Kael Sutherland has a minion!

Freedom the Veegle

Details | Art | People | Treasure Chest

It was dark.. and loud. Warning lights flashed, and sirens blared over the struggle within the walls of my mind, as I fought for control over my grip on reality. Between the pain (which radiated through every last nerve ending), the inconsistent lighting, the blood loss, and my blurry, shaky vision, the lightheaded feeling was only made worse by the ringing in my ears. I ran without any real sense of direction, sick and scared, shaken, asphyxiated... I couldn't have cared less about first-degree burns on my hands and arms that stung like the a thousand needles, the bruised and most likely fractured rib in my chest, or the blood dripping from my ears- those wounds would heal in time. But this... this would never heal. The fact that I was so close to getting out of there alive didn't even matter to me, the only thing on my mind in that moment was Emma, and that mixed look of fear, uncertainty, and disbelief that I had only seen out of her once before in my life.

About five minutes before, she had fallen behind, unable to go on in the state that her body was in. Since the beginning of our captivity, they had perpetuated her weakness by pumping drugs into her system to keep her docile, keep her "calm" and weak, so she couldn't fight back. She had struggled valiantly, but in the end, it was her body that gave out instead of mine (why couldn't it have been mine..?). The moment she fell to her knees, her limbs went limp, almost as if someone had "turned her off". But the look on her face... she could have ripped out my still beating heart and I would have hardly noticed, because that look had already killed me. But there was nothing I could have done; there were far too many to fight off, and I just didn't have the strength to carry her, not in the condition I was in. If I hadn't made a decision, we really wouldn't have had a chance in hell. She screamed my name.. Cairo.. every muscle in my body strained against the instinct to run to her, as I tore my gaze at the seams, and pressed forward.

The War between my head and my heart raged, screamed at me, echoed her voice.. the further I got, the louder, more intense, the pain became. While breathing heavily, I swung back into the shadow of the room I'd been hiding in, and slumped back against the cold metal cabinet with a grimace and a quiet groan, and tried to pull myself together. The idea was to get out together... not alone. Matthews had warned me about how unlikely it was that we would both escape.. and although "busting us out" was his idea to begin with, he hadn't forgotten to thoroughly explain our options to us, and let us weigh the repercussions, should any of those strategies fail. We'd concluded that since I was the most likely to get out successfully, if Plan-A failed I was to follow Robby's directions to a safe-house once above ground, then meet him somewhere where we could discuss my options from there. And well, Plan-C was the least appealing of the three- do nothing, become their cadavers, be forced to do things I didn’t want to do... and never have a chance at making things "right" again. For me, this wasn't even an option. And while I'd've rather died than leave Emma behind, I knew what giving up now meant for the both of us. If they got their hands on me this time, they’d find a way to make sure I never escaped again.

