[App]lication

[square_peg_round_hole]

player information.

name: Aya
are you over 18?: Yes
personal dw: N/A, LJ is disposableninja
email/msn/aim/plurk/etc: disposable_ninja [at] hotmail [dot] com / AIM: Anryuu Nata / Plurk: trilobite_punch
characters in abax: Ventus, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, Hanatarou Yamada


in character information.

series: Baccano!
name: Graham Specter
age: 20
sex: Male
race: Human
weight: 145 lbs.
height: 5'6"
[OPTIONAL] cause of death: N/A
canon point: 1933, say in the lull after meeting Jacuzzi and all them cool cats, and before things get complicated(er).
previous cr: N/A

history:
     He's not your typical mechanic from the early Thirties. His real career didn't launch until his meeting with an infamous mafia man known as Ladd Russo. But before and even after that, Graham Specter would still always be a mechanic. His abilities were certainly not run-of-the-mill, and he had a penchant for taking things apart. It gave him joy. It gave him peace. If there was one thing he could say with all honesty that he loved to do, it was to dismantle things.

     Things might have turned out fine if he'd been able to continue with such a lowly but simple line of employment. There was no doubting his skills, and when it came to vehicles and machinery, no parts were ever damaged during disassembly. It was an unfortunate turn for the factory, however. Business was bad, and so in an effort to stay afloat, they began to dabble in bootlegging. It struck a bad chord with Graham, so much so that he ended up reporting them. It was a dismantling of a different sort, but not something that quite satisfied him the same way as the physical process. This realization did not come until later, when his path finally crossed that of Ladd Russo.

     A meeting of chance, of fate, whichever have you, Graham Specter relished it. It was like a new beginning for him, a new chapter in his oh so twisted story.

     Shattered and then baptized in blood. Oh did Ladd love his bloodshed. It was due to some shady dealings that Ladd was asked by his uncle to personally meet with their contacts at an automobile factory. Sending in Ladd usually meant an automatic death sentence, and the man made short work of everyone, and just as he was about to finish up, Graham inserted himself into Russo business. A dizzying and psychotic battle between the two ensued, but it soon became clear to Ladd as to what kind of a man he was dealing with. Even though it seemed that perhaps the mechanic stood a chance to the eager killer, Ladd ended their fight, and knowing he was defeated, Graham bowed his head in anticipation of death. But Ladd refrained from killing Graham when he had the chance, explaining that he did not enjoy killing those that wanted to die, but at the same time he was intrigued by Graham's violent and brash personality. It was an odd bond formed that day, and hence did Graham almost worshipfully look up to the psychotic Russo.

     Since then, Graham had become the head of his own little band of ragtag delinquents, an informal extension under the Russo Family, although all knew under which Russo the mechanic's loyalty lay. It was with much distress that he received the news of Ladd's being arrested after an incident aboard the railroad, the Flying Pussyfoot, during which Ladd had also sustained severe injury. While this in and of itself was not troubling to hear, it was the fact that someone had thrown Ladd off the train that got on his nerves. Since there was naught that could be done save but to wait for his boss's imminent return, Graham decided that in preparation of that glorious day (or perhaps it was more just a reason to cheer himself up), he and the boys would launch their newly moved criminal career in New York themselves.

     The idea soon swept in a small band not too dissimilar from themselves, also fresh arrived from Chicago. Under the leadership of one Jacuzzi Splot, they had taken refuge within one of the mansions on Millionaire's Row, as generously provided by Eve Genoard, sole heir to whatever was left of the family's fortune after unfortunate incidents with her father and brothers. Money was not so much the issue here, even though Jacuzzi had a pretty penny set on his head. Graham decided to go in a more roundabout method of things, based on the most optimum level of excitement. In the end they decided on kidnapping Eve Genoard and ransoming her. Unfortunately, when they struck, they happened to kidnap the wrong person- a strange mute girl who Jacuzzi's group had also taken under their wing after the Flying Pussyfoot incident. Feeling responsible for matters, Jacuzzi went to turn himself in to Graham and his gang as comparable payment for their ransom demands.

