Walter D. Fisk

[walter]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,450,true]

[atrb=background,http://i53.tinypic.com/2vjbf52.jpg] POKEMON TRAINER w a l t e r | d e l l | f i s k WALTER.D.FISK »NICKNAME: Waltz »AGE: 29 »GENDER: Male »REGION: Johto »HOMETOWN: Goldenrod »HEIGHT: 5’10 »WEIGHT: 140 lbs »EYES: Red »HAIR: Salt and Pepper »SKIN: Pale »FACE CLAIM: VOCALOID --- HONNE DELL »LIKES: Genetics Research; Being Left Alone (After Asking For Some FREAKING Peace and Quiet); Crossword Puzzles; Ditto; & Money »DISLIKES: Hypocrites; Ethical Dilemmas; Rare Candies; The Color Turquoise; & Being Broke »STRENGTHS: An Actual-to-Goodness Scientist; Not To Proud To Beg (Or Whine, Or Cry, Or Do Other Ignoble Things); Actually Consults His Pokedex; Remembers To Eat and Sleep On Occasion; & A Competent Medic »WEAKNESSES: Real Sappy; Interested In Sciency Forces That Should Not Be Toyed With; Enjoys Infuriating Co-Workers Everyone; Easy To Dislike; Showers Are Not Happy Fun Tiemz; But Clean Clothes Are A Must; (And Bubble Baths Are Okay). »APPEARANCE: Walter has gotten rather used to his labcoat. It helps that it's not quite the same material as the genuine article and resistant to stains, tears, burning, acids, bases and most forms of pokemon saliva (which is useful like woah) and all-around practical. Warm during the cold, breezy during the heat and easier to maintain than a wild lopunny. Technically it's Rocket Gear, but it looks innocuous enough to pass muster and eccentric enough to be memorable only for the fact that it is, indeed, a lab coat. Other than that, he can be usually spotted in all combinations of formal and informal wear. He's not terribly self-conscious about his appearance (nor is his wardrobe anything close to organized) so it won't be surprising to discover him wandering about with a bunny slipper on one foot and a rubber boot on the other. He can be found wearing formal wear, but likely as not it means that either his pokemon or someone he knew, dressed him up in the morning before he'd had his morning coffee. Physically he fits the stereotype of the scientist. Relatively tall and lanky. A little on the thin side and certainly pale. His paleness, however, is a result of the fact that he was born an albino: red eyes, lack of pigmentation, skin that burned at the merest contact with sunlight, the works. His hair's a bit of an oddity, silver-grey instead of the usual fine platinum blond but he hasn't cared about his hair for a long time. He'd be rather handsome, in that strange, exotic way if he bothered with his appearance but since he doesn't, well... »PERSONALITY: Calmly abrasive, Walter's one of the people who knows that he's in the ninety-ninth percentile when it comes to smarts and not afraid to flaunt it. While he's a terrible trainer (when it comes to battle) his pokemon are unusually bright which is, all things considered, probably just a different form of training. Viola is, in particular, an excellent example of his effect on pokemon; Bell would too but the Bedlum lineage of pokemon are so far past superhuman thinking that it's kind of hard to measure by any objective standard. So yeah, he's standoffish and totally a jerk. But he can be a nice jerk, on occasion. Soft spot for kids, baby pokemon and all that. While he wouldn't go terribly out of his way to indulge in heroics, he'd probably play the good Samaritan if the need called for it. He can perform emergency first aid, after all. He's still a me-first type person, regardless, so don't think he'll ever act out an altruistic impulse that could blow his cover or re-involve him in Rocket affairs because he won't. The only person he would probably care about more than himself would be his sister and she's missing. Maybe one of the trainers that got snatched, maybe because of their affiliation with the Rockets. Whatever the case, he's been determined to find her. »HISTORY: Some years ago in the depths of Dark Cave a door guarded by a Garchomp opens. Waltz played with his lighter. Once upon times he did magic tricks with it. Today he just absent-mindedly flicked it on and off before lighting his cigarette. Numbers whizzed across his screen and despite the awful fire hazard it represented he merely jabbed the damn addiction into his mouth and watched the scrolling letters. Several times he stopped to click and highlight and change several bits but for the most part he let them pass by. The 60-watt bulb flickered above him casting the makeshift laboratory into sudden gloom before reasserting itself. Goddamn generators. The local wildlife must have been playing around again. Luckily everything had triple redundancies. He wouldn’t have to worry about an outage sending all his work into the howling gloom of sudden deletion. After a few more moments he stretched back on his wheelie-chair and gave a grunt of half-satisfied approval. “Bell, double-check these figures for me.” “Tang,” the metang dutifully agreed before hovering in front of the screen. Taking another drag from his cigarette he blew out. A network of ventilators quickly took the smoke and shoved it away. Those hadn’t been his idea. But they were probably all that were keeping him alive. That and the unhappy happiny stationed outside providing him with highly nutritious if somewhat bland meals. His screen beeped. He clicked it irritably. “Admin Arpeggio is coming up, sir.” “Fuck.” Waltz muttered as he glanced at the calendar. He got off the chair and began looking for papers. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-” Fifteen frazzled seconds later he had – more or less – collected enough documentation to get together some sort of basic presentation out. “Bell – no, goddamnit, keep on double-checking – Viola – Viola?” The mawile – who had been busy modding a rather boring program perked up. “Go find our guest chair and turn up the ventilation.” “Maw!” The little pokemon said, saluting smartly before rushing off. Five minutes later and he was lounging on his chair again, mask of boredom back in place. He didn’t turn when the door opened. Booted feet ghosted across the pebbly laboratory floor. “Smoking’s bad for your health Professor Fisk.” His sister said. ------------------------- A long, long time ago, things were different. They were just two people who wanted to change the world. Like any other. ------------------------- “Fuck off,” said professor responded as cheerfully as he could before taking another drag from his cigarette. He didn’t blow the smoke into the Rocket representative’s face but rather spun his chair around to face her. “So why’re you here, Mrs. Bigshot?” Mawile returned with the chair. His sister sat down without