As I considered all of this, I sighed, closed my eyes for a few moments, and let the noise fill my mind... this was too much to take in right now. All of a week had passed since we’d left home, thinking Earth would have lent us some sort of refuge from the aftermath of.. of...
What the hell happened...?
What had even caused the collapse of our Utopia..? One day, everything was fine, the next.. everything I cared about was drenched in red, consumed by fire... the Great House of Kaouranos- Fallen. She and I were the only ones left. And here we were, faced with captivity, slavery...
No Future.
The sound of footsteps stopping outside of the room tore me from my thoughts. Had they found me? I opened my eyes narrowly and leaned forward to peer out the window around the corner; bright as they were, and as angry and scared as I was in that moment, they burned brightly through the dark. Thankfully, they hadn't noticed yet. There were six- no, seven now... three guarding the door I was trying to get to, three standing around a Senior Field Agent, who was giving orders. Three more soldiers ran by, carrying guns and handheld fire extinguishers. They'd be closing in on me any second, and all I had left was a pistol with a single clip. I heaved a heavy sigh and whimpered quietly as I slumped back against the wall in exasperation, the 45 pistol gripped tightly in both hands.. then the metal behind me started to groan. I hadn't realized how warm all this was making me until the cabinet caved around my body, and I slipped. I grimaced during the fall as my hand smacked (in attempt to catch myself) a metal tray on a mobile cart, which let out a loud clang as scalpels, syringes, and other medical tools were dislodged.
Shit.
The noise drew their attention faster than I could comprehend- every head in the vicinity whipped around toward the surgical room, and noticed right away the golden, burning light source in the window. I froze for what seemed like minutes as I felt the burning of red-dot lasers cluttering my chest, but before I knew what was happening, bullets and broken glass were pouring in through the window, and I was sinking for cover. As I sat there and shielded myself from the fray with the jacket Robby had given me, I scanned the room as best I could with jagged, panicked sweeps that matched my breathing pattern. There had to have been something in there that could work to my benefit, but the stress was working against me. I had to get out of there, had to focus...
Then, after retracing one corner a few times, amidst my frantic searching, I noticed a large canister in one of the refrigeration units. I had no idea what was in it, but it was worth a shot. With every ounce of adrenaline-induced strength within me, I bolted for the corner, threw open the door and grabbed the canister, then, with my head down and my body shielding the object, made a mad dash back to cover. Breathing heavily, scared as hell, I nervously rolled it over in my lap to read the contents: Oxygen, Refrigerated Liquid, U.S.P. Oxygen, oxygen... that was the name they'd put on breathable air, right? But that's not flammable. I kept reading nonetheless. "Vigorously accelerates Combustion. Now we're getting somewhere," I mumbled to myself before reading the last line. Combustibles in contact with liquid oxygen.. may explode on ignition or impact. As much as I didn't want to have to pull another "Hail-Mary", since the last one had left me with extensive burns on my arms and a bleeding head, I didn't have much of a choice. It would work, but I'd be paying for it. Now all I needed was one spark, and an opening...

The bullet storm stopped after half a minute, and I heard the shuffling of feet in the hall and whispering of voices, but before they could get too close, I turned the nozzle to get a stream going, then stood and hurled the object right at them. Their initial reaction was to take aim, but by the time they realized what was going on, it was already too late.
The burst of the shot rang out, and I watched nervously as the burning bullet followed its trajectory through the stream and made contact with the nozzle head- as soon as I saw the spark, I used the stream to fuel the fire as it was summoned, and chain an explosion inside the tank. Fire and shrapnel poured down the hall and through the window-frame, and I hit the ground hard on one shoulder. I remember thinking to myself that Liquid Oxygen was far more combustible than its gaseous substance already was, and made a mental note to be more careful if I tried that again... but the way was clear, and I had given myself a very small window to escape. The blurry vision had returned, and all was quiet for more than a minute, while I fought to recover from having a bomb go off next to my head. I tried to stand, disoriented from the both the heat and the shock- my knees shook, and my feet slipped under me while my hands grasped uneasily at the window frame. The shattered glass tore at my palms, which were the least of my problems at the moment, and I blinked heavily from the heat of the fires burning inside the room. My head was bleeding something bad, and the ringing was back, but I couldn't give up. Not when I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
With one last push, I forced a weak grip on the door handle (which burned to the touch), turned it and stumbled out of the room, toward the exit, just before several smaller explosions went off in the room behind me. I could barely make out that they were relaying my location over the intercom as I increased my pace, which was still a medium hobble; I stepped over the bodies of soldiers who were either dead or half-dead (I wasn't paying too much attention)... then three steps, two... one... My mind raced back to Emma as I grasped one of the rods on the steel door, and every muscle in my arms, every ounce of logic in my mind, every instinct that I had, resisted me. This couldn't be right, there had to be another way.. No, there is no other way. You have to go NOW. The pain in my shoulder radiated into my neck and into the back of my head as I strained to crank the wheel: tears streamed down my cheeks, and I groaned loudly as I leaned into the door with all of my weight, pressing my forehead against the cool metal. The sirens were blaring again, but I could barely hear them over my focus on the imminent end of this fight. I was starting to hear voices and footsteps again, and they were closing in fast. "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..." I repeated over and over apologetically to open air, hoping the words would somehow reach her ears and that she would understand. The hinges let out a cry with me as I stumbled out into the blinding morning light, and I kicked frantically at the door to get it shut; I heard the door lock securely behind me the second it closed. Matthews had held up his end after all, I was safe for the time being. I let out the breath I had been holding and let the cool air lull me into a false sense of security as I attempted to calm my racing mind, and recall what I was supposed to do next.

