 malone, cooper fitzgerald, recoil, rogue hero/barkeep
| Cooper Malone |
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Unregistered
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• HELLO, WORLD! •
• MY NAME IS... • COOPER FITZGERALD MALONE •
NICKNAME • Coop, Fitz, Malone, Recoil, Bugsy, Bug
AGE • Twenty six
SPECIES • Superhuman
GENDER • Female
OCCUPATION • Barkeep
AFFILIATION • Rogue hero
POWER • Reactive adaptation/evolution – the ability to develop a resistance or immunity to the means of any injury or attack obtained through supernatural measures. When the power is active, the user’s body will react defensively to any mutant-based “attack” made on them. This does not work in the form of developing a mental defence (eg. the ability to shield one’s mind from psionic blasts) but does in a physical defence (eg. entirely fire-proof skin to protect oneself from a fire manipulator), but like enzymes the ability is lock and key to the attack made (eg. in the previous example the adaptation would provide no defence from someone who creates fire as a run-off effect of having created an explosion, thus fights with more than one person with powers would be tricky). The power can be negated by those with power negation abilities, but can develop to most, but not all, attacks; Cooper, as such, has not yet fully tested her limits. Unfortunately, in all recorded similar cases simultaneous immunity to more than one other power is not long, if at all, sustainable.
Cooper, having had only a few years training in her abilities, can only sustain this ability for just over five or ten minutes, but can transfer her power for up to half an hour in order to protect someone else from harm. When the ability “kicks out”, she can by and large re-apply it within a few minutes, but with extensive use she will pass out (ie. after more than a few hours use). However, she cannot yet share the skill between herself and another person without passing out. Her immunity cannot be compromised as long as she can sustain it; and sustain it she can, even under high degrees of stress, for her set limit. This is sometimes longer, when she has had practice in adapting to a particular power.
When she is active, she has great control for as long as her strength holds out (because using her power siphons her body’s strength etc), and can keep going even under high levels of stress and reasonable degrees of injury. Unfortunately for Cooper, however, there is no physical manifestation of her powers which allows her to supernaturally fight back. Also, as a result, Cooper is allergic to medicines and drugs that have a similar effect to her powers, but on her body's defense system. People who are close know what to give her and what not to, but it can easily put her out.
Cooper's powers can be negated by those with power negation abilities, and by some but not all technological methods. However, her main limitation is that in order to develop an adaptation to a power, at any level or for any time, she has to let herself be hit by the power, even if she has encountered it before. Thus, she is formed to take the damage for whatever power she is hoping to develop an adaption to. Also, Coop can only hold her power for a maximum of fifteen minutes, this being when developing an immunity to kinetic energy transformation. Other immunities last between five and ten minutes depending on her prior exposure to the power. However, if Cooper wants to use her power to defend another person, the immunity can be transfered for up to half an hour before she passes out. When this happens, she cannot defend herself at the same time, and paranoid as she is she tends only to do this for someone she really cares about. But as long as the power is not psionic, for those five minutes the power is sustainable.
BIRTH DATE • 17th November 1989
BIRTH PLACE • Ennis, Ireland
HOMETOWN • Dublin, Ireland
SEXUALITY • Heterosexual • SO PLEASED TO MEET YOU • HEIGHT • 5"3
WEIGHT • 130lbs
BODY TYPE • Cooper is short for her heritage and almost pixie-like. She is incredibly curvy, with a reasonably large bust and comic-book hips, and legs that are long compared to her height. Cooper is heavily freckled, on her face, arms, midriff and neck. She also has a scar which runs from her left ear, under her jaw and to the right of her chin, and small scars on her knees and arms. The larger scar is from a fall a few years ago where she caught her neck during a fight, and the smaller ones are from the event years ago. However, she is best described as Caucasian and heavily freckled.
HAIR • Marmalade ginger in colour, and ranging between a crop and just past her shoulders depending on her mood and the need at hand, Cooper's hair can be pretty untameable at best; she often wears it loosely tied back.
EYES • Her eyes are shade of emerald green which is - ironically - found most often in the Irish. She doesn't wear a lot of makeup, but does sometimes wear black or blue eyeliner and/or mascara.
