Bad Cop
Switch
"They say the soul don't die, but mine's been dead for my whole life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything."
THEME (Explicit lyrics)
Name: Isaias Kehoe (Eye-sai-ahs Kee-hoh)
Alias(es): Keva Avison (Kee-vah Av-eye-son; commonly used when in a female form), Jacinto Moneaux (Jah-cin-toh Mah-noh; used when necessary/neutral)
Nicknames: Switch, Bad Cop (better known as the latter)
Age: 167
Sex: Male
Orientation: Bisexual
Species: Shi’ido
Force sensitive: No
Appearance: Varies. Commonly takes on the appearance of a teenaged male with a somewhat tan complexion, dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. Standing at 6’2” and 149 lbs with a wiry frame with no visible musculature, the underestimation of others at a glance isn’t an uncommon thing. It’s something worked to his advantage in most situations, but when times call he won’t hesitate to take on another form.
Faction: Independent (Bad Company)
Rank: Mercenary/soldier
Strengths:
+ Shapeshifter. This comes with obvious positives, as he’s able to change his form at a whim in order to avoid detection and the complications that come with it. When it comes to working with and around criminals, it’s an ability almost necessary to his survival, given the dangers that inherently follow an individual who claims the criminal underworld as the closest thing to home.
+ Trained in a number of combat arts, he makes a deadly foe to take on in most any battle environment. From unarmed combat to the more efficient sort with blasters and weapons similar, it’s safe to say that he knows his way around a brawl. After all, he wouldn’t have survived for over a century if he didn’t have some efficient method of survival.
+ Despite some of his personality traits that might cause some to assume him a callous individual, he’s generally good-natured and easy to get along with.
Middle ground:
+/- Moral nihilist. Essentially, he believes that morals are a creation of what sentient beings there are in the galaxy, and thus doesn’t put much of a meaning to whether something happens to be right or wrong. As such, he has no qualms with doing whatever may be necessary to survive or otherwise complete a job successfully. Some might call this attitude impractical or otherwise amoral as a whole, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but he doesn’t see an issue with it. After all, the only reason others are so hinged on it being wrong is because they were taught those views by society.
Weaknesses:
- Conditioned to accept horror. Desensitized to the horrific or traumatic things in his everyday life. While a benefit or a detriment depending on the situation, it’s essentially a bad thing as it allows him to be altogether indifferent to the horrors and sufferings that effect both him and others about him in daily life. While yes, it may be a strength in certain situations, ultimately it leads to a lack of empathy or feeling when it comes to the horrific trials that others have undergone to get them to where they are today.
- Deaf in his left ear. This has rather obvious limitations, given that he likely won’t hear anything said to him if a person happens to be standing on his left side, meaning he could miss anything from important information significant to his current assignment to the next retort in a conversation.
- Dyslexic. Self-explanatory, really, but it drastically effects his ability to read written instructions and otherwise read things out loud, along with being detrimental on his ability to write as a whole.
Other:
* Sarcasm blind. Doesn't understand sarcasm. While something of a minor thing, it still impedes his ability to participate in some conversations, as he simply can’t grasp the concept of sarcasm as a whole. It can also double as a minor annoyance to others, depending on the company.
Bio:
It would be wrong to say that Isaias had an especially wonderful childhood, but in the respects of the greater galaxy, his situation could have been much worse. Born on the home planet of the Shi’ido, Lao-mon, and raised there for a time, he was taught to harness his shapeshifting abilities at a young age. As soon as he was able to walk, to be exact. Just as with others of his species, the changes were small at first, a tweak of his skin color or the changing of his physique into something resembling your average near-human. Soon enough he managed to develop what is now his preferred form, an appearance taken on most every day by him. It’s something that comes as easily as breathing, and is, for all intents and purposes, his default for the majority of situations.
At the age of thirty he left these familiar surroundings and traded them for exploration of the greater galaxy, as many of his species are wont to do. Witnessing such a variety of culture and individuals was nothing short of fascinating to him, and it was then he decided that no matter what profession he found himself in, traveling was something he wanted to experience more of. There was simply too much to see in the galaxy for him to consider otherwise. And so he set out to find just what was available to him while still abiding by that single innocent stipulation. Unfortunately, not many of the venues that presented themselves promised to sate that sense of adventure and wanderlust that inhabited his very core. That is, until the military found him. Or rather, he found the military itself.
The cause in and of itself wasn’t a concern so much as what he would see. Certainly he did eventually grow to believe in the ideals of the Republic, and fought for them with some sort of dedication, but unlike others that wasn’t his sole motivation. He took to the training easily and quickly, and while there most definitely was difficulty that forced him to adapt quickly to his surroundings or suffer the consequences, he found a niche of his own there. Through challenge and trial he found himself, seeming to flourish in the harsh environment of his basic training. During these times he made a few close friends and other acquaintances, learning to collaborate with others and rely on himself when there wasn’t anyone around to support him. More than anything it was a lesson of just what he was capable of, and it allowed him to learn his own limits intrinsically.
When it came to the literal battlefield, he learned quickly how simple basic training had been in comparison. The camaraderie of the others he fought alongside was the only thing keeping him functioning some days, and for that he became deeply thankful. However, those bonds were changed when the six went on a mission and only three returned. Never did those remaining heal completely from the incident, though they did their best to bring things back to normal, attempting to crack the same jokes. But the smiles were forced, the laughs no longer genuine. It was through this he truly discovered his core values, what he placed above all else as a person. Some of that caring and empathy was numbed out, if only to prevent him from feeling that same loss over again. If there was one thing he hadn’t been prepared to deal with, it was that.
Still, he stayed on for a time, trying to fix and find himself once again, his views forever changed by that one event. But no soldier can remain stoic and strong forever, and he was dishonorably discharged years later, having gone off on increasingly errant paths in order to eliminate all threats to the Republic. Despite the experiences that he had in military life, he knew that it was something he was good at. At that point in time he couldn’t say he enjoyed it necessarily, but he was self-aware enough to know that it was where his primary skill lay. So he decided to take on work as a freelancer, the proper term among galactic citizens being mercenary, and just being in the business sufficed. Finding himself on the battlefield again fighting for varying sides did come as a shock in the beginning, and it took him time to adapt once again. But he managed, at the very least.
An incident that took place on one of the many combat zones was the cause of his loss of hearing in his left ear, damaging the organ beyond the patching of even his ability to mold and shape his own countenance and form. But he didn’t deign to replace it with any cybernetic, choosing it as a reminder of all that he’d been through in his life. It would serve to show him that no matter who he was or claimed to be, he would always be a soldier and a fighter at heart. Some days such a symbol was unsavory, the last thing he needed being something stubbornly present that served to prod at him and show all that he’d suffered. Others he took it as a badge of pride, of his own survival and ability to change for better or worse in any situation. Still it remained obstinate, a constant no matter what circumstance he was in, and for it he was both thankful and resentful.
Still today he remains involved in the mercenary world, sometimes more so than others, but it’s one of few things that have stayed constant.
Roleplays (in roughly IC chronological order):
The Gateway