I heard police sirens, far off enough at the moment, and adjusted to the sounds of the city around me- the hum of running cars, horns here and there, the patter of soles on the sidewalk, and the mumblings of men, women, and teens on their cellular phones, all made what had just happened seem so far away... if only the pain hadn't been reminding me that it was real enough. My fingers scraped at the floor of the alley I was laying in as I pressed myself up onto my elbows and lifted my head- that was the first time that I beheld the streets of the District of Columbia.

Time Period: Present
Genre: Conspiracy | Science Fiction
RP status: Open- be aware, violent personality

True Name / Name / Nick: Cairo Kaouranos / Kael Sutherland / "Dice"
Nationality / Language(s): Unknown; "American Mutt" / English, Russian, German, Arabic / Kurdish
Age / Birthday / Sign: Earth Calendar: 32 yrs. ; "Home" Calendar: 24 revolutions ; "Total Age": About 27 years old ; Declared Age: 30 yrs. / October 30th (Earth Calendar) / Scorpio
Height / Weight: 6'5" / 285 lbs. (including cybernetic implants)
Species: Extraterrestrial / Half-human
Powers: Pyrokinesis, "Superhuman Strength"
Eyes: Deep, rusted orange, brown around the rims and pupils
Hair: Deep natural red- looks brown in the shade, copper in the sunlight
Skin: Tanned, Olive-toned
Build: Tall and slim, above-average build with thick muscle build
Scars: a long, thin burn scar, running from under his right armpit, over his right shoulder near the base of his neck, and around the back of his neck; has a medium-sized scar down the front of his right pectoral, an incision from old surgery; countless gunshot wounds, some on top of each other; a very large burn scar on his back and right shoulder, slightly concave in nature; miscellaneous burn scars on hands and forearms
Health concerns: suffers from an undiagnosed Autoimmune system disorder- at risk for Lupus; suffers from chronic respiratory problems exacerbated by a chain-smoking habit
Tattoos / Piercings: All listed are post USMC: Caduceus on his right breast, slightly off-center, more towards the middle of his chest, somewhat covering a large scar; half sleeve on his left arm and shoulder; "Semper Fidelis" on the sensitive side of his forearms / All listed are post USMC: two piercings in the back of his neck, two barbell rods in either eyebrow, and a spiked stud through his lip in the fold of his chin
Wardrobe: Always wearing his dog-tags; most often wearing a pair of long, sagged cargo shorts (black, beige, olive green, or brown) and various ribbed tank tops (white, black, olive green, tan); wears the same pair of combat boots he's worn for the last ten years every day; occasionally trades out his shorts for jeans or cargo pants, has a few jackets but rarely needs them; really doesn't change his style unless the job requires it

Orientation / Status: Demisexual / It's complicated...
Love: Andy
Parents: Mother- Avaleigh (deceased), Father- Jack (alive)
Family: 3 sisters, 1 brother: Emma (alive), Rowae (lost), Naylia (deceased), Tressi (deceased)
Friends: Storm, Andy, Some days Reise, Tony, Robby, Sienna, Maxwell, David
Occupation: Former MARSOC Marine (dishonorably discharged), Intelligence (CIA)- Weapons R&D; freelancer and a gunsmith in his spare time
Location: Coopersburg, PA (last known)

