Gene Gordon

FILE FROM THE ST MARYS INSTITUE, MINNESOATA

Real Name: Eugene “Gene” Gordon
Renegade Name: Eight
Title: Magic Eight, Eight Ball, Ball Brain, Crazy Eight
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Age: 31
Gender: Male
Race: Caucasian, British
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Steel Grey
Height: 5’9”
Weight: 125 lbs

Character Description:


Taken on the 29th January, 2005

Diagnostic Interview:

28th January, 2005

The Patient seems to be suffering from some form of Manic Depression. When being brought in, he refused to let go of the weapon that had been implemented in his child’s murder. He has yet to have let go over the long period he has remained here. Any attempt to remove it from his grasp has resulted in the orderlies being attacked, or in self harm. The patient has also refused to speak during any of the sessions. Multiple attempts have been made, but when asked a question, he simply shakes the ball until finding a satisfactory answer and then proceeds to hold it out to us. He has taken to not shaving, not bathing, not eating and not sleeping. Recommendations from other doctors have suggested the Patient be put him under sedation, but I’m unwilling to do so. Other doctors have suggested that the murder of his son has irreversibly damaged his personality, but I have yet to give up hope. I’m also working under the hypothesis that he may be suffering from a long untreated form of Autism.

AMMENDIUM, 1st February, 2005

Eugene Gordon has broken out of solitary confinement. The police have been informed.

AMMENDIUM, 28th December, 2005

For nine years, I’ve continued to analyse Eugene. I believe his case has affected me deeply. From the hours of news footage, to the sporadic moments the police have had him in custody, I’m willing to revise my previous diagnosis, if only partially. I do believe that Gene is suffering from Manic Depression still, but is also now suffering from a Dissociative Identity Disorder. There is Eugene, and then there is “Eight.” Eugene suffers the “depressive” side of the pair, from what I can tell. The periods he has been in prison for longer than a day, he has reverted to the previous state I’m familiar with. He inflicts damage on himself or others without the Magic 8-Ball used to kill his son, which has lead to him being immobilised completely for long periods. He seems to have no recollection of the “crimes” he commits and shows remorse at the videos of the violence he can commit under Eight’s influence.


Eight, and I am sad to admit this, seems the healthier personality. He seems to be very intelligent, able to utilize the Technical abilities that Eugene had before his Psychological Breakdown. Every device he has used, from that large devastating gun of his, to the numerous modified 8-Balls could have been designed by Eugene himself. He also seems to exude a rather frightening ability to switch “on-and-off” inside of Eugene’s head. When he wants to be control, he is in control. When he wants to hide away he can, whether that’s from his responsibilities or if he has suffered very serious wounds. However, Eight is very dangerous. If he perceives you as threat to the innocent everyday citizens, he will do everything in his power to destroy you, whether that is severely beating you until you are crippled, or death. He shows no remorse in the things he does, in fact, he seems to act with pleasure. From the CCTV videos I’ve seen of him, Eight acts in such a violent manner that it has caused me to be nauseous. He’s been shot point blank a number of times and still often stands up to, simply by will alone. When he is taken down, he has to be taken down hard. He has a deep seated need for recognition and tends to ride a motorcycle.

Eight tends to motif himself around the 8-Ball. The only thing he has in common with Eugene, apart from sharing a body of course, is the lack of voice. A window on his chest often shows one of twenty phrases, tended to be viewed humours by those that see them. This not often the case. However, I am working under the theory that Eight has been writing letters to various Newspaper companies under a litterany of disguises. I have yet to conform it, but many of the letters seem to end with an Eight letter name.

I expect the only cure for Eugene is that his son is brought back to life. The only thing I expect to cure Eight is death.

Personal History:

28th January, 2005

The following information has been provided by Mrs Alice Gordon (Divorced from the Patient for four years) and Mrs Mary Gordon.

Born to Mary and John Gordon, Eugene could be described as an RAF child. He has moved from country to country, across Europe, during his very early years and only settled down in England during his early teens. By then, he had been to over 15 schools. He would often have to be with one parent at a time, but his generally spent most time with his mother. Eugene seemed to have a weak immune system in the early years, often suffering from a number of sniffles, colds and infections. This may have been put down to the stress of the numerous moves. However, when raised, he seemed to show none of the tendencies, which might have been early signs of emotional repression. Also mentioned were the fact that he seemed unable to emotionally connect with any of the children his own age, most likely due to the erratic nature of his day to day life. He spent most of his early years with his mother, only getting to know his father when he was stationed close by or during holiday periods when he had time off. This possibly left him without a father figure. It has been reasoned that he attempted to fill this with Arithmetic work and tinkering with mechanics.

