Wirik
Hero in the Making
Timothy Alexander Royce
NAME: Timothy Alexander Royce
AGE: 28
GENDER: Male
OCCUPATION: Former Soldier
APPEARANCE:
Tim stands six feet tall and weighs roughly two hundred and twenty pounds. He has brown hair and blue eyes. From the years in the army he is built athleticlly. Not hugely muscled but enough that you really wouldn't want to get into a fight with him. For the most part he is unkempt. He keeps his hair cut short but lets his beard grow for several days before ever bothering to shave it.
He is darker, tanned from all the time he has spent in the sun. His smile was at one point quick to come, now rarely seen. But if he flashed a smile there would be several teeth missing. There is pain in his eyes, almost giving a spaced looked when given closer inspection. But even despite the missing teeth and pained look, Tim always stands tall and walks with an assured gait.
CASUAL ATTIRE:
Tim often wears tee shirts that show off his muscles. Tight shirts that come in varying colors with blue and green being his colors of choice. On top of that he likes to wear faded jeans. He will wear a pair of running sneakers, the one part of his attire that he takes great care in picking out.
JEWELRY/MARKINGS/SCARS:
There aren't very many defining markings that Tim has. But there is quite significant scaring. His entire left side of his face is covered in scar tissue. It isn't really that painful to him, but most people find the man's face horrific and choose to avoid him all together instead of having to look the man in the face.
| I guess this world no longer needs heroes. Timothy Royce |
STRENGTHS:
Tim was almost uncannily able to inspire people from an early age. Anytime he talked, people listened. He oozed charisma , which helped him in the many endeavors of his life. As a soldier his natural charisma meant a quick rise through the ranks and a position leading men. Something he had also done as a Quarterback for his local football team.
Being a Quarterback and then a soldier would unsurprisingly lead to quite a fit body. Tim's body was no exception. Even after his days in the military the one part of himself that he never let go was his body. On average the man could run a mile in just under seven minutes.
With high expectations one must have high amounts of determination. Becoming what people expected of him wasn't easy. It required massive amounts of work, and some people would have probably quit long before he did. Tim wasn't naturally gifted at anything. Only through sheer determination did he become the man that lead the Football team to State. Or the soldier that braved enemy fire for his men.
WEAKNESSES:
Sometimes the way you are raised shapes the things that make you. Tim was no exception. His parents pushed him hard, and expected certain things from an early age. To his parents Tim was a chance for success that they had all but missed out on. As he grew older this craving for the spotlight became an almost driving goal in his life. He had to be the one people talked about, had to be the only person people cared about.
But being the center of attention wasn't enough, he had to be told he was doing things correctly. Even when he was in the military Tim strove only to hear people tell him he had done a good job. It was a burning desire, sometimes he couldn't even sleep at night thinking he had somehow not acheived some greatness because someone had not achlowdged the feat he had preformed.
FEARS:
Thunder : Sometimes our fears are irrational. Surely somewhere there is a psychologist that understands exactly why we fear things. But Tim is not one of those people. For as long as he could remember Thunderstorms terrified him. He couldn't sleep if it was storming, and could hardly function as long as the sound of Thunder echoed outside.
Failure : While not as great as his fear of Thunder, Tim was afraid of Failure. He pushed himself so hard to achieve what others expected of him that the thought of failing chilled him to the bone.
PERSONALITY:
Tim was normally the kind of guy you looked up to. Hardworking, Charismatic, just generally all around likeable. He tried hard to please everyone, to be the person people wanted him to be. He would greet every situation with a smile and hoped to get a smile from people in return. He didn't ask for much, just for attention and recognition. Was that to much to ask?
Unfortunatly not everything was super sunny in Timville. He was extremely insecure, extremely selfish and at times a little petty. If he was offered a chance to further himself or help someone out he would choose himself one hundred percent of the time. This was perhaps more a product of his upbringing beyond anything else, but it was still his aproach to everything.
The Army shaped him a little differenlty. He lost his smile, and wasn't nearly as halfhearted as he used to be. Where before he had been soft spoken and polite, his words carried a kind of bitterness to them. PTSD shaped him in interesting ways to. He was detached, unable to connect to connect with people the way he before. Everything else was there, just covered by a layer of that kinda detached coldness. A numbess that slowly encroached upon all the positive and negative parts of his life.
BACKGROUND:
Timothy Alexander Royce was born the only son of Richard and Brittany Royce. His father was a factory worker who worked long days and was home long enough for a nap before he left to do his second job as a Janitor at the local power company. His Mother was a Cashier at the local grocery store. Neither of them were around very much when he was young, but when they were there they spoiled him greatly. Constantly his parents would lavish him with praise and gifts, attempting to put the life they never had upon their only son.
As he grew the praise and gifts only increased. His parents had an agenda when it came to their son, and it was never really clear to Tim what that was. He was enrolled into football as soon as he was old enough to play. His father had him throwing balls at the age of five. He was awful at it at first. But instead of receiving any kind of criticism his every throw was praised. When he improved he was given gifts and thanked for his improvement.
His parents molded him into the person they wanted and upon reaching High school he was an immediate success. He became Quarterback his sophomore year, replacing the outgoing Senior that year. His time on the team lead the school to back to back State appearances. Unfortunately they never won. Both times in the fourth quarter there had been a chance for his team to win. And both times he had thrown a pass just a little to short.
