennen was 16, and Kellsee 14, when one night Chicago Police stormed the family home while the Petrovs lay asleep. The fuzz rudely awoke the family and dragged them all out of bed, shining bright flashlights in their eyes. Much to their horror, cops pulled not one, not two, but five mangled bodies from the crawlspace under the house, some looking like they had been rotting there for months. Upon further inspection of the house, they also discovered human fingers in the downstairs freezer, and blood spattered across the backseat of the family Suburban. A neighbor claimed to have been seeing this "strange activity" for months but hadn't the strong suspicion to call the cops until now. Several other neighbors reported seeing the same incidents too, backing up the first story. Soon enough it seemed that the only ones who would believe the Petrovs' cries of a frame were Mischa, Stephanie, Kennen, and Kellsee.
The place became a whirlwind. Still in their pajamas, Mischa and Stephanie were whisked off to jail, and Kennen and Kellsee were sent to a juvenile rehabilitation center to be "cured of the violent narcissism that their parents had instilled in them". However, three months later, no counselor could find anything wrong with them beyond the trauma from the arrests. They all wrote them off, Kennen in particular, as having been "miraculously spared" from their parents' behavior.
The trials started promptly. All the evidence was presented, and was backed up incontrovertibly by witness reports, neighbors and "friends" that the parents nor the siblings had ever seen in their lives. No attourney would risk his reputability and defend the couple, so as the Petrovs held each other and cried, the jury found them guilty on nine counts of serious felon and sentenced Mischa and Stephanie to death by injection.
Kennen tried his best to comfort his sister and be strong through all of this strife. Exposed to press and media, his face changed from one that could display a wide range of emotions to a cold, lifeless, neutral mask. Almost nothing made him happy anymore. At school, he lost friends. They called him a freak and a murderer's kid. The ones that were still willing to trust him couldn't break his stupor and eventually gave up on a cause that seemed hopeless. Retreating into his shell, Kennen tried to isolate himself from the world and the pain it so inevitably brought with it.
Soon Mischa and Stephanie were dead (Kennen and Kellsee were in the next room when the poison went in and their hearts stopped beating), and all hope seemed lost for the two siblings.
Because the siblings were pronounced mentally healthy (though in a bit of shock) by a top-ranking psychologist, they were released to the public, and a nationwide search for a relative commenced. An aunt was found, a sister of Stephanie's, who was willing to take the orphans in. Her name was Claudia, and she was now living in Austin, Texas. She was kind and welcomed the two heartily, with a big Ukrainian meal. That first night, when Kennen went to bed, he thought happily that this was the first time he had been filled with joy since the arrests.
Kennen went back to school and started afresh. Though his GPA had taken a bit of a plunge he soon was bringing that up again, and Claudia was pleased to never have to question her nephew's grades. Again he became a favorite with teachers, and even dated a pretty Freshman girl for a while. Soon he was caught up enough to transfer into regular classes.
Then, disaster struck again. Kennen was in fifth period one day when he was called down to the office. There, again, the cops were waiting. A fifteen-year-old girl (whom Kennen had never seen in his life) jumped away the moment he walked into the room. "He's the one who raped me!" she sobbed, hiding behind a big policeman.
Kennen was arrested on false charges and put in prison. He saw the girl again at the first trial. She "always kept moaning about how she felt so violated" and put on an act that was- quite unfortunately- genuinely convincing. That didn't convince Kennen though. By now, he knew perfectly well who was behind both of these accusations. There was a group of men for the plaintiff, in particular a big black man with a wicked smile who had served as lawyer both times, that were repeats from the previous trial and had smiled cruelly as the jury had announced their decision on Mischa and Stephanie. Kennen's mind started to darken, and he got an irresistible desire to coax a box of bullets from someone and kill the conspirators where they stood. However, he couldn't. His parents' lessons and his faith were engrained too deeply inside him.
The news ran the story with headlines from "Like parents, like son?" to a snarky "They must be pretty good liars." Again the evidence was plentiful, undeniable, and planted, and there were plenty of witnesses to prove the girl's story. No one would back Kennen. Bitter and resentful, he allowed himself to become a national celebrity again and get shoved into jail.
That night he made up his mind to break or bust. Taking his sweet time in forming his natural pistol, he shed a tear as he waited for the moment they would open the slat for supper. As soon as they did, Kennen poked his gun through. His voice was as cold as ice as he ordered the guard to let him out.
