Post by Francis York Morgan on Nov 28, 2010 19:56:57 GMT -8
Name: FBI Special Agent Francis York Morgan. Just call me York, everyone calls me that.
Occupation/Skills: I always include my occupation when introducing myself, but I don't mind repeating it. It's good to have pride in one's job.
Occupation: FBI Special Agent.
Skills: I specialize in criminal behavioral profiling and investigating the murders of young women. Aside from that, I don't think there's much else to brag about. Zach, on the other hand... Well, I wouldn't want to embarrass him with too much praise. He's a little shy.
Personality: Zach, how should we word this? I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. First impressions are terribly important, especially to a profiler. You can tell someone's life history from a single twitch of an eyelash. Even though this is just a written application, do you think whoever's reading this will be sharp enough to notice the subtle details? For example, I cross my T's in a way that suggests a strong aversion to pork and beans. Zach, you tend to slant the upper registers. The Forensic Document Examiner at the Bureau said that was an indication of below-average self-estee- Oops, sorry, Zach. ...Maybe I shouldn't have used a pen to fill this out.
If I had to describe myself in discreet terms, I would say I'm someone who truly enjoys his work and has his own way of doing things. I'm probably not what you'd call a "team player". Zach is really the only partner I need while on assignment, even though my boss Bob Abrahams is always trying to play Agent Matchmaker with me. Some people have told me they don't agree with my methods; apparently they think I'm being rude or something. Unfortunately it's not really my job to be polite, just as murderers refuse to observe society's laws. A disturbing comparison, but maybe that's why I'm so good at catching them.
Off-duty, though, you might find me more engaging, especially if you love movies as much as Zach and I. The 80's were a great time for film buffs, but any decade will do; I can't really afford to be picky since I became a Federal agent. I barely have enough time to sit through the trailers. I'm also very fond of coffee and cigarettes, both of which have astounding applications unfamiliar to the layman, as well as good food... Although truth be told, I will eat pretty much anything. Like my taste in movies, I take what I can get.
Admitting personal shortcomings is always hard, but I have to confess, I don't get on very well with women. Zach has always a little more on the ball in that respect, but you'd have to be one exceptional lady to get it out of him!
History: THE CONTENTS AND IDENTITY OF THE AUTHOR OF THIS DOCUMENT ARE CLASSIFIED.
Subject Z (full name: Francis Zach Morgan) was born April, 1973 in Washington D.C. to Valentine and FBI agent Brian Xander Morgan. At age 7, he witnessed the death of his mother via an unidentified parasitic organism (resembling a bright red tree) growing from her stomach, which subsequently consumed her life-force and reduced her to a dried-up corpse before her son and husband's very eyes. Subject was then exposed to further trauma when Agent Xander, unable to contain his grief and guilt at being unable to protect his wife, turned his gun on himself and committed suicide. His last words to Subject Z have been recorded as follows: "Sometimes we must purge things from this world because they should not exist, even if it means losing someone you love."
The perpetrator of this particular incident is assumed to be one Forrest Kaysen, a traveling sapling salesman of unknown, possibly extraterrestrial origins. His presence at the scene of the crime has been almost completely erased from the Subject's memory due to extreme psychological trauma, causing the Subject to unconsciously develop similarly extreme mental defenses as coping mechanisms. These are as follows:
A) Creation of a second personality known as "York" to take over dominant motor and social functions, with a few exceptions. Subject regards "York" as a discreet entity, entirely separate from himself, and the two personalities are able to interact with each other on this basis. No debilitating conflict has been observed between Subject Z and "Y"- Cooperation between the two personas has been duly observed without negative effects.
B) Selective memory loss caused by the aforementioned traumatic events. Subject Z has no recollection of Forrest Kaysen's involvement with his mother's murder, neither does he acknowledge the Red Tree that caused his mother's death. Subject Z, when questioned, reconstructs the situation as an unprovoked violent act in which Agent Xander inexplicably shot and killed his mother and then himself with the same gun. Xander's final words remain preserved in this new, fabricated scenario.
This incident has not yet been disclosed to the public and is considered classified. Please see document RT-055719X-3 for details.