Vice: Wrath
Virtue: Self-sacrifice, Steadfastness
Strong Points: EXTREMELY philosophical, good listener, logical. Befriend him, and he can be very good company.
Faults: Stubborn, refuses to admit when he's done something wrong, and therefore refuses to make it right; violent- will kill for no apparent reason when he is in a foul mood; vengeful- does not let go of grudges until he has his revenge; closed-off- refuses to admit when something is bothering him and becomes violent if one were to push too hard for him to talk about it
Religion: Agnostic
Quirks: Has a split personality and often argues with two distinctive "voices" in his head; Secretly a mamma's boy; is a softie for his sister and would give anything for her; is an extremely talented violinist- plays to calm himself, often getting “lost in the music”; is a chain smoker when he’s stressed; also keeps journals (the idea also was given to him by Robby), though they are full of his deepest, darkest thoughts, (the places no one in their right mind would want to visit) and his emotional rants about his former partner-slash-love interest Andy; possesses the ability to manipulate / create fire, though every time he uses this ability it kills him a little more (he burns from the inside out; his half-human body cannot handle the stress)
Traits: secretive, organized, clean, rarely worries, solitary, impulsively violent, antisocial, prefers organized to unpredictable, prudent, observer, tough, self reliant, introverted, reclusive, perfectionist, logical, manipulative, cunning, controlling, hard working, confident, resolute, solitary, does not make friends easily, finisher, does not like to stand out but does anyway, very practical, intellectual, unsympathetic, apathetic, brutally honest
Likes: Murder, Torture, His Job, Smoking, Weapons, Finding out how things work by taking them apart, Designing and Building things, Explosives, classical music, Heavy metal, pain for pleasure, the violin, cello, and most other wood instruments, science, math, politics, keeping journals
Dislikes: Overly-happy people, Daylight, Bossy people, Being Shot, Stupid people, Bright colors, Religious nuts, Having people tell him smoking is bad for his health, People who tell him to stop cursing, Nosy people, People in General, Just about anything really

Name: Andrea Parker
Relationship: Former Partner / Love Interest
This woman is the bane of my existence, plain and simple.. you don't believe me? Ask her, I'm sure she'd say the same about me.
Alright, so Andrea is a little bit more to me than a woman with an aggressive outer shell and the mouth of a sailor.. back in my days of MARSOC she was one of the only things keeping me focused and alive. Although I have to say, as glad as I am now to have her back in my life, I was a bit panicked when I found out she wasn't dead like I remembered... I knew she was gonna be pretty pissed, and if there was any one woman who could beat the living hell out of me, it's Andy.
We met about eight years ago... and even though we hadn't really spoken in close to three, I could still read her like a book. The first time we met was during MARSOC- we were paired off for training, and I was the lucky asshole who got the pleasure of working with the Corporal. It.. it was a long first month and a half, but after being yelled at and disciplined by Staff Sergeant a few too many times to count, we forced ourselves to tolerate each other for the sake of getting through the program.
We started to get to know each other during the six months that followed, and actually got along really well during the year and a half long deployment period that interrupted our training.. and well, that was around the time I started to realize certain-... "feelings" that I had for her. Of course, I never told her; not only is romance between soldiers of different rank considered "fraternization", I wasn't entirely sure how to handle myself. I'd never been with a woman, and when my kind get into a relationship, we're in it for life. And Andy was... well... she didn't seem at all interested in me. So while I kept on journaling, kept on trying to break her down and understand her in her complexity, I made myself a promise that I would never tell her how I felt, for both our sakes.
The war was terrifying and chaotic; when we came back we had a completely different outlook on life. Our company had been reduced to about a third of what it had been when we had started training, and those of us that had actually made it back alive weren't exactly counting our blessings. So many men we knew and trusted were gone and we were expected to just move on, even after notifying the next of kin. Eight months later, Graduation Day rolled around, and something really really strange happened.
Those of us that had finished top of the class were pulled aside and informed that one of us would have the opportunity to be selected for an Elite team that would work side-by-side with the CIA in future Infiltration and Combat Ops: a division that was so hush-hush, it was even lesser known than MARSOC. But only one from our group would be chosen, and (from what I was told when I was briefed) we would have to engage in a fight to the death. I.. thought it sounded strange, that they would have spent all that time and money training us, just to be killed off, and I was pretty sure it was illegal. But the end goal was too good to pass up (GOD I should have realized that), and at that point there was no way I could make contact with Robby in time to get his opinion... so, being that close, I didn't want to chance it.
Sadly... Andy decided she wanted to chance it too.
I'll never forget the day when I had to choose between the woman I loved and my own flesh and blood. The whole reason I had started down the MARSOC path to begin with was so that I could gain a position of status high enough to get close enough to Emma to get her out of her prison alive... but to kill the only woman I'd ever cared about? Possibly, the only woman I would ever be able to care about? That day has haunted me ever since. The image of her lying there, gasping for her final breaths and glaring at me with such hatred boiling over in her gaze that it kills me every time I remember... it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do next to leaving Emma in the hands of the wolves of Sector 3.
I died then. Even as I sat there on my knees, staring at her corpse and listening to the agents calling for me to board the helicopter that was waiting to take me away to my cage, I knew I had made a horrible mistake. And I was right- the choice I'd made that day took a turn down a path I had hoped to god I was wrong about... but the years that followed couldn't have been any more like the pits of hell itself.
But because I don't really want to go into detail right now about what happened in those days, I'm going to fast forward to the present- five years later, when I ran into her again. It was definitely a shock for me to see her there, when I had clearly watched her die with my own eyes... yet there she was- living, breathing. The mixed surge of memories and emotions from seeing her again triggered a fatal response with the malfunctioning Artificial Intelligence the Sector 3 had fused to my neocortex, and I nearly killed her again... but she survived that incident too. And if she didn't want to kill me before she sure as hell did after that. I don't blame her though, Andy isn't exactly the kind of person who will let go of a grudge without some sort of revenge... but even after all that, she still followed me around, still wanted me a part of her life. Hell if I know why... still, I guess I'm actually grateful for the company... even if she is a bitter old woman with a fire so fierce it scorches everything she touches. It's one of the reasons I'm unable to let her go.