When the door was finally opened, Kennen had a sniper rifle in his hand- or on his arm, more like. He walked out of there undisputed. The sad truth of the matter was that he couldn't hurt anyone even if he tried. He had no ammo on him.
That night, he stole a car from a nearby garage, and swung by their aunt's house to pick up Kellsee before disappearing into the heartland of America. On the lam, they wouldn't be seen or heard from again for three years...
While no one could track the siblings down anywhere, evidence started to pop up that perhaps everyone had made a big mistake in sentencing the Petrovs. Kennen and Kellsee had been hiding in seclusion for two and a half years when the bomb dropped on the truth of the matter. A huge, important meeting was held in Washington, DC to discuss this new evidence. Two days later, a public announcement was made. Apologies went around the legal system and tears were shed at the Petrovs' gravesides. Their coffins were moved to a better plot in Chicago, where they would not be considered criminals anymore. Millions of TV viewers were shocked senseless to hear what really happened.
The perpetrators? These turned out to be the Uubal, (again pronounced you-ball) the Ukrainian Cabal. Ruthless and power hungry, they had framed and murdered Mischa and Stephanie Petrov for the couple's vast assets, in a complicated web of bribes and concocted stories. Well, that was what the public was told, anyway, and the story 100% of the time. What no one else knew, though, was the true reason the Uubal worked so hard to get rid of the Petrovs: they wanted to experiment on Kelsee, who had developed powers of her own- control of the mythical element Dark Matter, superheated plasma of which all stars were made. They were looking into making weapons with it. How did they know of her special abilities? They had been following the Petrovs since they had come to America. The ringleader, a powered man himself, could sense mutant genes in the siblings.
One way or another, Kennen and Kellsee's names were cleared, and now, people swept the nation in hopes of telling the two they were free, instead of apprehending them and collecting the reward money.
Meanwhile, in an obscure Oklahoma county, Kennen and Kellsee had settled down comfortably, ripping the license plates off the stolen car and finding a home to live in. The little town of Orchard Grove had taken a liking to them, and everyone seemed to be hospitable (strangely, none of them had heard anything about the trials). Almost immediately Kennen got a job as a barhop and bouncer at the local bar, where he was always seeing his friends and girlfriends from the local High School as well as his older friends from around town. His job always gave him enough to put food on the table, pay for gas for the car, and let him and Kellsee have electricity, water, and heat for the house while also saving some for the future. Days turned into months, and months into a year. Kennen passed eleventh and twelfth grade, and was looking forward to a bright, beautiful future in Orchard Grove. Kennen had by now come to terms with the fact that he would never be able to go into the outside world and get a degree in criminal justice and a job working as a Policeman. It just wasn't possible; the moment he would set foot outside this town, they would arrest him. He didn't want to be separated from Kellsee ever again. So he willingly stayed put as Kellsee grew into a beautiful young woman, fifteen, just as popular as Kennen ever was and captain of the cheerleading team. She picked up a boyfriend named James. They were a good match for each other and went constantly together though many others scrambled for her.
On her sixteenth birthday, Kennen had to work. He was pretty bummed out, but luckily James was there to take her to the movies. Kennen gave Kellsee an extra thirty dollars to spend on snacks and things. He even thought that she might be able to bribe a poster out of the theatre owner.
It was a fateful night. Everyone said their adieus pretty early it seemed, and by eleven there was no one to keep the kid company except the music. Tapping his foot and glancing outside the door, he nodded as he saw the street devoid of cars.
Around one Kennen was about ready to go home. With a sigh he polished the last hand-washed scotch glass and went to put it away. As the last song ended he wandered over to the stereo and lights system and flipped them off. Then he rounded the corner of the bar— just in time to spot someone coming through the door. It was a man he had never seen before. He was tall and scruffy with a black cowboy hat and gray shirt. "Hi." Kennen said, greeting him and smiling. "How can I help you?" Though a little apprehensive about getting to know this newcomer, and hoping that he was just here to get a drink and then leave, and not reel the kid in, Kennen decided to be friendly and offered his services.
Luckily the guy didn't recognize him. He asked for a beer on tap, or if that wasn't available, for anything.