C) An extension of Subject Z's internal narrative causes him to self-identify as the secondary persona of the "York" persoanlity construct. In other words, Subject Z considers "York" to be the original, dominant personality to whom the events described in B) actually occurred. Subject Z then relegated himself to the position of protective construct under the dominant "York" identity.
FURTHER NOTES: Subject Z is currently employed as a field agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Behavioral Analysis Unit (NCAVC). He is a top graduate of the Academy and has undergone complete arms training at Quantico. Length of Subject's employment following promotion to Special Agent status is nine years starting 1997 (not counting two years serving in non-Agent capacities). Current assignment falls under the "Red Seeds Profile" series of unsolved homicides (see RT-655018B-5H) headed by Section Chief Robert Abraham. Subject Z due to arrive in Greenvale, WA to investigate the murder of Anna Graham.
Special Agent David Young Henning's additional presence in the area has been noted.
RP Sample: (Got carried away a bit, but it's a nice precursor to why York is a little late getting to the party. Also weird 4th wall breakage.)
York painstakingly put the finishing touches on his application and dropped it on top of his laptop, lying shut on the passenger seat of his car. Then he looked around, as if just waking up from a long dream. He was parked outside a roadside Denny's, about a hundred miles in from the middle of nowhere, and it was raining the entire biological spectrum of both the feline and canine variety. Thick sheets of water muddled the bright lights of the restaurant beyond the windshield, making it look like some hideous Impressionist painting that had been smeared beyond recognition.
York tapped the car's GPS system and frowned when it refused to respond. According to the tiny screen, he was somewhere in the vicinity of Switzerland. For all he could see outside the car, it might be true. He took his hand from the recalcitrant device and leaned back with a sigh.
"On the fritz again. First my cell phone, now this. Zach, I know they'd would probably disagree with me on this, but you'd think a fraction of taxpayers' money might be useful to an FBI agent trying to get to a murder site..."
Briefly he considered venturing the short, wet distance across the parking lot and asking for directions to Greenvale inside, but it hardly seemed worth it. Zach said they'd come this far, so they might as well keep going. They'd been facing the mountains before the rainclouds had started darkening the skies, and unless they had somehow gotten turned around 180 degrees in the last two hours, the mountains should still be where they left them. No guarantees though, he added, an afterthought grin in York's mind.
"No guarantees," York agreed. "Even something as rock-solid as a mountain can disappear if you don't keep an eye on it. Every day life is full of leaps of faith like that... We can't even be certain that the sun will rise again tomorrow. But most people wouldn't be able to cope if they didn't take those things for granted."
He turned the keys in the ignition and marveled that the rain bouncing off the hood of the car was loud enough to drown out the sound of the engine starting. Then they were off, heading into the wet, stormy night with only a sliver of the yellow dashes in the middle of the road to mark visibility.
"In contrast to the natural world, technology is such a fickle creature, Zach," he murmured, digging for his cigarettes with one hand and opening his laptop with the other, not noticing the papers he'd placed on top of it sliding to the floor under the seat. " Now everything has a computer chip, and it all works without fail maybe two times out of twenty. At least you can count on a mountain to do what it's supposed to most of the time: Sit there and look pretty, and endure the occasional reckless person climbing over it."
The laptop screen lit up at a tap from York's fingers. He kept talking around his cigarette, which he still hadn't lit. "Just like in the Eiger Sanction, 1975, directed by and starring none other than the great Clint Eastwood himself. He was a government agent in that film, just like me, except he didn't work for any branch I know of. Wouldn't want to switch places with him, anyway; killing for the Bureau doesn't sound like my idea of fun, and as meddling as Bob Abraham is, I'd rather have him as a boss than a creepy white-haired former Nazi with bulging eyes."
Nothing wrong with having white hair. It makes some people look... distinguished.
"Not Mr. Dragon! I suppose I won't have to worry about that for at least another twenty years or so, anyway. If I can handle a little thing like the sun winking out overnight, a change of hair color wouldn't be too bothersome. Right, Zach?"
Even if it turned pink?
York pretended to consider. "At least I have a suit that would match."
