Major Charlie Palmer

- Gunslinger -
- The Psiot Killer -
- Gunslinging Hobo -

 

USAF (Ret.)
Project Rising Spirit's H.A.R.D. Corps team leader (disbanded)
Omen's H.A.R.D. Corps team leader (defected)

 

American
49 years old
6'2"
Single

Story:

In the early days of the Gulf War, a Lockheed C-130 crashed, with no survivors on record. Major Charlie Palmer, however, was very much alive, comatose and braindead. With no relatives or family members to get in the way, an empty casket was buried with honors and Charlie himself was given to PRS.

An implant was put in his brain, reawakening him from his coma and giving him the ability to work in tandem with Lifeline, an officer assigned to him that was able to rotate which ability the chip could grant him with the help of a computer. At first, the implants were bulky, with an external headpiece. This was later removed after a second surgery.

If Charlie refused to lead the Harbinger Active Resistance Division, or the HARD Corps, the implant would be removed, and he'd lapse back into a coma and die a wisp of a man on life support. If he accepted, he would be serving the world in a whole new way, albeit on the most stereotypical leash possible- disobedience could cause the device to be detonated.

For the first time in his life, Charlie became a team player.

 

The HARD Corps had a simple job- round up potential psiots of all ages and bring them in for PRS. What happened past that point was none of his concern. When HARD Corps became obsolete due to project Bloodshot, Charlie packed up his bags and moved as far north in Alaska as he could.

 

Upon Bloodshot going rogue and the Harbinger Foundation gaining momentum in addition to their own army of superpowered humans, Charlie and the remainder of his team were called back in for more training and to become active in the field once more. Retrieving Bloodshot- and some of the children he had escaped left- brought about an unexpected turn in Charlie's life. A romantic relationship grew between himself and Ray Garrison, the latest model from the program, though it fell apart when he failed to trust the man when horrible events tore the team apart and resulted in many deaths.

 As all things go, PRS was destroyed. He did not stay unemployed for long. What was left of his old employers merged into Omen, which once more called on his psiot-hunting abilities and on him to train more HARD Corps members. He was simply glad to have a job...

until the Rook massacre.

 

With the blood of dozens of innocent children on his hands, in addition to that of child soldiers PRS created themselves, Charlie walked away. Due to the nature of his implant, the multiple upgrades to it, and pure luck, it cannot be detonated anymore. Without a Lifeline agent, the chip simply glitches from power to power, and he's stuck on whatever he has for the moment with no ability to change it.

- - -

Abilities:
The writer will roll at the start of every fight, altercation, or dangerous moment in RP. Every two posts, another roll will be made, unless there are factors that prevent it in the story.
1- Shield
2- Psionic Blast
3- Ghost Mode
4- Enhanced Strength
5- Enhanced Speed
6- Invulnerability

 

Marksmanship:
Charlie's call-sign was Gunslinger due to his belief that weapons should be used first, and powers left. He would have his whole team stay on invulnerability and rely on bullets until no other options remained. It helped that he was, and remains, an expert marksman with high levels of training throughout his whole life, from his teenage years through his time in active duty.

OOC Info:
Written by Sarge.

21+ | Native language: English
Banter, Para, Multi-Para, & Novella welcome.

 Threads:
-Fick Blazkowicz
-Sam Nishimura
-Mephistopheles
-OPEN
-OPEN

If you've got a really good idea or a burning desire to write, I will consider opening a thread with you despite my slots being full. Please send me your plot idea and we can talk about it! I will, however, be selective from this point on, as this is not my main character. (That would be Geist, who many of you already know.)

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Comments

  • "You've met Silas," Fick reminds him. "I thought he didn't for years. Maybe I was so traumatized I hallucinated him dying. or maybe he did, and someone found a way to bring him back. Either way,  I was miserable for a long time, and having telepathy only made me more anxious knowing what people really thought of me. So I just...I don't know. Did what transtar and my parents told me to."

  • "I was tricked into it. A dumb stupid kid who thought I was going to accomplish something amazing after beinbg strapped to a chair. I only realized it when I saw Silas get blasted, I saw videos of what could go wrong and I panicked. I don't blame Dr. S for any of it, but I do blame my parents. And Silas, sometimes. He didn't get scarred, by the way," Fick points to his eyes. Ah, that makes sense. Silas' are still a grey blue.

    "Not that it matters anymore, anyways."

  • “Jesus Christ,” she grumbles, and while it is upsetting that. Yes. Apparently throwing a pregnant woman down the stairs is not an issue, but the mess is. She has to let out a breath to even think about letting it go. Pissing off the man who NEARLY killed her is...well it’s a problem because he might finish the job.

    “Okay!” She snaps, “How about the emotional terminator fucking chill for all of three seconds to let me get them out. I’ll even name my kid after you but BREATHE. I can even lend you one of my ‘mother to be- breathing 101’ videos.”

    So...maybe. Maybe she’s moody and has stopped caring. Either way, midway through her words she pulls the keys out from her shirt pocket and holds it out for him. She waits to be put down. Will she be put down? She hopes so. He’s like 10x bigger than she is, but she wants to strangle him. Then maybe have pickles in bed and cry about how mean she was. The hell is even going on with her? It’s too early for mood swings, or so she thinks. Maybe it’s stress.

    Yeah, that’s it. Stress.

  • ":Good thing they're gone," Fick shivers, not believing what he hears. "I was twenty. Didn't stop it from being traumatic. Sometimes I wonder if that might be the reason im aloways so angry."

  • "He's a mix of us both. We...we got saome help and a surrogate. So there actually might be a possibility he's a psiot too. But he's two. So they can't just kill a two year old. I wont let them. Psiot or not," Fick sounds determined. 

  • "Russians, of course," Fick rolls his eyes. When his son is mentioned, Fick glances down to Four . "Isn't he? He's a good boy. He's just like Wil. He's wicked smart, too. Like, a genius. It's so cute."

  • "Exposure, huh? Like from radiation?" Now Fick IS picking things out of Charlie's head, but not on purpose. His gaze goes down to little Four, who's already managed to fall asleep during their ride. Fick is a bit jealous, wishing he could do the same so this entire ordeal would go faster. Either way, he figures it wont be that bad soon enough.

  • "Who? And how the hell is he gonna fit?" Fick seems to brighten up at the idea he might be able to fly the rest of the way. He watches Charlie closely, clearly being nice and not reading his mind just to find out. But then the idea of a stranger being squished in next to his son makes him reconsider if that's a good idea.

  • "Shut the fuck up," Fick rolls his eyes while covering Four's ears as he lets out the F word. "You're just too much of a dick to notice. Wil thinks it's beautiful. Don't you Wil?"

    Fishing for complements from the mute guy as usual.

  • "Ninjak and I got a past. If he didnt kill me back then, he wouldn't kill me now," Fick sounds sure of it. "And I know he puts honor above averything else. It's just not gonna be fun seeing him. Or Bloodshot. Not after what they did to my beauitiful face," Fick's jaw is FINE. He's just being a wimp.

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