REVOLUTION CHARACTER PROFILE

- TOP SECRET - CONFIDENTIAL -

Cadet Basic Information

Name: Reed Kerrigan
Gender: Male
Age: 27
DOB: October 11th
Height: (cm or ft)
Weight: self-explanatory
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Red
Rank: General

Memo and Important Notes

Role: Recruitment & Peace-Maintenance
Special Talent(s): (Optional! Only include if they'll be useful for our purpose)
Previous Occupation: Timid kid.
Motives: Hatred for a former family, respect for an old man, and a quietly practiced love of music.

Physical Description

Never seen without his dog Skip. You don't get along with Skip, you don't get along with Reed.

Personality and Demeanor

Personality: Reed is always, always smiling. It's a calm and friendly look that doesn't change, even if he's witnessing something gruesome. It's been rumored that he'd still be smiling while killing a man in cold blood, but no one's really bold enough to say it to his face. That said, they wouldn't want to anyway. Reed's kind to everyone, regardless of background or personality. He's soft-spoken, but when he does have something to say people tend to listen. Behind the welcoming & gentle exterior, however, is a thick wall of distrust. Reed will always act nicely towards you, but he will never be genuine. He's also known for a surprisingly reckless streak.

Interactions: On the surface, Reed can get along with anyone. He's pleasant around his comrades, and is usually among the kinder of the Revolution's leadership team. That said, the perceptive will note that he almost never speaks about himself or divulges any personal information to anyone. It's very difficult to dislike Reed if you've known him only a brief time, but it's near impossible to get close to him. Only those who have served many years with the cause are even aware that he has a side other than the flat, never faltering smile.

Brief History

Reed Kerrigan was born to revolt. It's in his blood, or so goes the official statement. His father before him was accused and found guilty of treason when Reed was only four years old. The boy barely knew him; it was his mother that sold him out. Because of her 'loyalty' and 'great service' to the Community, she was granted the privilege of a second pairing, one that rewarded her with an extraordinarily rare social upgrade. Reed's new father was a man of politics and civil service... a man wholly loyal to the Community and its ideals. By Community standards he was perfect; to Reed he was the devil himself.

In the eyes of his new father, Reed's blood had impurities... flaws that needed to be beaten out, in any way possible- and beat them out he tried. Reed never resisted. As a child he'd always been quiet and obedient, cowardly even. He resents those years of his life more than anything else he's experienced. Time passed and things only continued to degenerate. Reed's mother either didn't know or chose to ignore what was going on; she knew all too well by that point the power of the Community and the consequences of defiance.

Tralala continuing on~~~ head injuries, voices, lots of red, Reginald!, Je, Revolution, good years, no more Reginald, flat line~

For authorized personnel only. Property of Revolution and Gobi/White.
/~HUGEL TO RECRUIT

He was just a boy when he first learned the significance of red, far too young to understand but forced nonetheless. His mother's remarriage was intended to bring good fortune to the family. It was a privilige, she said, to have been chosen for such a respectable partnership. They were finally moving up in the world. Not many had that option.

Martin Kerrigan appeared, by all rights, to be the perfect citizen. He was a well established politician within the Community, had devoted himself wholly to their ideals, and had his pockets thickly lined for his endeavors. To the envious eye looking in, there could be no greater opportunity for husband or father.

Reed's first encounter with the man, however, was uneventful. He was still a child, quiet by nature and prone to a timid demeanour that all but ensured he would not be following in the footsteps of either of his fathers. Any splendid traits his new parent held were beyond his scope of understanding or care. Martin was introduced to him in the kitchen one morning as 'father,' and that was simply that. For the remaining years of his brief childhood, he was a constant in their home.

For Reed Kerrigan, the day seemed as unimportant as any other. It was simply another happening, only curious enough to attract his attention for a few moments before the standard routine resumed.

Community life continued.

------

The first time he was struck, Reed could not comprehend the action. If one were to answer incorrectly or be caught dozing during lessons, it wasn't uncommon to feel a swift, sharp sting on the wrist as penalty. Once, well over a year previously, Reed had lied to his mother about an assignment. On that occasion, he'd learned her capacity for wrath quickly at the end of a spoon. But none of these small pains compared to the blow he received from Martin Kerrigan.

Punishment was what one received when one had done something wrong... and as far as Reed understood, he had not failed in any way. Lessons had finished for the day and he had greeted Martin as usual upon entering the house. Had his -disallowed_word- more frightening was the unknown), he could not resist Martin's call. Reed was, as always, obedient and demure.

He had been expecting the blow, but when it came, he was still unprepared. It was something sturdy and weighted; perhaps a book of some kind? There was no time to sit and ponder what his step-father had weaponized against him or what rule he'd now broken... seconds after impact, following a brief stab of familiar pain, Reed seemed to lose track of the incident.

From his shoulder, a thin light was flickering and dancing about, and to his child's eyes it was fascinating enough to draw his attention almost fully. The voice in his ear was sweet and gentle; Reed knew instantly that it could be trusted. If you want to go away, just close your eyes. The message seemed to resonate in his mind, becoming something like an odd song. He did not need to question. The voice was kind; the world was not.

Reed shut his eyes tightly, and everything went black.

------

Despite the promised escape, Reed awoke to nothing but tremendous pain and confusion. His face was streaming, the world was composed of a cacophony of howling noise, and his head felt on the brink of explosion. It took his eyes several minutes to adjust, and even once they had the image was blurred, distorted. All Reed could make of the situation was pain. Pain and the color red. It was everywhere, felt as though it had been scored across the backs of his eyes, drilled deeply into his brain. An endless tide of blurry red and hurt.

He was still just a boy, not of a sound mind, and his response to the chaos of the waking world was simply to continue laying on the ground. The situation was too much. Reed did not want to try and understand.

For what seemed like an eternity he stayed there, on the cusp of consciousness, listening as the roaring noise in his ears gradually diminished. His eyes seemed no closer to focusing, though. Though he drew no comfort from the chaotic blur, Reed was dead set against closing his eyes again. It seemed as if he would lie there forever, finally facing the paramount of his inadequacies.

Then, barely audible under what had reduced to a dull pounding, he could distinguish footsteps. They were heavy, heavier than Martin's, though this brought Reed no particular relief. For all he knew, the added weight in each step was just another instrument of penalty and torment. Reed did not rise, did not attempt to see who it was approaching him, but the steps slowly grew nearer.

Right as they reached his side and his apprehension hit its peak, the being, whatever it was, stopped. For several seconds, Reed wondered if the noise had simply been imagined among the mess of his thoughts.

Come with me."

The voice cut cleanly through the chaos and Reed knew it was not invented. He felt himself being lifted not unkindly to his feet, and then his hand being engulfed by one significantly larger. It was warm, but the boy held no trust in that alone. After all, it had been the voice of an angel itself, he was certain, that had lead him to his current state of disaster.

Still, the child Reed Kerrigan was not one to question. As he had grown all too accustomed to doing, he gripped the proffered hand tightly and stumbled quietly forward under its guidance.

Though he did not know it at the time, that tripping first step severed all of his ties with the Community thereafter.