LOOKS LIKE • Amy Adams
GENERAL • At first glance, Cooper is averagely built, curvy but not overweight, largely due to her periods of “lack of funds” and her on-the-move lifestyle. She has a developed an agile niche, but is not fussy about her size or appearance (not in an arrogant manner but more so-so), usually deigning from any routine short of washing, doing her hair, and the odd intermittent period where she’ll wear basic eye makeup. Her posture varies between different company. Strangers, and people who don’t know her well, might comment that she is guarded and hard to approach, but amongst close friends she is visibly more relaxed and open, although she does retain her secrets. When around friends, she will make physical and eye contact a lot.
Cooper’s eyes are a strange very green colour, her eyebrows controllable but very animated, and her hair falls into the category of naturally-but-pleasingly chaotic. Her marmalade ginger hair has a slight curl to it, and is round about shoulder length, but she is prone to cutting it shorter when she’s in a fidgety state. She doesn't wear a lot of makeup, but does sometimes wear black or blue eyeliner and/or mascara. Her mouth is generic, and along with her eyes is incredibly expressive of her emotions - she may be guarded in history and fear, but other than that... When Cooper frowns, she gets a wrinkled between her eyebrows, when she smiles she has one dimple on her left side if she smiles broadly enough, and she is reasonably well freckled. What with the red hair, her freckles, and the slightly island-dyed skin tone, she generally personifies your stereotypical Irishman – without the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Cooper might not win a beauty pageant, not that she’d enter one in the first place, but there are those who would describe her as inimitably sexy.
Although not an official hero, Cooper does have a costume. Coop’s costume is not another story entirely, but despite her best efforts wound up being made of apple green fitted cotton, where she refuses to wear lycra, and freer to allow for any physical changes in relation to her adaption. Her top half has short sleeves, her black, cloth fingerless gloves coming up to about three inches up her wrists (looking somewhat like arm warmers), and the bottom half of her ‘leotard’ tapers to shorts at the bottom, open at the legs, with bare feet or if the need calls for it green knee length boots. It also cuts in at the waist, baring some skin but not much at either side and the small of her back. Her mask ties behind her head with plenty of fabric to spare and is black like her gloves. She tends not to fight with weapons and is thus not hampered by any need to store these, but wears fitted and hidden Kevlar when ‘in battle’. Cooper also wears a black belt around her waist with a clasp not unlike the road sign for a one way round in middle. Additionally, her visual style reflects her desire for comfort, usually in the form of a casual, often colourful, jeans and tops. Cooper prefers not to wear socks, and usually wears flip-flops, and is particularly fond of fingerless gloves. • FIRST IMPRESSIONS ARE TOUGH • LIKES • Alcohol (especially whiskey), coffee, sci-fi, contemporary rock, mystery/crime fiction, stripes, justice, playful banter, awkward places to sleep. heights, a good book, being able to trust someone, kids. playing “dress up”
DISLIKES • Being compromised, meeting new people, the rain, romance novels, politics, people, to an extent, excessively noisy or packed areas, needles, medicine, doctors, or anything else medical related, racism/mutantism/sexism… etc, experimentation/testing, war
FEARS • Claustrophobia, Clinophobia (fear of beds), Udrargyophobia (fear of medicine), Mild xenophobia (fear of new people)
GOALS • Getting over her trauma, developing as much of an immunity as humanely possibly
GENERAL • Cooper is first defined as witty, easily sarcastic and/or snarky, unsubtle and with an anarchist streak. Armed with a comeback for any comment or jibe, her hard will is extremely difficult to break, and she is wary and untrusting of those whom she doesn’t know (hence her previous position as a security guard, before her alibi was compromised etc). She is, to the most, independent, and Cooper will come down hard on anyone, especially allies or young people, that she comes across expressing racist, sexist or anti-mutant beliefs (for example) but as long as you stay on her right side then she is an affectionate – and sometimes flirtatious – friend, ally, and listener. Not to mention she can usually take a joke. However, the Coop that you will first meet is incredibly neurotic, and has been known to shirk the company of people she doesn’t know, keeping herself to herself and untrusting among people she doesn’t know well to the extent that she often cannot even sleep in a bed, instead having to move around and keep herself separate, even if this means sleeping on a sofa or table.