When it was time to come to picking a college Tim was faced with the first reality check of his life. His grades had not been that great, and he was not offered any kind of scholarship. For the first time his parents were disappointed in him. And the people of his small town seemed to begin to turn away from their little hero that had lead their football team to state twice.
Joining the army had been kind of a desperate move. He had seen a few people join before him, and everyone of them had been celebrated when they had. So he enlisted, and when the town and his parents found out they turned out in droves to celebrate the courage that he had. His parents were happy, the town cheered, everything seemed like it was going to be okay.
The army proved to be just the thing that Tim needed. He found himself independent for the first time in his life. And was finally able to realize what his parents had tried to shape him to be. He desired for nothing more then to be his own person and put all of that desire into bettering himself within the army. His first few years were rather uneventful, and he reenlisted at the first given opportunity.
Unfortunately for Tim his second enlistment was not as successful as his first. While on a patrol in Iraq his convoy encountered several IED's. He took one of the explosions almost head on. Fortunately he escaped with his life, but it left him scared badly on the left side of his face. After several months of intensive care and rehabilitation Tim was discharged from the army and allowed to return home.
He expected a heroes welcome. But the only people who showed up were his parents. They had disproving looks upon their faces and spoke not a single word as they drove their now disfigured son home. This silence continued, as his parents only spoke a few times when they absolutely needed to. Once again he had let his parents down.
Tim tried to reconnect with his old friends from high school. But most of them had moved away. Those that hadn't wouldn't even speak to him. While he had been in the army a new hot kid had come through the high school and the Football team had actually won State. No one talked about his accomplishments anymore, and no one would even greet him on the streets. People actively went out of their way to avoid him, the sight of his scarred face a reminder of the pointless war.
To make matters worse Tim was suffering from PTSD. The nearest VA hospital was four hours away, and Tim had trouble driving the distance alone. Without any friends he was barely able to get out there, and was unable to get much treatment for his new condition. He tried to work, but a combination of his scars and his PTSD made holding down a job impossible.
A year of that took a toll on Tim. And he felt that there was no reason for his existence to burden his parents anymore. Here he was twenty-eight years old and unable to even afford his own place. He had enough, no longer did he want those sideways glance, or people crossing the street to avoid them. He took shotgun from his father's gun cabinet, wrote a note to his parents apologizing for being such a failure. And that very night Tim ended his life, so that he could finally escape the terrible hand life had given him.
WRITING SAMPLE:
Thom was fidgeting in front of the mirror, a slight look of disgust plastered across his face. He was clad in his superhero outfit, and the thing still didn't really scream super hero to him. Practically he wore almost all black, to make himself harder to see in the dark. Here and there on his suit were lightning bolts, a motif that ran through out the black ensemble. For the most part though, Thom looked like a man wearing black, that was about it. Unfortunately it was rather hard to create a superhero identity and keep it secret if you needed to go out and buy a costume. So what he had would have to work, even if he would find himself staring at it in the mirror night after night.
"Going out again tonight?" His brother Garret asked as he walked up behind Thom. Garret looked a lot like Thom, except perhaps a little older. When they were kids people would often confuse the two of them, despite the two year age gap. Garret had a cup of coffee in his hand, and Thom greedily accepted it. If he was going to be fighting crime, then he was going to need his caffeine. Thom quickly checked over his gear and mentally cataloged everything. He had his body armor on, the kind that was standard issue to police officers. At his side was his taser, and Thom checked it's status. The Taser held two charges before the cartridge would have to be replaced. Thom never liked having to replace the cartridge in a fight, and preferred to limit himself to just the two charges unless absolutely necessary.
"I have to Garret," He responded, a sense of conviction in his voice. Even if his crime fighting was still rather low level, Thom never truly felt alive unless he was doing good for the city. It had been the reason he had became a police officer all those years ago, and still remained his motivation. Satisfied that he was as ready as he could be, Thom finally turned away from the mirror. Waiting near the door was his daughter Soz, a look of accusation glinting in her eyes. If Garret was the voice that pushed him to be greater, Soz was the voice that kept him grounded. Thom crossed over to his daughter and squatted down until he was exactly eye level.
"Be safe," She whispered in his ear as she almost tackled him to the ground with a hug. Thom couldn't help but accept his daughter's love, and merely shrugged to his brother as he passed the girl off to him.
"Don't worry, Thunderclap is always the paragon of safety!" Thom didn't really believe that, but he said it to his daughter every night before going out anyway. With everything done, he slipped his mask on, and slid out the door. This was one of those times that owning a small PI firm had its advantages. Thunderclap was able to slip onto the streets without so much as a hint to where he came from. Once his feet hit pavement Thom began off in a random direction. He hardly ever went the same way twice, wanting to spread his goodwill to as much of the city as possible.
Thunderclap had been patrolling for about an hour when he heard the gun shot. His patrol that night had taken him into gang territory, a place he was rather familiar with. His time on the force had been fought with dealing with these types of criminals, and since becoming Thunderclap he had a encounter or two with them. This night would be no different, he just hoped that he could arrive in time. Thunderclap sprinted toward the direction of the shot, and took every opportunity to get off the main road for better cover.
It didn't take that long for him to get there, perhaps five minutes at most. Once there Thom stopped at the corner of an alleyway, and peeked around toward the source of the noise. Gangbangers alright, and quite a few of them to. He mentally took account of the men and their available weapons, before preparing himself to launch into combat. "Stop!" He finally yelled as he stepped out of the shadows and attempted to make himself look a little bigger then he really was.