     Meanwhile Graham and his gang were very slowly realizing that perhaps their kidnap victim wasn't exactly who they'd expected her to be. Chane was no scared young girl, and picking a fight with the blond mechanic, Graham found things to take an unexpected albeit interesting turn. The surprises didn't end there. Jacuzzi Splot had come to exchange himself for Chane, a noble offer that even Graham had to admire, but his attention was more eager for the moment and his fight with Chane. However he had not anticipated that his actions would draw out the culprit responsible for Ladd's defeat. Claire Stanfield, previously known as Vino and the Rail Tracer ever since his stint aboard the Flying Pussyfoot had come to get Chane's answer to his marriage proposal, and he completely ignored the mechanic as he sought the mute woman's response. Angered at being completely ignored in his own warehouse, Graham engaged Vino in combat, but was outmatched for the man's agility and unable to leave a mark on him. His upset was only dampened by what became obvious to him, pointless effort, so he gave up. He decided that Ladd would be the one to deal with Vino in the end, and chose to vacate the place with his lackeys, however not without making a new friend with Jacuzzi and his group.


alternate history: N/A

personality:
     Graham leaves a very distinct if not strong impression on a person, and not with his giant monkey wrench. He has quite a way with words and seems to like hearing himself speak for all the lengthy rambles he goes on. He's quite fond of monologuing, delivering both good and bad ideals with equal flourish. He contradicts himself without care, speaking on and on about the negative aspect of something, and then at the flip of a coin will turn around and start to talk of its exact opposite. Quite rarely does he wait for if even allow comments, at least in the presence of his ragtag band of miscreants who have learned from Graham's randomness to keep their mouths shut and Not Draw Attention.

     He's a very anxious young man who can't stand still for more than a few seconds. He has a lot of nervous energy, his hands need to be kept constantly busy whether its taking something apart or wielding a wrench. Hardly is he ever seen without an oversized wrench in hand, and although quite thick and heavy, he's prone to tossing it up and down and catching it faultlessly. It's a battered and stained wrench that has obviously been used for taking apart more than automobiles. Graham's a hard person to gauge given his spontaneous behaviour. He gives no warning to his actions; he can be talking quite conversationally to you one moment, beating you senselessly the next. As far as one can tell, there's no rhyme or reason to anything he does- all completely on a whim. Given his violent tendancies, those that do have an inkling of Graham's personality tend to be more conservative in what they offer for opinions and ideas.

     Though his words can be grandiose, he has the mindset of a child, curious and sometimes even downright nosy. He also likes attention. He doesn't care if people don't make any sense of him, just so long as he has a captivated audience, and he's pretty good at holding people's attention, even if it is simply for the reason that people might wonder just how long he can go on and on about something. He compares and contrasts varying views but never is he truly dedicated to one or the other. They are choices, options, and if one thing is true for one party, then naturally the opposite will hold true for the other. Things can change at any given circumstance, but even though he will be accepting of having the short end of the stick at times, he would much rather have fun than be sad. He's quite flexible with given situations, and in the event that something so sudden and virtually unthinkable could happen, Graham will likely have to walk himself through things before he adjusts and then readjusts in order to take things in the usual stride that he does.

     Although he has a tendency to hurt people, his mind isn't so far gone that he is not able to appreciate qualities of human character. Graham is sure to take notice of unusual and strong personalities. Graham can appreciate and acknowledge smart individuals, he can be accepting of loopholes found in his own schemes and is quite flexible when things don't happen as he originally plans them to. He's very lax when it comes to the outcome of a situation, so long as he's found something to be enjoyable out of it. It changes as his moods do, like a shift in the winds.

     Yet for all of Graham's enjoyment of wonton destruction, he won't go so far as to kill anyone. Break and dislocate, perhaps, but never does he cross that line that his boss Ladd so eagerly does. For all his lack of morals, he apparently still clings solidly to one, even if his reasoning for it is completely twisted. He said it best to Ladd, once- "Life is insubstantial, so taking it brings me no joy. I don't like it. I get nothing from it except feelings of guilt, so no- it's not for me."


abilities/powers:
     Despite the rampant outbreak of immortality in his time period and city, Graham is not one of the new batch of immortals (Thankfully). He is, however, extremely durable for abuse, even after being flung against and bouncing off cars and thrown into solid walls with enough force to leave bodily impressions. He can take physical hits and still move, likely only to a certain extent, although such as one well above that expected of an average person. He also has a tendency to beat his head against hard things like walls and the sides of cars or even his wrench when lost in his moments of philosophisizing.