Cooper Malone is very warm and patient with young children, and approachable by the older X-Children who she “bunks” with when she needs a safe house, and is therefore sometimes approached rather than others despite the comments spread about her strange behaviour. She genuinely cares for other people regardless of her trace of resentment towards her past treatment, and is insanely loyal to a T. Although gifted with an Irish strong tolerance for drink (with a particular love of whiskey and a skill in making drinks) – as well a surprisingly high pain limit – she is an affectionate drunk, as well as by some miracle a morning person. However, you’re not likely to see her functional after 11pm without a strong coffee at hand; without it, her acerbic side becomes hyperbolic.
Despite all of this, there is a side of Cooper that is exuberant to hide her underlying fear. Recoil, so codenamed unceremoniously one night for her power, fears – like most mutants – losing her powers, but also ironically has strong Iatrophobia (fear of doctors), Aichmophobia (fear of needles) and Hydrargyophobia (fear of medicines); her sub-conscious and immune system does not like outside interference in the same way as her power works even though such vaccinations etc are not generally mutant related. The experimentation done on her in her past contributes to this feeling as well. Also, if Cooper were to lose someone close to her or have something happen to someone else that she felt was her fault, she would never forgive herself, and she often has difficult controlling her anger. She has a fighter’s spirit, knowing that she cannot be neutral.
• YOUR PARENTS ARE CHARMING • PARENTS • Gordon Malone: father, mutant from whom her powers partially stem, deceased
Annie O'Shea: mother, electrokinetic mutant, deceased
David Malone: half brother of Gordon, surrogate father until the age of fifteen of Cooper
SIBLINGS • n/a
PETS • n/a
HISTORY • Annie O'Shea and Gordon Malone met, rather unceremoniously, in the fruit and vegetable aisle of Ennis supermarket. Annie, a particularly short woman, couldn't reach the tomatoes on the top shelf, and Gordon gave her a foot up, resulting in a spill of tomatoes in the neighbouring aisle. Once they'd apologized to the police and cleaned up the mess Gordon offered to take the distraught Annie out for lunch, and when Gordon's car broke down they ended up having tomato soup at his apartment. Three months later, Gordon asked Annie to marry him, and they were trying for a child. The only problem was, every time that they thought they were successful, Annie had a miscarriage, or it was a false alarm, or something else got in the way, and so when the pregnancy test was tested positive again Gordon took every measure to protect his wife, using his own mutant powers to protect her womb, and nine months later little Cooper came into the world kicking and screaming. For the second time in their lives, it was love at first sight.
A written error by Gordon in his excitement had Cooper Malone - the name they had chosen for a son - written down instead of Caroline Malone, but neither parents were fussed. They decided, which was just as well for Cooper who grew rather fond of her boy's name being a tomboy herself, that it was quirky and reminiscent of the bizarre birth in the back of a taxi on the way to Dublin powered by Annie's telekinesis and with Gordon's powers yet again. Cooper was a perfectly normal child, with a tendency to climb things and out of her cot, and she loved the park. Which was, ironically, where she was the day that David Malone, Gordon's half brother, picked her up from the park instead of her mum and dad after her playdate. Annie and Gordon had been killed in a collision with the family car and a truck, and Cooper had been willed to the only other mutant in their close family in order to protect her from the rising mutant hatred. David took Cooper across the sea to Chicago, Illinois.
With no memory of her parents, it was Uncle David that Cooper grew close to as she grew up, keeping her Irish accent through his own as he taught her how to speak properly and in Gaelic as well as English, and raised her bundled away from human society. Although her childhood was otherwise normal, she was brought up unaware of human society and amongst mutants, under the impression that everyone had powers like the ones her Uncle had told her she would develop but chose not to use them unlike the gypsies and mutant refuges she lived with. It wasn't until David went missing when Cooper was fifteen that her rising suspicions were proved true, and she went into care and learnt that she was, as the other children put it, a freak. Not that she considered herself a freak, no, far from it; the powers which had reared their head when she turned ten kept her protected from other mutant attacks, and she embraced them with open arms. They even took her out of care, when a mutant school back in Britain, the Westminster Academy, who harboured mutants took her under their wings and taught her how to control her powers better.
