Paul Peterson/Tomcat

by **Lingo** November 7th 2015, 1:36 pm

Paul 'Tomcat' Peterson
Finders keepers, losers weepers.
It counts if I find it in a locked safe, right?

Basic Biography

Real Name: Paul Peterson
Renegade Name: Tomcat
Title: Cat Burglar/Waiter
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Age: 18 and a half
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue left, Brown Right. When he's in his Tomcat gettup, he wears a cat's eye contact lense in his left eye.
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 150lbs
Blood type: A-

The Looks

Him:

Tomcat: His mask while he is Tomcat consists of leather goggles, which are connected to a leather set of cat ears. They attach via straps at the back of his head, insuring that his disguise doesn't fall off his face. He usually has a cat nose and whiskers painted on, unless he can't be bothered. On his legs he usually wears black jeans, with black boots and some knee padding. One his hands he wears gloves, which have got some homemade claws attached to the tips. He wears a black long sleeved shirt with a grey harnass, which contains most of his equipment. His jeans have pouches strapped on the thighs.

The Legacy

Personality:

Paul Peterson: Paul is quiet until spoken to, and when he is spoken too he is quite reserved and very polite. He'd rather keep to himself but if he has to he is capable of holding a conversation, and he isn't shy - as being shy isn't exactly a good quality of a diner waiter. He's scared of heights, motorcycles and pretty people. All he wants is to live in a quiet world, where no-one fights. However, deep down he knows that he finds that thought boring but lies to himself. He enjoys cats and drinking tea, as well as drawing pictures. He's reasonably humble but knows how to accept a compliment. He carries some minor insecurities about his hetereochromia but most people seem to praise it rather than think it's ugly.

However, Paul is just him on the outside... when he puts on the mask, the other side of the shiny, shiny coin is shown.

Tomcat: Tomcat is a loud, brash and extremely confident youngster. Wealth and Jewels are usually the only things on his mind, as well as the thrill. The chase. The Hunt. The rewards. Witty and frankly flirtatious, Tomcat couldn't careless what others think about him - at the end of the day he's gonna be rich and they won't even know who he is. Tomcat fears nothing, nothing except poverty and death - he'd jump from the heightest of heights, surf on a motorcycle and kiss the prettiest of pretties. He'd lie and cheat and hurt and decieve all to get what he wants. He is who Paul wishes he was. He sees life as a game - and he intends on winning.

History:
Born in London to a family of three. His mother, Zoe Peterson - an underground boxer. His father, Mark Peterson - an olympic gymnast and his brother, Dave Peterson - An MI5 agent. Those three things have very little in common, but their household bred Paul. Peer Pressure dominated the first 15 years of his life - his mother hoping to have a little prodigy who could enter the ring and carry on her legacy. A father who wanted a noble and strong olympian to carry on the family name and his brother, who wanted his brother to join the force. They all kept teaching him what he'd be doing in each field, hoping that they'd he'd be swayed and decide who's footsteps he wanted to trace.

When it all got too much, the constant lessons, texts, presents, field trips - his brother even tried to coax him into his career path by telling him the truth about the Prime Minister. The three off them confronted him on his 17th birthday; They couldn't keep competing like this. They asked him to choose between them. They sat for three hours debating, with Paul barely saying a word. In the end, Paul ended up going to bed because he was tired, with no decision being made.

A cold wind swirled through his room and he awoke at about 3am. He sat up and turned on his bedroom lamp. He scanned his room, and jumped when he saw a black cat sitting on the ledge of his bedroom's window. He meowed before leaving and he sat up to peer out at it. It walked down the street. He didn't know what took over him, be it an impulse or a spell, but he got out of his bed, pulled on some jeans, his jacket and his shoes and walked after the cat. It took him towards the centre of town. It was eeirely empty at this hour. What was he doing? The only people who were in town at this hour weren't very friendly. He took a step out onto the road, following the pitch black cat.

As soon as his feet touched the pavement, a double decker bus swerved around the corner. He turned and froze, like a deer in the headlights before he and it's large windscreen collided. He was hurled a good 20 feet and rolled across the ground. He should have died. While he was out, he had an epiphany. He should have died. He literally could have died at 17 because he decided to go on a walk. Life is fragile. Life ends. When he came too, his entire body hurt. He opened his eyes to find the black cat sitting directly on his chest. He coughed, and it casually walked off. Life was too short... He watched the cat walk off, with no master, no family deteremined destiny. It just... roamed and did what it wanted. Cat's lives were shorter but they had nine so it was ok...

He lay on the road. The bus driver must have driven off. He could feel blood on his face and his arm was probably broken. It hurt to breathe. He should have died. He looked down to his hands. Two of them were dislocated and pointing backwards. At first he was shocked but then he looked at it again. Eight of his fingers remained normal. Was it a sign... maybe he had survived for another reason. Did he have nine lives? Maybe the cat was in his room to help weave his destiny to this direction. Life was too short. Tonight should have been the end of his. Maybe it as the end of one... and now he had eight. He slowly sat up and over the next half hour, willed hismelf onto his feet and managed to walk himself home. He showered the blood off. He had gashes all over his legs and arms and bruises. He remembered what his mum had told him. She'd taught him how to pop dislocated things back into place. He turned the water of the shower up louder to mask his grunts. It hurt alot more than he'd expected.

