Member No.: 57
Joined: 29-August 08
Name: Edward (Eddie) Beck
Race/Type/Job? Human, Detective, Narcotics Division, Undercover Operations
Affiliation: Clean Cop
One word: Bachelor.. well, maybe add a dash of fraternity boy. His past is filled with rendezvous with cheerleaders and a different conquest every night of the week. Since beginning police work, however, this has been toned down, if only slightly. Eddie spends the normal nights at clubs and bars, but full time work and dedication to being the knight-in-shining can put a damper on the party boy attitude.
Eddie is the consummate over confident smart ass. That isn’t to say that he can’t readily make friends. Charismatic is only a slight understatement. In day to day situations he is quick to smile and has an easy going laugh. His sense of humor is dry, sarcastic and sometimes a bit self depreciating and can be endearing to those that work closely with him, but has historically had quite the opposite effect to those in authority positions over him. All in all, he is a good natured, if sarcastic man.
That cynical and sometimes off key sense of humor can make him ‘the life of the party.’ Oh, did I say party? If there is one and he knows about it he will be there. Well, assuming that there isn’t work early the next day.. or he’s working late on a case.. well damnit all to hell! In college at USC, he was the vice president of his fraternity and lived a party for all five years of undergrad. That being said, he just has that no-holds barred, confident take on pursuing those of the opposite sex. Until arriving at his current station in life, playing games and cat and mouse just didn’t have the payoff that being bold and forward.
This overconfidence and humor comes into play when he is deflecting the tension of a dangerous situation as well. It is this sense of invincibility that can get him into trouble. Eddie is the first to take the brunt of another’s focus and anger and seems to revel in the risk and adrenaline that is the result. He is quite at home staring down the barrel of a gun with a laugh and a smart assed remark. This will not be as endearing when luck finally figures out that he’s prone to this kind of stupid behavior and decides to do something about it.
On the other hand, there is a dark and focused side to Detective Beck. This is especially apparent when those that are close to him are put in direct danger. Jaw locks, muscles harden and he becomes a very different man. It is a hard edge of merciless action to either drive that threat away or gather it to himself. When accompanied by his over confidence, this can and often will result in injuries to himself and further danger to others. If somebody close to Eddie is hurt he is virtually always taking the brunt of blame and grief.
Avatar: Ryan Reynolds
Height: 6 feet even
Build: Muscular, Athletic, but not obsessively so.
Hair: Fairly short, but messily styled and a well trimmed beard, all brown.
Other: A few random scars from falling from the bar at his frat house back in the day and a barcode tattoo on the muscle of his right shoulder.
Although, on rare occasion, Detective Beck can be found in your standard suit and tie, his position undercover demands much more casual attire. Jeans are a must and the more tattered the better. That’s not to say Ed’s ass hangs out, but if you can’t glimpse knee through threads then they haven’t seen enough years. The assortment of faded t-shirts and “wife beater” (hate the damn term) tank tops usually fit the bill for the upper body. This goes right down to the black, combat style boots. To top it all off he carries himself in black or brown leather riding jackets. When necessary, there is a shoulder holster there and the bright shine of a badge on a thin chain hanging about his neck.
Equipment & Skills:
The only weapon that Eddie carries is a boxy, black Glock 22 .45 caliber. (A standard issue firearm for which he has shown excellent proficiency in qualifications) Other weapons come with the environment.
Eddie’s brawling inspired fighting has been honed through defensive tactics training during academy and has been further focused by casual practice in various martial arts. However, he is a dirty, down to grit fighter and you won’t see smooth acrobatics out of him. It’s all grappling and a hard fist or elbow.
He also has the variety of skills picked up during his training (evasive driving, police tactics, interrogation, stakeout, defensive tactics, firearm proficiency, etc.)
“Me? You want to know about me? Well that’s going to cost you at least…well one glass of cheap scotch on the rocks.”
“Once upon a time I was born in the city of ferries. That’s right, San Francisco. Hey, don’t look at me like that, I was talking boats. Anyway, my father is a member of the city council and my mother is a nurse and I was really supposed to be some sort of golden child. None of my aunts or uncles were able to conceive, so of course I got all the good stuff. Lots of presents…. Ok.. enough of that.”
“During high school of was all about being the jock. I was even the starting shortstop on the baseball team and a backup quarterback. You know, all Biff Loman style. Everybody thought I was going somewhere and with my ….decent…. grades I did. The University of Southern California to be exact. Yes, I was a Trojan and damn proud of it. You should see the tattoo on my left ass cheek.”