Name: Emma Kaouranous
Relationship: Sister (Younger)
Emma is the only family I have left after my home was invaded and overthrown, and my family and people murdered in Genocide. After we escaped (not to say unscathed), we ended up here... Earth, where upon arrival we were taken into the custody of the American Government and put into the care of the FBI. But since those assholes can't get anything done without fighting over what falls into whose jurisdiction, after a week or so it was decided that we were going to be transferred into the custody of Sector 3 of the CIA to be processed by R&D... and by "processed" I mean picked apart like lab rats and experimented on. As you can imagine, this put us in a difficult situation, to which the only alternative was breaking out; easier said than done in a secure, government facility... and during our escape I was forced to make the first of a long string of hard decisions that lay ahead of me. What if we both couldn't make it? What if I had to leave her behind? You tell me- if in order to save the life of the one you loved, you would need to be hated, would you be able to turn your back on them and pursue, for a lifetime, that which would set them free, no matter what the cost?
I don't think she ever really forgave me for what I did- Robby had always known better though, and he made sure to tell her all about what I'd endured for her. But with all the memory wipes it was like she didn't remember a word he'd said until she had to watch me die to save her life (long story, don't ask). But hey, when someone jumps in front of a rocket-propelled grenade for you, it really puts things into perspective. Damn well should too. Her attitude towards me was definitely softer when I saw her again five months later, and once she was free of Sector 3's fear-based control she actually started trusting me again. While she has regained the majority of her memories since Sector 3 lost their hold on her, I know the doubt they planted when I had to leave her behind is still there. It's not easy to understand the concept of someone picking their battles when your life hangs in the balance, even when they're looking out for your best interests, and especially when you're only fourteen.

