Carson Flatwood
Jan 15, 2014 12:28:34 GMT -5
Post by Carson Flatwood on Jan 15, 2014 12:28:34 GMT -5
The easy S T U F F . . .
Name: Carson Booker Flatwood
Nickname: Chief, Boss
Age: Fifty-Seven
Member Group: Local
Power(s): He does not have any meta powers.
Play By: Dayton Callie
Let it F L O W . . .
Born a boy from Georgia to a regular housewife, and a staunch policeman dad, Carson learned very quickly in life, the benefits of law. He was raised to be a good religious boy, who got good marks in school, and could one day follow in the footsteps of his dad. Throughout his earlier childhood, he was mostly good! About as good as any other boy. Grades that were satisfactory, free-time spent playing outside with the other boys. All was very much well with him.
But then his wilder years rolled around. At the time he hit sixteen, he decided that /he/ was going to rebel against the system. Rebel against his father. At the time, there wasn't a whole lot in the way of partying supplies, but there was hooch. Plenty of hooch. He got in to drinking, smoking, and staying out way later than he was supposed to. The crosses and American flags were burned. He decided that he was his own man. And, because of that, was summarily given a boot to the ass.
A lot of couch-surfing happened between then and now. Carson worked as a mechanic for five or so years, up and down the country. He moved more times than not to hold down a housing situation that wasn't designed to shaft him. And it was this very experience that made him grow up. Even if he wasn't going to be a religious nut, the law, and the system were integral and important. Rebellion and partying only brought about that which was his fault.
With plenty of physique, he decided to start in Small Town America, where he had currently resided. The police were short-handed, and mostly just consisted of a very tiny office block with a few sheriffs. Their standards weren't entirely strict at the time, nor did they hold up to it. The chief was an old man eager to have younger blood in the force. And from there, the job seemed like it would be really easy and dormant! He learned the protocol, the hand signals, and the police cars.
The uniform earned plenty of respect in Small Town Vermont. Citizens were more than happy to chat him up. Crime was an all-time minimum. But this didn't stop him from investing himself in office politics. His Chief favored him, plenty of direct promotions, plenty of write-ins about how great he was at his job. When he chief had passed, Carson was fifty-one years old. He received the promotion, as the highest rank next-in-line.
He had never been one to discriminate. However, he does view the Metas as a threat to the security of his town. While he doesn't want to see them dead like some of his friends and acquaintances, he would much rather the academy be moved somewhere isolated, like an island off of Scotland. His associations with the organization PUSE are secretive and off-the-books, but they have a position with the Chief of Police so that anything he can bend, he will bend.
Despite his views, this doesn't stop him from associating with meta children or adults.
Behind the M A S K . . .
Name: Zach
Age: Eighteen
RP Experience: A loooong time.
How did you find us?: Recommendation.
Show your S K I L L S . . .
"I can't say they're the worst people ever like Joseph likes to play them up..." He shrugged, leaning back in his office chair, noting that Donna, the only female sheriff in town, didn't seem to believe him. "But look, it's just fact of the matter that they're a danger. Not in the sense that they will turn and pull another terrorist option... That's really unlikely. No, what I worry about are just the accidents. A pyro accidentally burning the shopping strip down. An earth... manipulator just causing some sort of fissure."
He shook his head, hands up to gesture some sort of importance. Some sort of emphasis that wasn't exactly found in his voice. "I like Doc Neville, I like some of the kids. I've given them rides before. But this academy just ain't meant for our town. We need to put them up in a place where they're a lot safer. I've been doing some internet searching. If they're so prestigious, they can pen themselves up in a private island off of Scotland, or something."
He knew his viewpoint was widely considered bigoted, in a place where it seemed like they were a minority day after day after day. And worst of all, he knew he was friends with people with even more ill intent. Hell, the people he talked to either wanted them dead or extremely hurt. Why bother doing that? They're innocent people in his book. And while some of them were snot nosed brats, there were plenty who were so cordial. Usually they were the one with more... useless powers.
But even then, they couldn't just hang around. He looked up at Donna yet again, who impatiently had her hands affixed on her hips. "I'm not Joseph, and I'm not that terrorist kid. You're just going to have to trust me on this, Donna. They're. A. Danger. They're a danger to you, me, and Pilot's Ridge. Now, look. I have some work to do, then I've got to go take a drive, so could you just do me a favor and keep a little hush-hush about this..?" Impatiently, he dismissively waved her off with the back of his hand, turning to face his computer.
It was currently opened up to an E-Mail client. Hell, this stuff could be traced, but he had absolutely no reason to be investigated. So, for now, this was a perfectly safe option.
From: Chief Carson Flatwood
To: joseph.ashley
Hey Brother,
I know you still have to use one of these from time to time. Public library, hell, you may have finally gotten one in your own shack. No better way of keeping up with the world, than looking up anything you'd ever need on some carbon pipes... But I digress.
Donna's basically been picking me apart. I don't know how she found out just how I feel, but she did. She probably wont blab, but I also don't know if she'll give you any shit or not. I wouldn't worry or anything, but if you see our car in about one or two hours, it ain't me.
You should be just fine.
Don't worry,
Carson.
P.S. It's almost hunting season! Let's go bag an elk when I can next get off of work.