Beer on tap was one of the most popular drinks asked for, so that wasn't a problem. As it was fetched, Kennen got a chance to ask some questions. Who was this mewcomer, why was he here, and what was he doing this late at night?
Well, he said his name was Billy Unrein. He was just stopping through on his way to a bullriding competition in Iowa. He had stopped for a rest and a drink, and when asked about the late hour he cocked his eyebrow and said nothing. In return, he asked for the kid's name.
Kennen introduced himself, and explained that he was living here with his aunt. He had just graduated from High School a couple months previous, and that Unrein had come in just in time- it was going to be his little sister's birthday at twelve thirty, which was just here in a couple minutes.
Again, Kennen got the look. Glancing up at the clock again, Kennen shook his head at the hands, which did say twelve thirty, and asked why the puzzled face.
Unrein shook his head. "You're the one who must be crazy." Reaching across the counter, he touched Kennen's shoulder, and pointed to the clock. "It's only quarter to nine."
"Nuh-uh." The kid shook his head. "It clearly says...
Before his eyes, the hands and numbers swam on the clock dial, and suddenly... Everything was backwards. It did say quarter to nine.
Crying out and bolting to the outside door, Kennen was shocked to see many parked cars where there had once been empty street. His body reacted violently, throwing the remnants of his dinner up on the ground. Something left him and the rest of his brain switched on in that moment, but it wasn't until later that he realized that it was a left-lobe paralyzing spell- put on him by a local witch, many months before.
Kellsee. Just as his sister's name came to mind, there were gunshots from inside the bar. Collecting himself, Kennen bolted back inside, grabbing the bar owner's shotgun as he went. Down a hidden flight of stairs, behind a door he hadn't seen before, a gristly sight met his eyes.
There was Unrein, sitting there agape as a starry maiden hovered over him, hands full with plasma- dark matter. Kellsee. Kennen could guess what had happened. A shaman lay on the floor jist a few meters to the left of a sacrificial table. It was decorated with ancient Ukrainian runes and Uubal glyphs. Every man, woman, and child in Orchard Grove, Oklahoma were laying om the floor, moaning or dead from gunshot wounds. This whole town was a fake, a conspiracy by the same organization that had killed his parents. They must have wanted Kellsee's powers the whole time. That was their motivation behind every atrocity, and why they had made Kennen's life a living hell, devoid of any hope for a normal life, for eight years. They had thought that her sixteenth birthday was the perfect time to pull them from her. They would have succeeded, too, if it wasn't for Billy Unrein. When he had pulled the plug on the controlling spell the Uubal had cast, Kellsee had come unglued and was about to kill him.
Speaking of Unrein... It was then that Kennen also saw the older man's FBI badge. Kellsee was going in for the kill. Carefully aiming the shotgun, three seconds was all that was needed to send shot ripping through her skull, a beautiful round hole. She staggered back, in shock, her starry eyes wide open.
Unrein turned around to ask him why the heck he had killed his sister, but Kennen cut him off before he even had a chance to start.
As the two watched, the shot pushed out of Kellsee's head, and the power faded. Rubbing her temples, she sat up and returned to her natural color. "Kennen? What happened?" she asked, and glanced in horror at the bodies as it all came back.
Needless to say, Unrein told them all about how their names had been cleared six months ago, and the two returned with him to Washington, DC where they were given a warm welcome. It was like the prodigal son's return: parties were held in which the Petrovs' strength and courage in holding on to what they believed in were honored, and gifts were delivered from old friends and fans. Kennen and Kellsee bought a house and Kennen easily found a job again, but in the heart of friendly NYC now and as a Police Officer. Kennen has worked hard to be competent and hide his innate powers, unless it was absolutely necessary to reveal that side of him.
It has been a year since the Uubal's town was destroyed, and the siblings are happy.
The crystal's effects on the two? Well, it gave Kennen quite a shock when he woke up in a pink, frilly, lacy bed one morning. Now that the world is dangerous and crime takes place all around (even though the heroes are everywhere too, the NYPD has been swamped with calls constantly, and Kennen is always on duty), the kid has been considering moving his little sister, seventeen, to a place where she can use her powers effectively.
And this is where he stands today.
PS. On a side note, Kennen's nickname of KO was given by his SWAT boss, when in a rare fit of anger, Kennen punched the daylights out of a bully senior officer. It has stuck ever since. (3582)
"Next time guys, we should just
rebuild this place outta Lego."
rebuild this place outta Lego."