He went out at 3am again, the following day. He had about 6 painkillers in his system. As time went on the pain was only growing but he didn't let it stop him. He aimlessly walked through the dark streets, illuminated by the orange glow of the street lights. While he was walking, he didn't really know what he was looking for. Destiny had been rather... abrupt the last time. He was about to take another step whenever the street light infront of him switched off. He stared at the dark gap that was created when the light stopped. Something primal told him not to step into the darkness. He turned, and the streetlight behind him turned off as well. He gasped, now standing under a streetlight on an illuminated island. He looked around, and stared into the window of the shop he was standing infront off. A fancy dress shop. He walked forward, and cuped his hands around his eyes in order to peer better into the glass. There, on a display stand. A leather pair of cat ears, and what appeared to be goggles.

A trash can smashed through the store's window. He snatched the mask and the goggles, and ran. It hurt like fuck, but he ran. He had to climb into his room through his own window. If his family heard him come in they'd ask questions.

The next morning, he packed a suitcase. Holding the cat ears in his hands, Paul stroked the right ear and went to put them into his jacket. He found himself hesitating. He slowly lifted them up and fasten them to his head. He walked to the mirror and looked himself up and down. He found himself smiling. He looked good. They suited him. Taking a deep breath, he removed his mother's debit card from his pocket and sat at his laptop. He booked a ticket to America. One way. Paul kept trying to panic but something about the cat ears kept him calm and confident. Everything was fine. He wasn't Paul anymore, Paul wouldn't have to deal with any consequences - only this... other persona. This... Tomcat. He put his mother's debit card back in his pocket, and lifted his suitcase. His flight left in 5 hours. This was happening he was actually doing this. He walked into the dining room, where his family were eating breakfast. They took one look at him with the cat's ears on and laughed. "Paul what are you doing?" his mother said, trying to sound curious when really she was a bit worried. "I've made up my mind."

He pointed a finger at his mother, "Fuck you." his father, "Fuck you", his brother "And fuck you." He raised both his hands into middle fingers. "I'm leaving. Don't call me, I'll call you." His heart was pounding, he'd never felt so alive. "I'm out." He picked up his suitcase as he left. He slammed the door in their angry, but dumbfounded faces. The next few weeks were spent traveling, panicking, worrying, thinking that he was going to die but ultimately, they were spent free. He arrived in America. This was where his plan ended. He didn't know where he was going from here. He had some money but it evaporated in a few weeks. It wasn't long before he donned the Tomcat persona in order to survive. Paul managed to secure himself a job at a diner, even though he was an illegal immigrant - he promised to work for cash in hand, under the table and for 2/3's of the diner's usual wage. He even managed to find somewhere to live, as run down and crummy as it was. Life was harder.... but he felt much better. Most of the time.

The Powers and Weaknesses

(All characters can be as powerful as they want, as long as they are balanced with proper weaknesses.)
Skills

Skill 1: Acrobatics: Paul studied acrobatics due to his father pressuring him into trying to follow in his footsteps. He had professional mentoring from a young age and is capable of rivaling any expert in skill.

Skill 2: Catfights: Paul was taught by his mother how to fight to a semi-professional degree, in the hopes that he'd follow in her footsteps rather than his Dad's. He knows where to hit, how to hit it and when. He has also been taught by his mother how to fight dirty. As far as her teaching was concerned, "cheater is just a fancy word for winner." He is quite skilled with a baseball bat.

Skill 3: Subterfuge: Paul was taught by his brother how to pick locks, spot weaknesses in security systems, lie, hack and very creative hiding spots in the hopes that he'd leave his household and travel with him rather than following in either of his parent's footsteps.

Skill 4: Improvisation: Paul decided to go his own way and taught himself how to use his enviroment to the fullest. Be in combining two items to create something of use to using his surroundings to help him win a fight or get away.

Power?: Nine Lives: Paul has the ability to survive nine would-be fatal things but whether this is a power or some form of placebo effect is unknown. He survives but is not healed. If he got shot in the chest, he'd miraculously survive but still have to recover from being shot.

Weakness(es)

Weakness 1: Human: Paul is only human, and while he may be able to perform some incredible feats, especially for his age, he is not capable of anything superhuman.

Weakness 2: Dogs: Alergic.

Weakness 3: Magpie Syndrome: If something shiny catches Tomcat's eye he'll go out of his way to recover it - think Indiana Jones with his hat.

Weakness 4: Trees: Always getting stuck in them.

Items/Minions

Jackie: His baseball bat. It's hollow metal, painted black with a cat face painted on the top in gray.

Claws: When in his Tomcat gettup, the tips of his fingers are adorned with razor sharp, home made claws. They range from 1.5 - 2" long.

Toe Blades: Each of Tomcat's boots have three small, curved blades sticking out of the front, allowing him to scratch with his feet as well as aid his climbing.

Marbles: He carries marbles which when thrown on the ground, may cause people to trip.

Bolas: He carries some Bolas in his pouches.

Padding: He usually wears some light padding (nothing more than skate boarding gear).

Rope: He carries rope with him if he feels he'll need it.

Lockpicks: He carries a lock picking kit.

Physical Priority
(You are to put these physical attributes in order from 1 to 4. 1 is the highest priority, 4 is the lowest.)
Agility: 1
Endurance: 4
Reaction: 2
Strength: 3

by **Gamma** November 7th 2015, 2:42 pm

Approved until stated otherwise.

by **Champion** January 2nd 2017, 8:06 pm

retired

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