Their car sped on into the darkness, and the mountains waited, invisible in the downpour.
Occupation/Skills: I always include my occupation when introducing myself, but I don't mind repeating it. It's good to have pride in one's job.
Occupation: FBI Special Agent.
Skills: I specialize in criminal behavioral profiling and investigating the murders of young women. Aside from that, I don't think there's much else to brag about. Zach, on the other hand... Well, I wouldn't want to embarrass him with too much praise. He's a little shy.
Personality: Zach, how should we word this? I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression. First impressions are terribly important, especially to a profiler. You can tell someone's life history from a single twitch of an eyelash. Even though this is just a written application, do you think whoever's reading this will be sharp enough to notice the subtle details? For example, I cross my T's in a way that suggests a strong aversion to pork and beans. Zach, you tend to slant the upper registers. The Forensic Document Examiner at the Bureau said that was an indication of below-average self-estee- Oops, sorry, Zach. ...Maybe I shouldn't have used a pen to fill this out.
If I had to describe myself in discreet terms, I would say I'm someone who truly enjoys his work and has his own way of doing things. I'm probably not what you'd call a "team player". Zach is really the only partner I need while on assignment, even though my boss Bob Abrahams is always trying to play Agent Matchmaker with me. Some people have told me they don't agree with my methods; apparently they think I'm being rude or something. Unfortunately it's not really my job to be polite, just as murderers refuse to observe society's laws. A disturbing comparison, but maybe that's why I'm so good at catching them.
Off-duty, though, you might find me more engaging, especially if you love movies as much as Zach and I. The 80's were a great time for film buffs, but any decade will do; I can't really afford to be picky since I became a Federal agent. I barely have enough time to sit through the trailers. I'm also very fond of coffee and cigarettes, both of which have astounding applications unfamiliar to the layman, as well as good food... Although truth be told, I will eat pretty much anything. Like my taste in movies, I take what I can get.
Admitting personal shortcomings is always hard, but I have to confess, I don't get on very well with women. Zach has always a little more on the ball in that respect, but you'd have to be one exceptional lady to get it out of him!
History: THE CONTENTS AND IDENTITY OF THE AUTHOR OF THIS DOCUMENT ARE CLASSIFIED.
Subject Z (full name: Francis Zach Morgan) was born April, 1973 in Washington D.C. to Valentine and FBI agent Brian Xander Morgan. At age 7, he witnessed the death of his mother via an unidentified parasitic organism (resembling a bright red tree) growing from her stomach, which subsequently consumed her life-force and reduced her to a dried-up corpse before her son and husband's very eyes. Subject was then exposed to further trauma when Agent Xander, unable to contain his grief and guilt at being unable to protect his wife, turned his gun on himself and committed suicide. His last words to Subject Z have been recorded as follows: "Sometimes we must purge things from this world because they should not exist, even if it means losing someone you love."
The perpetrator of this particular incident is assumed to be one Forrest Kaysen, a traveling sapling salesman of unknown, possibly extraterrestrial origins. His presence at the scene of the crime has been almost completely erased from the Subject's memory due to extreme psychological trauma, causing the Subject to unconsciously develop similarly extreme mental defenses as coping mechanisms. These are as follows:
A) Creation of a second personality known as "York" to take over dominant motor and social functions, with a few exceptions. Subject regards "York" as a discreet entity, entirely separate from himself, and the two personalities are able to interact with each other on this basis. No debilitating conflict has been observed between Subject Z and "Y"- Cooperation between the two personas has been duly observed without negative effects.
B) Selective memory loss caused by the aforementioned traumatic events. Subject Z has no recollection of Forrest Kaysen's involvement with his mother's murder, neither does he acknowledge the Red Tree that caused his mother's death. Subject Z, when questioned, reconstructs the situation as an unprovoked violent act in which Agent Xander inexplicably shot and killed his mother and then himself with the same gun. Xander's final words remain preserved in this new, fabricated scenario.
This incident has not yet been disclosed to the public and is considered classified. Please see document RT-055719X-3 for details.