Name: Robby Matthews
Relationship: Friend / Brother..?
Robby... was a good guy. And yes, I say "was" in the past tense. Matthews was terminated by Sector 3 when they caught wind of his plan to shut them down- and when I say "Terminated", I don't mean "let go and sent off with warm wishes of luck in the future". He was never on DeKarte's side once he learned about Project Harbinger, but instead of speaking up and risking either being thrown off the project or terminated early, he volunteered himself for the project and laid low to do what he could to take care of Emma (when I was unable to break her free), while I worked long and hard on a plan to get back to her and get her out.
But, 6 years is a long time to stay off their radar, and eventually I was dragged back kicking and screaming (after being discovered and demonized). When I started my new assignment with Sector 3, I trained and worked with him, be it R&D or Information Analysis. He taught me everything I know about weapon mechanics and cybernetics- proper construction and compact design, overcoming mechanical problems, compensating according to a person's level of dexterity... The Military may have trained me for combat and survival, but Robby gave me the gift of science and street smarts, which I learned quickly that I had a knack for. He might have been around my age, but I could see why Sector 3 allowed him to work for them even in his youth. He was a bright kid, brighter than anyone he worked with; in fact he was years and years ahead of them- no, ahead of humanity itself. He saw and understood anomalies scientists couldn't even fathom and only dreamed of explaining.
But that wasn't even the startling part. I know that when you spend a lot of time with a person, you get used to their mannerisms and start to understand how they think and act, but there was something more that I just couldn't quite pin down. I'm not sure if it was just me or if Emma felt it too (she may not have though, due to the brainwashing..), but sometimes the way we communicated reminded me of home. We'd been finishing each other's sentences from the day we met, like we were in each other's minds, like we just got each other, and that wasn't something I'd felt since before Emma and I left home. I mean, there is that one in a never-gonna-happen chance that he and I are related, but what are the chances of meeting my long lost brother on a planet inhabited by billions of people? If it is at all possible that we are related though, I'm sure I'll see him again. We don't die out that easily.

Name: Reise Gallagher
Relationship: Enemy / Former co-worker
If you'd asked me five years ago what I'd thought of this prick, I probably would have muttered death threats under my breath and then shot you too. He's a narcissistic, chauvinistic, son of a bitch with a superiority complex... you'd think that wouldn't bother me but it does. I've met a lot of people I just can't stand, but Reise is at the top of the list... and no, it's not just because my sister's in love with him. The real reason...? Oh, gee, I don't know, maybe it's got something to do with the fact that he helped front the attack on my family and then followed us to earth with the intent to track down and kill the both of us. No, I'm not lying. Asshole got here and realized it wasn't going to be so easy and bode his time working with Emma on Project Harbinger while he waited for me to come out of hiding so he could make his move. There's only one other person I've wanted to kill more than I wanted to kill him when he finally admitted all this to me... but seeing as my sister would never forgive me, I ran him off instead. It could have turned out to be the worst mistake of my life, but in the long run it was for the best. We ended up needing his help to bring down DeKarte and the rest of Sector 3... but that doesn't mean I trust him yet. He's fooled us before, so what'd stop him from doing it again? One more slip up though and I won't hesitate to take him down.

Name: Sienna Moretti
Relationship: Business Partner / Friend
I started doing business with Sienna and her Father Lucy about a year or two after my "resurrection". She's a talented Fine Art Forger-slash-Restorer backed by the bottomless funding of the Chicago Mafia. I'm sure you can take a stab in the dark at what our "business" consists of... I'm not sure how or why she got involved with such a shady Business group, because she's got such a kind heart.. but nevertheless, so far, her record is pristine. But the integrity in the way she does business isn't the only extraordinary thing about this woman. In spite of my usual tendency to force people away, Sienna actually had the strength to look past what I was projecting, and see me for what I was suffering through. Never in my life had anyone been able to capture my temper and pacify my paranoia like she could. Since I've met her, she has helped steer me towards self-acceptance and inner peace, something that I had all but forgotten about since this Nightmare began. Sienna's gift is truly unique- if ever I were to find an Angel, I believe that she would embody it. Her love for people and her passion for life is something to aspire toward.