Writing Sample: ((Okay. Background. I wrote this for another superhero site and as the writing sample for another character's app. All my (horribly long) samples on that site were done in order to lead up to me introducing Kennen and Kellsee Petrov (I was going to open her to another player) as my main OC characters. Unfortunately, the site died just as I was going to submit Kennen's app, so my Kennen muse was kind of left unused. The idea of introducing him on this site has really grown on me. Kennen is basically my ultimate hero; he has his limits and weaknesses, the most prominent being that his power only works if he has ammo on him, yet can kick ass like no one else can.
The sample below is very off from the alternate origin I have used above, but chronologically, in the Petrov siblings' lives, it is the same up to this incident, and nevertheless still gives one a good background on Kennen and Kellsee. To make this more applicable to this site, replace Jack Monroe with Bill Unrein, Skrull with Uubal, and delete all of the WWE references.))
The fight last night had gone well, he had been set up to win and had, but Jack Monroe still felt like he was failing, at life, at everything. As he pulled into a little town, the one thing on his mind was that hopefully there was a tavern at this place. What he needed right now was a beer, on the tap.
There were hundreds of cars lining the street, and the lot had only one parking space left. Has the whole town turned out for tonight? As he thought about it, It did occur to Jack that it had seemed as if no one had been home at every house he had passed. All the windows were dark and the porch lights turned off. It was only eight o' clock at night... at least someone should be staying up late. What was so important here at the pub that everyone, and everyone, would come here? Maybe it was good beer. But Jack had another feeling that he couldn't supress. He tried to calm it as he took the parking space and stepped out in the pouring rain. His trenchcoat kept most of the rain out, and he nervously fingered one of his ricochet disks.
The music was bumping and the strobe lights were on, but the people were nowhere to be found. The place seemed to be deserted. Jack's heart sank and his warning worms, the extrasensory perception in his stomach, squirmed ferociously. Not a living soul. If no one was here, then where were all the missing people? Jack got his shotgun out and loaded it slowly as ever so quietly he stepped through the bar, past the counter, to a door slightly ajar on the other side of the room.
Suddenly, the music and lights ceased, and the only thing left was a soft light from lesser lights in the bar. It was a welcome reprieve from the loud echo of dance music. However, now Jack's footsteps weren't covered up as easily.
So there was someone here. A young man, a little under Jack's six foot three stature, wandered out from another back door. His face was fair, and one could tell just by looking at him that he was strong and capable. Probably he was one of the more-liked boys in town. His black hair probably added to that appeal. It fell over one eye and gave him a roguish look. This was such a little town, Jack assumed that he probably acted as a bouncer and a security guard, kicking rowdy patrons out to the street. However, right now he was playing the role of bartender. He was wearing a tender's apron and polishing a crystal shot glass, which he stuck on a shelf. He sighed to himself, and muttered something about packing up and leaving for home.
Jack cleared his throat, and the kid spun. For a moment Jack caught sight of two scared brown eyes. But then they cooled to a calm manner. "Hi, sir, how can I help you?" he came to the bar and leaned on it. "What do you want to drink? Ask, and I can probably get it for you."
"You have any beer on tap? If not anything will do." Jack took a seat on a nearby barstool and relaxed. Luckily the kid hadn't noticed the rifle, and Jack slipped it quietly into his coat again.
The kid nodded, and turned around to get a round. He filled the clear tanker and slid it across the bar to Jack. "What brings you out here so late at night? Just passing through?"
So late at night? Jack was a bit confused, yet he knew that the kid might be, too. It was easy to lose track of time here in a bar. Time seemed to pass so quickly when one was working. "Yeah, passing through on my way to Des Moines for a WWE fight." Jack caught the beer and took a swig.
The kid's eyes lit up, and Jack could tell that he was excited, though he tried to contain his curiosity and joy. He came over to his guest and leaned on the bar again. "I thought you looked familiar. You're Powerhouse Monroe."
"Yup, that's what they call me."
"Do you ever listen to what the commentors say? You're a favorite for winning the belt this year."
"I've heard that before from other fans. I always say that you'd never know. Do you watch wrestling often?" Another swig.
"Yeah." The kid nodded vigorously. "Both me and my little sister think you're the best wrestler on the circuit. We love your battle cry, the sliding yell."