C) An extension of Subject Z's internal narrative causes him to self-identify as the secondary persona of the "York" persoanlity construct. In other words, Subject Z considers "York" to be the original, dominant personality to whom the events described in B) actually occurred. Subject Z then relegated himself to the position of protective construct under the dominant "York" identity.
FURTHER NOTES: Subject Z is currently employed as a field agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Behavioral Analysis Unit (NCAVC). He is a top graduate of the Academy and has undergone complete arms training at Quantico. Length of Subject's employment following promotion to Special Agent status is nine years starting 1997 (not counting two years serving in non-Agent capacities). Current assignment falls under the "Red Seeds Profile" series of unsolved homicides (see RT-655018B-5H) headed by Section Chief Robert Abraham. Subject Z due to arrive in Greenvale, WA to investigate the murder of Anna Graham.
Special Agent David Young Henning's additional presence in the area has been noted.
RP Sample: (Got carried away a bit, but it's a nice precursor to why York is a little late getting to the party. Also weird 4th wall breakage.)
York painstakingly put the finishing touches on his application and dropped it on top of his laptop, lying shut on the passenger seat of his car. Then he looked around, as if just waking up from a long dream. He was parked outside a roadside Denny's, about a hundred miles in from the middle of nowhere, and it was raining the entire biological spectrum of both the feline and canine variety. Thick sheets of water muddled the bright lights of the restaurant beyond the windshield, making it look like some hideous Impressionist painting that had been smeared beyond recognition.
York tapped the car's GPS system and frowned when it refused to respond. According to the tiny screen, he was somewhere in the vicinity of Switzerland. For all he could see outside the car, it might be true. He took his hand from the recalcitrant device and leaned back with a sigh.
"On the fritz again. First my cell phone, now this. Zach, I know they'd would probably disagree with me on this, but you'd think a fraction of taxpayers' money might be useful to an FBI agent trying to get to a murder site..."
Briefly he considered venturing the short, wet distance across the parking lot and asking for directions to Greenvale inside, but it hardly seemed worth it. Zach said they'd come this far, so they might as well keep going. They'd been facing the mountains before the rainclouds had started darkening the skies, and unless they had somehow gotten turned around 180 degrees in the last two hours, the mountains should still be where they left them. No guarantees though, he added, an afterthought grin in York's mind.
"No guarantees," York agreed. "Even something as rock-solid as a mountain can disappear if you don't keep an eye on it. Every day life is full of leaps of faith like that... We can't even be certain that the sun will rise again tomorrow. But most people wouldn't be able to cope if they didn't take those things for granted."
He turned the keys in the ignition and marveled that the rain bouncing off the hood of the car was loud enough to drown out the sound of the engine starting. Then they were off, heading into the wet, stormy night with only a sliver of the yellow dashes in the middle of the road to mark visibility.
"In contrast to the natural world, technology is such a fickle creature, Zach," he murmured, digging for his cigarettes with one hand and opening his laptop with the other, not noticing the papers he'd placed on top of it sliding to the floor under the seat. " Now everything has a computer chip, and it all works without fail maybe two times out of twenty. At least you can count on a mountain to do what it's supposed to most of the time: Sit there and look pretty, and endure the occasional reckless person climbing over it."
The laptop screen lit up at a tap from York's fingers. He kept talking around his cigarette, which he still hadn't lit. "Just like in the Eiger Sanction, 1975, directed by and starring none other than the great Clint Eastwood himself. He was a government agent in that film, just like me, except he didn't work for any branch I know of. Wouldn't want to switch places with him, anyway; killing for the Bureau doesn't sound like my idea of fun, and as meddling as Bob Abraham is, I'd rather have him as a boss than a creepy white-haired former Nazi with bulging eyes."
Nothing wrong with having white hair. It makes some people look... distinguished.
"Not Mr. Dragon! I suppose I won't have to worry about that for at least another twenty years or so, anyway. If I can handle a little thing like the sun winking out overnight, a change of hair color wouldn't be too bothersome. Right, Zach?"
Even if it turned pink?
York pretended to consider. "At least I have a suit that would match."
Their car sped on into the darkness, and the mountains waited, invisible in the downpour.
Emily drawing by Animagess