While at the Westminster Academy, Cooper inherited an unlikely love of alcohol. She grew close as well to a student who had just graduated who smuggled alcohol into the school, and Cooper, experimenting, soon learned of her love of the drink and a strong tolerance, bordering on the line of addiction but hiding it from her teachers. At the age of twenty, she left the Institute and moved to Scotland, studying business and drink management, earning a license to open a bar and sell drinks before moving back to Ireland and preceding to open her own little bar, Shamrock's, in the outskirts of Dublin, putting her hero life aside for the best part and only engaging in minor vigilante activities when something threatened her city. Those antics became a local gimmick, an occasional paragraph in the paper that didn’t catch very many people’s eyes, and that was that, and that was how Cooper liked it – since she had not realised until six years ago that she was abnormal, after all, the chance to live normal no matter how much she respected the mutant world and her own abilities was a pleasant one. She was even close to engagement, to a one Symon Coben, before realising he was a mutant hater and breaking it off.
At the age of fourteen, however, the epidemic, the disease had broken out, even spreading so far as the wonderful Irish town of Ireland. To this day, Coop isn’t entirely sure what it was that brought the disease to her immediate attention – was it the disappearance and supposed death of her surrogate father one night, the quarantine put on the nearby cities, or the strange mutations that a friend developed, causing him to strike her with shards of ice which, after the first instantly freezing impact on her throat that would leave a lifelong scar, did not hurt her at all? As the ‘mutant’ or ‘superhuman’ side-effects of the infection became common knowledge, it soon became known that Cooper wasn’t affected by the strange uncontrollable spasms of the other people affected. In fact, for a short stretch of time it became clear that she could stand in front of the most dangerous of mutations and only gain an initial scratch from them. This attribute was taken advantage of in a manner she was fine with, in helping freaked out people into safety. Locally, of course. Cooper was one of those lucky ones who managed to stay under the radar.
Because of the reactive adaptation, while the British government was busy cleaning up its screw-up and checking on what had happened to who, another group of scientists emerged who were very interested in the mutations, and they decided that her powers were a weapon they could utilize as a weapon themselves. Taking her incognito in the night, the group of scientists began experiments, not only on her but on other curious cases, trying to isolate the relevant gene and use it. Escaping after two years of experimentation and imprisonment Cooper went on the run, this time a little more world-learned and able to fend for herself. She kept herself to herself, having come out of the lock up with a severe neurotic streak and a complete inability to form relationships or trust anyone. In these years, she developed a name for herself, allowing her to hide behind this alibi where her identity had not been widely spread before. And so Immunity was born, as people slowly learnt of her but not properly of what she could do and the neurotically scarred mutant kept herself to herself, fighting for justice in a vigilante-like manner if she came across scuffles but otherwise staying under the radar and scared.
• AND WHO'S YOUR FRIEND? • YOUR NAME [color=gainsboro]• Cookie
CONTACT • Raptor stalks me the.redjay@hotmail.com
CANON? • No
OTHER CHARACTERS • n/a
MEMBER TITLE • [luck] of the IRISH
RP SAMPLE •
| QUOTE | Every bit of Roda’s essence that made some kind of claim on her life and existence was screaming at her to stop, not to scream, to bow her head and kiss Rassilon’s feet so that she could live to fight another day. Except for the part of the Time Lady that called her The Redjay, and clung to the very fabric of the woman’s being and refused to be hidden under anybody’s chameleon arch, grandiose plans be damned! In fact, that part was so stubborn as to not let go and to convince Roda that screaming for her life, or to attract some kind of attention that might make Rassilon less willing to kill her with his bare hands, was so prominent that one might have thought that it, like in the case of The Master’s drums, The Rani’s lust for experiments, and The Doctor’s need to run and keep running, had taken over. The one flaw in that plan was that every part of Roda wanted to fight, in it’s own way, and although some were trying to stave off an inevitable disaster they were still coaxing her with the promise that she could find answers another way, could come back here once all the fuss had died down, or that Rassilon and Omega might even see fit to spill the means some time soon. Not one part of her essence was willing to be submissive forever and ever amen, no. Even arched back one thousand odd years, she could have told you that, anyone who knew as The Redjay could tell you that, as well as few like Rassilon and Omega, and people like K’anpo Ripoche who had known about her obsession with Robin Hood back when she was just a Time Tot and had put up with her falling asleep in multiple lectures.