Jack had to supress an urge to rub his throat. He loved his war whoop however it hurt his voice a lot. "Thanks. I'll be thinkin' about you when I next step in the ring. Maybe I'll even do something special. Hey, by the way, I don't think I ever got your name."
Jack could see the teenager swoon a little, but the kid realized quickly that he was fangirling a little too much. Toughening up and planting his feet firmly, he extended a hand to shake. "Kennen Petrov. Nice to meet you."
Jack shook without hesitation. "So you live and work here in this little town? I first thought that you would be better suited for the big city." Jack took a swig of beer again. One or two more left. Then he would ask Kennen where everyone had run off to.
"I used to be a city slicker. A perfectly happy one, too. I love it there. Then my mom and dad got arrested and we were thrown into a whirlwind of turmoil. They accused my mom and dad of murder. They would never have done that, and we knew it. But they presented evidence to prove that they had. It was all faked. All my twelve-year old sister could do during the trial was cry on my shoulder. I tried to be strong, I tried to not cry, for her, but inside I was dying of sadness. What would happen to us? I could take care of her myself, I remember thinking. We could run away without being noticed. Nobody cared about us anyway."
Jack took this all in quietly. The kid's word came out in torrents. One could tell that he was almost eager to tell it. He paused every so often, as if to wait in anticipation for Jack to tell him to stop. But he always continued when the WWE wrestler said nothing.
Kennen's words took Jackson Monroe back to a musty courtroom, filled with people. In sunglasses and a business suit, he was watching the proceedings. Pictures of a gruesome, gristly murder flashed across the screen. A man talked about how the evidence was found in the accused's home and what it was. Among some of the evidence was severed fingers, found frozen in the freezer; a picture of the inside of a car stained with red; a bloody knife. On one side, the accusers sat straight and tall, confident that they had this one in the bag. One certain, burly black man especially seemed pleased. On the other side, the defense held each other and cried. Two sets of Male and Female- Husband and Wife. Brother and Sister.
Yes, this was the Petrov trial. He had been there. SHIELD had known that the couple was innocent but was more focussed on taking down the corrupt ring that was staging everything and framing the middle-class family. The big black man had really committed the crime. It was the singular event that made Jack start to think about leaving SHIELD.
"Mum and dad were sentenced to the electric chair soon after, and the court sent me and my sister to an aunt we didn't know we had. But she acted and looked a lot like mom. A really nice woman, she loved us like her own, and we thought that the worst was over. We even started to get over the pain the trial had caused us.
"But boy, we were wrong. We had just become comfortable in our new home when the authorities came after us, and it was then that the whole mess became huge. They managed to drag me to jail, and my sister stayed with my aunt. This time, the crime was rape. Again, the death penalty was on my head.
"The girl who was "raped" I knew was a faker. She was blonde, pretty, attractive, and always moaned about how she felt so violated. I knew that I had done nothing wrong. A man I had noticed at my parents' trial was there again. A big, burly guy. I couldn't help but think that this was the guy who had ruined our life.
"Somehow, I broke out of jail and managed to steal a car. I picked up my sister, and we went on the run. So now here I am today. I'm content and happy again. I have a great job here, and my sister and I live in a house on the outskirts of town. Everyone in the community is really nice; they like us a lot. My little sister even has a boyfriend named James. He's cool, and I think he respects her as much as I love her, which is a lot. It's been three years, and we've been protected all this time from the outside world."
"Whoa. Whoa." Jack slammed the last of the beer. "You've been protected?"
"Yeah. From the authorities. Last I heard, they were still on a manhunt for us, correctamundo?"
"No." Jack shook his head. "They cleared your names, and your parents', two and a half years ago."
"What?" Kennen stumbled back. "But, I saw on the news yesterday, a reporter talking about the fact that they had tracked us to Kansas."
"How old are you and your sister?" Jack blurted, his heart starting to race.
"Erm... I'm twenty-three, and she turns sixteen today... Actually, at one in the morning, that should be in about... Three minutes."
Jack looked at the clock. It said three to nine. "Kid, you must be crazy. It's three hours from starting a new day."
"No! The clock clearly says three to one! I was about to leave for home, to see if my sister got back alright from the movies!"
"With James?" Jack began to panic. "Kid, where is everyone in town?"