“My parents weren’t too thrilled, them going to UCLA, but I was more than happy. I don’t think a week of school had passed before I joined my fraternity, Pikes, and was well on my way to wasting thousands of dollars. Well not so much wasting as misappropriating. It takes dedication and time to build up that kind of alcohol tolerance.”
“What? You don’t think English is a real major? Well neither did I. Most of my time was spent turning my life into a rehash of the movie animal house. Which guy was I? I would like to think I qualify as Otter, but I was probably a bit more like Bluto. Girls? Oh man, I could tell you stories. I mean, I never fell in love.. wait, hold that thought.. there was Jill. And Ashely.. oh.. and Katie.. cheerleader and gymnast. But then again when you spend so much of your time in a drunken haze some of it really blurs together.”
“Five years later I left with a degree and no real direction. Applying with the police was just something on a whim. Of course nobody thought I would stick with it, but here I am. Sitting here getting strangers to buy me drinks. I’d say that I was a standout, expressed in much less kind words by my instructors, at the academy. But they didn’t fail me and with my smart ass, even earmarked me to do some undercover work when I got out. I didn’t stay on patrol too long, I had a habit of making the wrong remark to the wrong person at the wrong time.”
“Fortunately, somebody thought they could put my particular skills to use so they took away my uniform and told me to go find the source feeding this damn city. That came with a fat raise and a permanent “Hawaiian Shirt” dress code. I really should take advantage of that more often.”
“Now, give us a couple of Irish Car Bombs…. To us and this town, may we dirty it but may it never dirty us. Cheers!”
(This is from a, perhaps ill conceived, attempt at a character for a superhero style RPG. The character is in the process of breaking out of a research facility using him to develop weapons.)
His eyes opened into the hazy light that filtered into the clear water in which Matt Sheehan hung suspended. Tubes wrapped about his nude waste and probed into skin at several points at the upperbody. The meta-human too in a breath through the slick, black regulator that fed him air sent a spray of bubbles upwards into the metal mesh covered tube. As he struggled to recognize the faces topping the white lab coats through the bent glass, Matt could already feel the warmth of the chemical compliance that they were pumping into his veins. The erratic excitement of his heartbeat almost immediately slowed and steadied as muscles across his body smoothed and eased as those atoms and particles bonded and found the receptors in his brain.
Just before the eyes fluttered closed he saw somebody set in front of the window, leaning in to peer at his naked form before jotting something down on a clipboard and walking away. Matt Sheehan knew that he would answer to every call and command they made, despite the scream that echoed silently out of his chest. They couldn’t control him like this.. they couldn’t just simply take his life.. but they did and they had…
There was no telling how much later it was when he woke up, strapped down against the thin, sterile metal table. The blue eyes blinked once and twice against the light and he could hear the voices entering the fog around him. Mind fought the drug induced binds that webbed over his body.
Matt could feel the weight of the suit on his body, the one they would force him to test only a few feet away. A thin layer of a tight, black, fire resistant material clung to every inch of his is body and muscle from neck to fingers and toes. Over that shined the slick metal of tubes that twisted about in smooth links to connect to what looked like a belt, elbow pads, knee pads, and violent looking silver gauntlets encasing his hands.
Several forms bent over him and he could feel the table tip upwards until his body was standing. Two of the men behind him wheeled the meta-human through the two doors and into another white walled hallway. While Matt’s mind raced against the effect of the drugs somehow he knew that, despite the daily routine, something was different. What he felt was that one syringe, still full of that magical drug that kept him so compliant, lying unused on the steel table in the room behind them.
As each moment passed the meta-human began to feel that fog clear and his muscles wake from the numb and behind to respond to his commands and not others. As they met the end of the hallway Matt’s head swung to the side and he gave out a long breath. He could hear one of the men attending him curse and scramble backwards as the arm flexed hard against the binds. They tore smoothly, ripping away and even bending the metal of the bed before falling down.
It seemed like a dream as his feet hit the floor with a metal clank. One of the men had fallen in a bid to escape. Matt walked over and reached down, lifting the wide eyes up even to his and speaking one sentence to the man dangling before him… “Turn it on.. NOW!”
The staffer reached around with a trembling arm and slapped at the metal square at his back. There was a soft whine and Matt fell to his knees, dropping the other man as he let out a searing cry of pain. Thin metal probed into skin at those metal joints and buried themselves down deep against where the power could be tapped.
When he finally willed down those nerves Matt stood slowly upright in the red lights that flashed through the room amidst the wail of a siren. The hot power surged down the tubes into his hands and he turned as several security officials filled the end of the hallway. Matt Sheehan, meta-human, turned slowly and brought up his palms...
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"a hero is no braver that an ordinary man, but he is
brave five minutes longer."-Ralph Waldo Emerson