The Smiling Man
- Feb 14, 2006
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Name: Nicholas J. Jaguar
Job Position: Mountain Hiker. A cover up job that Nicholas enjoys on a daily basis. Having a good sense of direction is another great asset to his genius mind and charming personality to those who meet him. Only getting lost once with a woman that had strayed from the group. That woman turned out to be his soul mate.
His Real Job: Government Agent. Specialist in Mechanics. Mr.Jaguar works on gear for soldiers to use in battle. High technology that boosts speed, agility and transportation. Accuracy is the key in preventing soldiers from dying on the battle field. Thanks to making AI's to go with the gear he created. A valuable man with a mind set of a genius that leads to insanity.
Personality: A man of few words with a grace that intimidates most people, due to fact of being a biker and a bouncer in his previous teen years. After an accident befell upon his twin brother did Nicholas become less open to his family. Isolating himself from anyone trying to get to close until a woman got beneath his skin and knocked some sense into him. A softie at heart that will do anything to protect those he loves and will do the impossible to keep them safe.
Bio: Fifteen years of working for the government has paid off immensely after being nearly broke for a year as a biker. Living on the high road, believing he could be a nomad that traveled from place to place with only a few extravagant items. Turns out he was wrong after having to live on the streets a few times. Worse, he was being followed by a man in a suit. Reminding him of the Men in Black. It wasn't until one night at the bar that his whole life changed around. Two years later did he meet the love of his life. For a little while, he grew fearful of the risks in letting Sasha into his life because, his work was classified. Luck must of been shining down on him when, Sasha never found out and he could carry on his work. Until a year later he was diagnosed with cancer. The clock now ticking against him as he continues to make gear for the government and tries to prolong his life for as long as he can. Without the government knowing.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick... Clank!
The tiny gear whirled around and around, sounding its monotonous ticking over and over again—it was enough to drive one completely mad. Only once every sixty ticks did a new sound, that of a heavy clanking noise, relieve the routine, as the smaller gear made contact with a larger one, which in turn spun and changed its meticulous machinery.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
Such an intricate and precise machine, filled with an assortment of small, large, familiar, and bizarre bits and pieces, all working together toward one goal. The gears slowly turned, the levers raise and lower, and electricity flows from one place to another through long, rubber tubes; all the pieces of the machine working together for one man's mad desires.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Clank! Clang!!
Another spin of the larger gear now turns an even larger one, which rests along against a large, upward spire. The spire, which sat at the center of the room and was the core of the machinery, reached high toward the ceiling, a large, circular platform resting on top. Numerous wires and tubes ran from the central platform up to the ceiling, and formed an intricate web of crisscrossing lines as they ran in every direction to the room's end, disappearing into the walls.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
Steam rose from the wall as gears slowly turned and tuned, each tooth appearing for a brief moment, only to again disappear into the wall. A low hum sounded as electricity quickly surged along a glass pipe from one side of the room to the other.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Clank! Clang!! DONG! DONG! DONG!
The reaction continued, as the larger gear turned a gear above it, which spun three great gears that snaked up the side of the spire and up toward the platform. The next rotation would place the gears in line with a huge gear that ran the entire circumference of the platform.
On top the platform stood a throne, built into the platform itself. On it sat a frail, old man, whose beard reached the floor, ran to the platform's edge, and dropped halfway down the large spire. From his back sprouted a number of tubes, each of which ran to a different part of the throne. A small machine was placed within his nostrils, pumping an unknown gas into his lungs.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
The man was a cruel, heartless man, with a vendetta against the entire world. For years he toiled: gathering, constructing, employing, and enslaving, all for the sake of constructing the monstrous machine he sat inside of. And with that machine, his life's work, he would enact his revenge. With that machine, the Doomsday Machine, he would destroy the entire world.
Tick... Tick... Tick... Clank! Clang!! DONG! DONG! DONG! BANG!!
Outside, a large, black machine hovered over the land, easily a mile wide and stood tall like a giant citadel. Large plumes of thick, black smoke poured out of the machine, coating the sky and blotting out the sun. A cold wind blew over the green field, and a blue light began to shine from within the citadel machine. A heavy hum filled the sky and electrical charges filled the air, as the machine began building up massive energy.
Tick... Tick... Tick...
Soon the small gear would align, turning the rest and finally moving the giant gear that sat behind the throne. When that gear finally turned, it would activate the Doomsday Machine, and the citadel would unleash the man's fury and rage upon the world.
A weapon of unimaginable destruction...
A man's life work...
His anger and hate, all directed toward the world...
And it all...
DONG! DONG! DONG!