"Sleeping, of course! The last one left the bar an hour ago! I checked outside, and there are no more cars except mine."
"No, they're not at home. They're still here!" Goddamn it, the whole town has enchanted Kennen into thinking something that isn't true! That is, if he isn't in on the conspiracy himself! "Kid, you need to wake up!" With a lithe leap Jack cleared the bar and grabbed Kennen by the arm. He drug the black-haired kid out of the bar.
"I don't see anything-" It took Kennen a second, but all at once, his eyes widened and his gag reflex began to work. Jack could tell that he saw the truth- all the cars parked along the walk. The spell had been broken by Jack's lingering touch- someone that didn't want the kid to be affected. It was a weak spell, but nevertheless effective. Now Kennen was going into shock.
That was the mark of Skrull!
Jack's next thought was the partially-open door back in the bar. Spinning, he bolted back into the pub. Behind him, the sound of Kennen puking was prominent.
Pulling his shotgun out again, Jack pushed open the door to a basement. Chanting and babbling came from down there. He bolted down the stairs, coming to rest on a cold stone floor, facing the backs of about two hundred Skrulls, on their knees in prayer. The room was barely big enough to hold them all, and there was only one way out other than the stairs. Good. That should keep them from getting out. In the middle of the room stood an ancient, gray-bearded Skrull that had his knobby hands raised to the sky. He was drawing an eerie dark purple light out of a girl laying naked on a table in front of him. She had long brown hair and was very beautiful. She reminded Jack of the crying woman in the courtroom. This had to be Kennen's sister. Whatever they were doing to her, it couldn't be good. It was time to end the madness. The clack-clack of Jack's gun could be heard above the worshippers' hum. Then, without a word, a green-skinned alien fell to the floor, a bullet through the back of his head. All in the room gave a collective gasp and rose as one to meet their attacker. Jack aimed again and fired at the closest one at hand. Then they were on him. Jack plunged in fighting. Elbows, knees, fists, everything. No mercy. His only thought was of the girl laying helpless on the table just a few meters from where he stood.
Somehow, in all the commotion, Jack managed to get a good shot of the shaman. A perfect bullet in between the eyes.
The girl gasped, and her eyes opened. She reached out to touch the glowing orb of matter in front of her. Her starry eyes reflected the night sky perfectly, every twinkling body.
Another break in the endless wave of Skrull. Jack watched in disbelief as the girl slid off the table, and the orb settled in her hand. It ensheathed her body, in a metallic purple substance, and wreathed her head in a halo of stars. Reaching her hand out to Jack, her eyes narrowed hatefully and more of the Dark Matter formed in her hand. Jack was convinced that it was Dark Matter, the hottest plasma in existence, what stars were made of.
Jack was frozen. The scene in front of him was so strikingly beautiful, yet at the same time so terrible.
The Nomad didn't notice it when another lifeform came down the stairs behind him. The girl turned her attention to the newcomer, but not for long. Suddenly a hole appeared in between her eyes, and with a shocked look on her face she crumpled to the floor.
Jack turned to see no one less than Kennen Petrov. He opened his mouth in incredulation, but the kid stilled him. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing, though it's been a year since an incident."
As the girl's power faded, the bullet got pushed out and the wound healed over.
"Ugh..." The girl struggled to her feet and pressed her hands to her temples. "Kennen...?" She looked up and saw her brother. Her whole face lit up and she clapped her hands together with joy. "Oh, Brother, I was so scared! James knocked me out and..." She began to cry.
"Shhh, Shhh... Kellsee, it'll be alright." Kennen held her, his eyes close to tearing up.
"Now, I need you to rest well. And in the morning, when you leave, go to this address in Topeka." Jack pulled a business card out of his pocket and jotted down the location of a SHIELD base. "Tell them that I referred you, and that you need some help. Fury may be mad at my leaving but he doesn't distrust my judgement. It will be given to you."
The business card changed hands. "I don't know how I could ever repay you." Kennen had an arm around his sister's shoulder and was beaming happily.
"Yes, thank you Mr. Monroe." Kellsee, a sweet young woman, echoed.
The last thing Jack saw as he drove into the night was an eerie purple light and two smiling teenagers, waving at him. (2635)
"I'm through talking, get out of my cave,"
Your name/alias: Bry !
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