     He has a sharp eye paired with sharp reflexes- he's caught bullets between the teeth of his wrench and even smacked them back to be equally damaging to a person as though shot from a gun once again. Graham apparently has some considerable strength behind his otherwise normal-appearing physique, capable of bashing craters into cement with mighty blows of his oversized wrench, and he's extremely proud of his ability to be able to dismantle an automobile in the air within seconds without letting it touch the ground until it's completely torn to pieces. Yet there is also precision in his tool-wielding capabilities. No parts are ever broken unless he means for them to be, but when it comes to vehicles and machinery, he's got disassembly down to an art form.

     He's prone to hitting things with his nearly 4-foot wrench- it's his weapon of choice and not limited to striking inanimate objects. He can beat chunks out of people too. In regards to speed, while he isn't sluggish, he's not as quick as someone trained for agility; Vino can leap and dodge him quite easily because of his previous work as a circus acrobat. Graham doesn't pull off death-defying leaps nor go running up walls. What he's quick with are his reflexes, and when it comes to movement for reaction there's no hesitation.


first person sample:

Oh no...this can't be.... [The voice, but a notch above a whisper, bears a definite tone of disbelief.]

This ain't supposed to happen at all- unless a'course, this is a dream... A dream..! Yeah- that's gotta be it!

[A grin splits his face, all traces of shock vanishing in an instant.]

For who can ever fully comprehend the elements of a dream for all their make up? I see before me a cityscape unfamiliar to me, I woke up in a morgue which clearly must hide some deeper meaning dug up from the dregs of my subconscious mind! -or was it unconscious?

[Confusion crosses his cheery expression, and then he shivers as he's hit by a breeze.]

...but what if it ain't a dream? Then whoever thought they did me in sure didn't care enough to check! -although that still doesn't explain my current unusual location...


third person sample:

     It was such a dead, dead city. Oh, the lights were on, but as the saying went, no one was home. None except those that had also come by way of the morgue, a fact that Graham had only briefly wondered if it bore some significance.

     The lack of constant sound that went hand-in-hand with what one expected of a city was noticeably absent, and the silence that instead permeated the air was almost gratingly loud to him. Anxiety gnawed at him as he walked the empty streets. His fingers twitched at his side, missing that odd extension of himself that he otherwise was almost never without, a small but important detail that had upset him when he'd awoken to find himself here.

     "....I must be in hell," the blond-haired mechanic sighed, slowing to a stop in front of the window of some fancy storefront. He turned and stared at his reflection, so unusually dressed, so lacking in one giant metal wrench. Blue eyes narrowed, and he lifted his hand, pointing accusingly at the man that stared back at him through a curtain of blond bangs, pointing back.

     "-who are you? That face looks familiar, but it's all wrong. Everything's wrong..!" His fist thudded against the glass, then almost as immediately did it pull away. "...the city's wrong, the streets're wrong, even the air, the quiet, the sky!"

     All at once it was like he deflated, falling against the thick display window, a shudder passing through his body as he rested his forehead on the glass, watching his breath as it fogged up the window.

     "Strip me down, toss me here, surrounded by nothin'- by no one... What does that make me? What'm I supposed to do...?"

     Silence crawled into place, always hanging over his shoulder, always ready to swallow up those precious spaces where sound would have been most welcome. It gained ground and could have frozen the air and time itself.

     ...it was broken by an equally broken chuckle, one that bubbled up from the depths of despair and then burst forth in unadulterated, manic laughter. "...hahahAHAHA!!! Isn't that always the question? Nothin's changed, everything's right- it's me that's wrong! Right?!" He pushed away from the glass, eyes agleam as he grinned at his reflection. "So. We should probably fix this. What a shame it would be, not to enjoy such peace that is in this city," he said, swinging around in a lazy twirl, arm gesturing loosely at the surrounding streets. "So quiet, so empty..! It's too right. So much order it's killed everything! What a terrible tragedy!"

      He stopped suddenly, jerking back towards the shop window, practically pressing his face against it as though he'd recalled something, and he peered intently, his lips pulling into a smirk.

     "Tragedies can't be remedied, but moods can be lifted, sadness made happy. It's a quick fix. One....just needs the proper tools."

     Smiling to himself as he adopted a rather lazy air, the young man pulled away from the window once again, stuffing a hand into a pocket as he stepped around towards the door....of the hardware store.


case no: --