With a single, tiny...
[ Boom! ]
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock . . . the twin sounds kept echoing in the dark corridor, as Councilman Quayle continued moving as quickly and quietly as possible, his red and black robes barely betraying his presence.
Quick, Quick, Quick! Whatsthe, nonono, the spell, damn it! Pale green eyes, wrenched wide open in fear, frantically looked about, as he searched for a place both physically and mentally away from this nightmare of reality.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock . . . The sound crept ever closer, as it softly bounced off of the granite walls.
Through the d-door, yesyesyes! Quayle quickly opened the door, and closed it behind him. It shut with a dark and rusty creak, as if it hadn't been used in decades.
Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock . . . . The sounds moved faster, and in his fear, Councilman Quayle ran, sprinting towards the dais at the far end of the hall, black and red robes billowing behind him as he fled the abyssal sound.
He ran past the beautifully-carved, wooden pews on either side of the central aisle, the thousand and one candle chandelier above, the granite columns with their depictions of nature in still life.
Panting, he scrambled behind the dais, and up its steps, coming to a standing behind it, as the sounds came closer to the door he had left behind, a hundred and thirteen steps ago.
Tick, Tock, Tick . . . The sounds ceased for only a second, as the door Quayle had opened only moments prior, creaked its deathly sound once more.
In the light of the chandelier strode only a knight in armor of the purest white, bearing a golden sword. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock . . . The sound began once more, as the knight raised its blade, and began charging the dais. Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock . . .
Thethespell! Quayle's mind raced to recover the words. "Ars-Arsarsars" He took a single breath, and uttered the words, embracing them in his despair. "Arsanys pavyrs insendus!"
A great ball of flame erupted from his fingertips, and flew towards the source of the couplet of sounds, the dreaded knight. Please, please, Creator above, spare me from this malevolence!
As the tip of the golden sword met the fiery sphere, the great ball seemed as if to be sucked into the blade itself, leaving no trace of its existence. Then the knight slowed from its charge, moving once more at its slow, steady pace. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock . . .
The sound suddenly reached a speed beyond, Tickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick . . .
Then, it seemed as if time stood still; one moment, Councilman Quayle saw the knight merely standing, blade out, and the next, saw the tip of the golden sword, blood-splattered, emerging from a hole in his chest. Mymymyblood . . .
A single Tock followed, as the white knight shoved the blade out of the now expired Councilman with a single, great yank upon the sword. Kneeling down and grasping at the edge of the once unblemished red and black robes, Tick-Tock wiped Aurous clean.
With steady, accurate movements, Tick-Tock rose to attention, holding the now-clean Aurous before its helmed face, standing as still as statue, the only sound being the terrifying tick . . . tock . . .tick . . . tock . . ., as it waited patiently for the Master's return.
Name: Spencer Jarvis West
Occupation: Spencer was a mechanic.Most people thought it was the most basic job you could imagine.No excitement,not a job worth having,no kind of job someone would ever want to spend the rest of their life doing every single day,fix gears,change oil,repair means auto money machine.It's not that simple.First off,you have and complete High School Education or GED. Qualified mechanics first need to obtain a high school diploma or GED.Next,you have to enroll in a Vocational Education Program.Then, obtain a Certificate.Later,you have to receive Employer Training.Lastly, become a Master Mechanic,Spencer's so called "The American Dream". But none of that was enough for the bullies in his childhood memory to take him even the slightest bit of seriousness.Back in the "Olden Days", jobs to juveniles were sports,acting, and driving fancy tournament race cars.But Spencer never had a passion for driving cars.He wanted to repair them for the use of others.So he grew up to be what he for since as long as he can remember, a mechanic.
Biography/Background Life: Spencer grew up with five brothers and two sisters when he was 10.It wasn't easy.His brothers would always eat up the everything they could.That would include breakfast,snacks and dinner.It got to the point to where he had do something what Spencer called "adapt".He would hide the bits and scraps of leftover dinner in the back of the fridge,keep the one bag of snacks locked away in the basement for his safe keeping,and wake up early so he could at least have the so called most important meal of the day.Sure it was a bit savage, but hey?That's adapting.As for his sisters, he really tried to avoid their sleepovers with their friends a lot.They would sometimes "kidnap" him, and play Ken doll dress up with his face.He avoided it pretty well....most of the time to say the least.At age 15, he learned he found an interest in gears and how well they functioned with cars and automobiles.He knew right away he wanted to be a mechanic at that point.At 17,Spencer graduated high school with his first car.The local mechanic said he could have it if he could repair it.He was basically Spencer's mentor and made him what he is today.