The long and short of the matter was that the dominant half of Roda just didn’t know when to quit, and had never been inclined to take shit, or advice, from anyone, least of all a Time Lord like Rassilon who could well and truly make her blood boil like no other man. Supposedly it was the extreme clash of personalities that did it, or maybe it was the fact that their opinions on pretty much everything to do with life, the universe and everything were so starkly dissimilar that one of them may as well have come from an alternate dimension. Whatever their problem was it resulted in the kind of friction that no amount of sandpaper, metaphorical or otherwise, was ever going to improve upon, and it would be better if they just never had to look at each others’ faces again… Unfortunately for that plan Roda was what some people would call a noble public menace and Rassilon was partly in charge of the public that Roda was a menace of. For as long as he considered her the Bane of Gallifrey, their paths were going to keep on crossing, and sparks were going to keep on flying. It would be better if Roda could just fly off into the stars and never return to Gallifrey, but then again, with the tag on her TARDIS… That wasn’t going to happen in a hurry, was it? A little voice in Roda’s head told her she should be furiously missing the Merry Men back in Sherwood Forest, and her son Robin in Cardiff, and so many more people and places, but they were no longer a part of her conscious history, and the holes where they should have been were letting her common sense leak out and suspicion seep in.
And then the scream that she made in response to… Whatever it was she thought she was doing, be it preserving herself or simply irking Rassilon, was cut off by the force of a thumb and the small of his hand pressing down against her pharynx with far more pressure than anyone’s thumb and hand should ever press down with. The sound was cut off not because she willed it to, but because her voice box and any oxygen in her lungs was being held back with nowhere else to go, and after a few seconds of righteous indignation and shocked stillness Roda could see a supernova in front her eyes of blinking stars, fuzzy lights from the consoles surrounding them, and walls that were all of a sudden far too close for comfort, all of them reeling her in faster than a fish on a hook. The longer his hand remained in place over the hose-like contours of her slim throat (or, at least, slim by the standards of a man like Rassilon who was give or take a foot and a few inches taller than Roda was), the more hazy her vision seemed to get to the point where the black abyss of unconsciousness was starting to present itself as a rather welcome reprise, and she found herself focusing on every word which Rassilon sent her way with angry determination just to have something to do other than choke. With the pulse in his hand beating against her racing heart beats against her skin, she wondered – was he going to kill her now? By the time he was discussing the reason why she had been able to find any records of births and regenerations in the Looming Houses and why he really didn’t give a damn about her – which, she had to admit, actually was a little hurtful even for the incredibly anarchist Roda who claimed she didn’t give a damn about what anybody thought of her – she had slipped from her position firmly planted on her feet to one knee.
Instead, she was in a pose as though she was about to be knighted (as if!) and finally down to both knees, now physically hanging from Rassilon’s hand. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and she the hands she had raised to his fist in an effort to push it off of her throat slipped down one, then the other, while she concentrated on trying to get in shallow breaths. Oh, there were one hundred and one things that she wanted to respond to Rassilon’s excuses and answers with, but she was so desperate to breathe again that she was willing to accept anything he said as fact, even if he suddenly decided to explain to her that he was really a unicorn. And everyone knew the unicorns had died out on the planet of Hydropellica Hydroxi – the last race to become extinct before the inhabitants of the planet turned to cannibalism. Telling Roda that he was a unicorn would have been something to flabbergast her a few minutes ago, but there wasn’t much more that her lungs could take before the lack of oxygen to her brain had her seeing unicorns instead of stars. In her racing thoughts, Roda even saw water, everywhere around her. If she’d been possessed of her full memory capacity, she would remember her second regeneration – death by drowning. Suffocation was an awfully similarly unpleasant way to go. Half hanging where she was and with a little extra air afforded her, Roda kicked out with all the desperation of a dying animal or a man with his neck in a noose. Which in a way, Roda was. She was only glad she’d taken the mask off, because it would have been much easier to cut off her air supply with elastic than his skin.