comment. “We take care of our assets.” Arpeggio – whose actual name was a boring but rather more likely Sonia - replied simply, silver hair cascading down the nape of her neck. With some distaste, Waltz noticed that she was still wearing one of those awful glorified bikinis. Their superiors were a bunch of perverts, if nothing else. “You happen to be one of our leading scientists.” She continued. “Leading scientists,” he muttered, a little bitterly. If one could call a facilitator of mass murder a man of science. “Right and if I-” “You won’t.” She said. They’d had this conversation before. It never changed. He’d talked them into it and now he tried to talk them out of it. He’d won the first, was losing the second. She might be able to cut and run but he- Yeah well, they had a psychic lock on him. No matter where he ran, they were going to find him. “I guess not,” he conceded after a moment’s breath and another drag from his cigarette. He spun around again. “Well, lemme show you what we got.” The next thirty minutes were filled with pleasant exchanges that nearly reminded him of the old times when they exchanged ideas and were actually working on purely theoretical science. He’d gone into genetics, she’d gone into particle physics. Still, they knew enough of the lingo of each others’ fields to make sense of some of the more basic stuff. “-and that’s it. The fire morphs are completely unusable – I think it’s the fire sacs that are simply incompatible with human physiology – but some of the water and, interestingly enough, insect morphs may prove viable.” “Can they be deployed?” He thought of the twisted little creatures. If he were drunk he might have laughed or cried. He wasn’t, so he simply ground the butt of his cigarette into his desk. “Hell no. I’ll be surprised if their immune systems will be able to handle the stress of real life.” “So you’re writing it off as a failure?” “Can’t tell. Certainly not now – humans have a comparatively long developmental stage. Even the fastest growing insectoids are several years away.” For once the façade broke. “Walt… if you keep on reporting failures the higher-ups will think-” “I know,” he sighed. But he had been the one to propose it, knowing it was a wild goose chase. And if it wasn’t… well, that was a bridge that could be crossed when they had got there. At the beginning, they asked for simple things. A Red Gyrados. He’d found the right gene, spliced it in and even if the chances of successfully bringing it to term were one in several thousand he’d managed. He’d also found a string of parasites that would alleviate allergies but also, coincidentally, perpetually enrage the usually docile snorlax population and a bacteria that would mitigate the negative effects of alcohol and but happened to weaken psychics. All sorts of nifty things. Easy things. His kill count was probably in the thousands. These genetic experiments were unlikely to work. Failure meant a lot of things. Like living, as opposed to dead people. And to think he’d dragged his sister into the muck along him. And she loved him more than she cared about her honor, her conscience, her dignity. It would be so much easier if she were just a sell-out but he knew better. They wouldn’t even let her work with the other science geeks – just train dark-type pokemon. And he- Fuck. He kept on working. ------------------------- At first no one wanted to listen; For they lived in a land of blind fools. But one day, they discovered Someone who could see ------------------------- The months passed. The pace of his progress shifted. He got scattered bits and bytes of information about the progression of the Plan but nothing concrete. Every now and then he’d send some biological terror for the superiors to play with but now more than ever he was sending them novelties. A glass onix. A golden magikarp. Any shiny they could think of and some they couldn’t. He even managed to create a perfectly obedient larvitar that happened to hate fighting. His sister visited him twice more. Her arm was in a cast in the second. Half her face bandaged-up. He’d asked. She said the Ranger hadn’t gotten off quite so lightly. His baby sister. Getting hurt. Killing people. Because some fucker wouldn’t let a girl do research on fusion energy and instead asked her to be a trainer. Oh she was good. Fantastic, even. But still, she could be so much safer- But that was a dangerous sentiment, wasn’t it? Fusion power would be a little too much like giving a claymore to the biggest bully on the playground. And then, of course, everything changed. First they got rid of the garchomp that was ostensibly supposed to protect him, but really there to keep him from getting out. Then they called away his assistants. Finally, he lost radio contact with them at all except for one last message. Found something. Found something. SNAFU- And that’s how the Rangers found him. Perhaps they had been expecting a monster. What they got was a very drunk, half-starved scientist that took one look at them and started laughing his ass off. They put him in a mental institution. Probably one the nicer gestures in theory, but in practice it was pretty fucked up. So, of course, he busted himself out. »Role-Play Sample: Padding through a mental hospital at three in the morning was not exactly Walter's cup of tea. Staying was less, though, so he kept at it, eyes flickering in the gloom of emergency lightning that never switched off and the ambient glow of faroff light sources. He thought he heard a guard approach and froze, squeezing into one of the alcoves. He nearly bumped into the water fountain that was contained in it but managed to avoid it, just in time. A mental institution never quite sleeps. It sedates, but anesthesia is a tricky, tricky thing. It's a rolling, uncomfortable doze. Walter swallowed. Getting caught wouldn't be the worst fate. Not even close. After a breath, he moved on. Three floors down, storage room eight he'd find his gear. In the basement, he'd probably find his pokemon. That was less of a sure thing: it was possible they'd been taken to the nearest pokemon center. That'd be a pain, possibly one that couldn't be dealt with except to hope they found a good home. Pffft. Like there was anyone who could provide Viola with the mental stimulation she required. Or Bell... (well, he needed Bell. Not that he'd ever tell that to the flying gizmo). Another sound. He hadn't even made it to the staircase yet. Walter bit down on his tongue and crawled into another alcove. This time there was a guard who swept out a flashlight before resuming his nightly prowl. Walter didn't dare breathe. He could do this. He could. »POKEMON:

[/b]: Viola
» SPECIES: Orange Assistant (Mawile)
» TYPE: Steel
» ABILITY: Hyper Cutter
» GENDER: Female
» MOVEPOOL:
»»Astonish | Bite | Fake Tears | Sweet Scent
»»Swords Dance (TM) | Ice Fang (Egg Move)
» PERSONALITY: Calm and unusually intelligent, Viola has already mastered many human languages even though she cannot necessarily speak them. Her specialty is programming and she dislikes battling.[/ul]

[/b]: Bell
» SPECIES: Flying Computer-Thing (Metang)
» TYPE: Steel/Psychic
» ABILITY: Clear Body
» GENDER: Male
» ATTACKS:
»»Metal Rise| Takedown | Metal Claw | Confusion
»»Earthquake (TM) | Hidden Power Fire (TM) | Grass Knot (TM)
» PERSONALITY: Waltz’ starter, Metang is a long-suffering companion. While normally quiet he does has limits that one would be wise not to cross.


» NICKNAME: Scales
» SPECIES: Emergency Food Supply
» TYPE: Water
» ABILITY: Swift Swim
» GENDER: Female
» MOVEPOOL:
»»Splash
» PERSONALITY: Caught entirely by accident, Scales is... a magikarp. Since it would be borderline unethical to release her back into the wild (for the record: Walter hasn't the first clue where the pokeball came from or how it got into his pack) Walter kept her. At the moment she... floats and flails about.

[/ul][/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[Hayden]

Accepted!!

Welcome to Heal My Wounds! We hope you enjoy your time here.

PS: I enjoy the magikarp xD <3