And then he loosed his hand, just a little bit, and after gasping in a breath of air which burnt her gullet all the way down to her lungs and put too much stress on where his hand still pressed against her freckled skin, the brunette managed to rasp out a comeback. Oh no, she couldn’t help herself, even if she still couldn’t help herself and was fairly certain that if this was a cartoon then she would have been as blue as the Earth sky by now. Gallifrey’s sky was red, which on Roda’s face, right now, would have been a start improvement. She had a funny feeling that if she lived to see the next day then she was going to both regret and feel the bruises and her behaviour in the morning. ”My misery? Why, Lord Rassilon,” Notice, in Roda’s pain and fear, the abrupt and uncharacteristic final use of his official title, ”I’m having so much fun.” Yeah, yeah, in hindsight Roda began to wonder if that was a sentence which would earn her another hand around her throat, or maybe a punch in the face. Maybe Rassilon had a handy sock drawer that he could stuff her body into when he was done, so that it could be found later on and debated about over a cup of tea and some sweetened words. She eyed the wall warily – that could very easily hurt, if she found herself thrown, by the throat, at it like a farmer growing tired of a chicken that keep trying to catapult itself over the wall. In fact, hadn’t there been an Earth movie about just that?
”I am not going. Do with me what you like, I am not going.” As Rassilon finally let Roda drop, taking his hand away from her throat as though it suddenly disgusted him to have had to touch her, she slumped properly to her knees, levelling her body against straightened arms and a pair of palms pressed against the cold ground. Taking in oxygen as though it was manna from the heavens or the sweetest nectar of them all she looked up at Rassilon with a snarl on her lips and a quiver in her voice. Both of her emotions fighting each other for a position and a chance to be heard and crossing the finish line at the same time. Hopefully borrowing a line from Chief Sitting Bull wouldn’t prove to be her final words, like it had his, but it sounded pretty damn badass as it was. And badass was good, in an amusing way if suicidal in a literal way; Roda was hoping the pro balanced out the con. And of course she wasn’t going to ‘run along’ as he so insultingly put it, but luckily for Rassilon she didn’t have the air in her body to scream again. As it was she had enough trouble dragging herself to her feet to look him in the eye to quote the ancient Indian chief. Or if we’re going to get technical, look him in the chest, then crane her neck backwards so to gain a little dignity and look him in the eye. Rassilon be damned, a little height would’ve been helpful about now. ”You’re very tall. Shame your, ah,” Roda coughed, ”Other anatomy isn’t so big.” |
[/size] this application was made by ella of rpg underground. do not steal this. that would be mean and against the law, and why bother going to jail when she is very graciously giving it up for grabs? all you have to do is keep this little tag-y thing on. really, it's not worth it. |
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| lyanna wilder |
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' got the swagger of a champion
Group: royal flush admin
Posts: 376
Member No.: 5
Joined: 15-December 08
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 hey, sorry! basically, without a currently played finch, i feel uncomfortable accepting the history proposed. everything but
her interaction with the flush is okay - maybe she's just clashed
with them on the field, her being a rogue hero, and we can discuss
her history with finch if/when we get one played?
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| lyanna wilder |
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' got the swagger of a champion
Group: royal flush admin
Posts: 376
Member No.: 5
Joined: 15-December 08
|
 welcome back!
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come and play 
We take the scene to the metropolis that is London, England. The human population has begun to increase again, but so have the superpowered subspecies: powers have errupted even in the young, born to powered parents, with no disease to usher it on. This has given rise to a modern tale of heroes and villains: for the powered among us are just as corruptable as the rest.
accepting canons and originals, always and forever.
we are in need of all team-mates, as well as other open canons.
LONDON, 2015
JULY - HOT AND DRYOUR PROMO
fast forward feature 
lost in the woods 
breaking news 
current;; westminster academy students, teachers and volunteers have gone to scotland for a camping 'holiday' - avoiding hase, much?
coming soon;; keep your eyes peeled, lovelies!
gossipfolks.com;;
little miss slander's revealed something really rather important to h.a.s.e
dirty talk? 
large & incharge 
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