However, it seems as he hit thirteen, many of these problems seemed to fade out. His mother took up a permanent residence in an English RAF base, which allowed him to connect emotionally with other students and people at the nearby school. The visits from his father became much more frequent, as he climbed the Career ladder and was granted more time for himself and his family. His school work improved dramatically, mainly in the mathematical areas as well as anything in the technical area. Eugene was also put into two programs, the early Cadet program that offered a fast track into the RAF and also an Engineering program. He would later choose to do engineering, preferring this other the RAF which he somehow still viewed as a negative force in his life. He would also spend many of these defining exactly what he wanted to do in the field of Engineering, preferring to design and implement many small devices, such as tiny robotics and a number of electrical non-lethal weapons. During this time, he took a number of online courses too, as well as trying to get into a number of University level engineering groups.

The numerous programs and personal sacrifice acted much like a spring board into the academic world, which allowed him to become more and more recognizable not only to the Universities around where he lived but also to international school boards. He won a number of county and country wide mechanical competitions of various prestigious degrees. His work did not go unnoticed for long and he soon began to receive many open ended invitations to Universities close by, even before he ended school at age 16. After he had completed his GCSEs, he was face with a number of choices, whether that would be to continue with his education or peruse and actual career. However, he received an offer from MIT and while originally he seemed to dislike the idea, preferring to stay close to his friends and family, it was his father that encouraged him to go to America and get the best out of life that he could.

He was able to get a green card easily and was soon living in America as a student. At first, he seemed to regress to his previous mental state, preferring to work alone and spend most his time dedicated to his work, however he was brought out of his shell with the help of his roommate, apparently a very boisterous “Frat Boy” from Mrs. Alice Gordon. Apparently he was unable to get any work done unless he adhered to the Frat Boy’s wishes, although it was much more benevolent then the way it was sounded. This brought him out of his shell and allowed him to become a semi-recognised face around campus. While at one of the numerous parties, he met Alice and seemed charming enough, and so the two started a relationship that would eventually lead them to get married, three years after they had graduated from MIT.

The two of them graduated after six years of study, Eugene having gained a Masters in engineering as had Alice. Their relationship had been put under little stress but Alice says that during these year’s, Eugene seemed to be pretending to be someone he in fact wasn’t. When they got married, Eugene was able to get full citizenship in the US. Alice moved from Minnesota to Manhattan and Eugene followed her, getting a job with an R&D company in the city. He seemed to suffer from that original lack of social skills and even some growing anxiety, but Alice pushed him to open up to colleagues at work and so he did. However he seemed to become more and more distant towards Alice as the relationship continued, which is as of yet been unexplained fully.

In 1997, Alice was said to be pregnant. She had a healthy boy named Todd. This seemed to temporarily cure his distant tendencies with his wife, however it was short lived. He drifted away from her again, but spent most of his time doting on the child instead. The relationship became strained and in 1999, she finally divorced him. She described it as a mutual parting of the ways and even though it hurt, she wasn’t going to cut him out of her life or out of Todd’s. At best it could be described as Civil.

Alice remained in New York, along with Eugene. They would often see each other, and Eugene would make regular visits to see his son. During this time he moved from one company to another, bought his own apartment in the south of Manhattan. The two of them would generally rotate holidays.

Reason For Admittance:
On the 25th of December, 2005, Todd and Eugene Gordon were heading home after the part held at Alice’s apartment. The two of them were halfway home, carrying presents in their arms, when Eugene ducked down an alleyway to cut a few minutes off the trip. It was here a group of five to six men attacked him, holding a knife to him while stripping him off Todd’s presents. All but one of them, a Magic 8-Ball held in Todd’s hands. When they tried to take it, not above the petty crime of stealing from a child, Todd put up a fight. So much so that he actually incapacitated one with a kick to the ground. When the gang reacted violently, Eugene attempted to stop them but was held in place by two of them. The man whom Todd had kicked pulled the 8-Ball from his hands and then proceeded to beat the Seven year old to death with it.

Eugene was found weeping over the dead body of his child and clutching the 8-ball in his hand. If it wasn’t for CCTV in the area, Eugene would have been arrested and convicted for the murder of his own child.

AMMENDIUM, 1st February 2005

Eugene has escaped, injuring three orderlies. Their situation is critical. It is unknown where he is or the reasons for his escape.

FOR FURTHER INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT DR L. CRANE

Costume:

Taken atop the Slantholm Building, after Eight used an RPG again the Mafia Crime lord, Caladone Vinci. Vinci survived.

Powers:

Eight has no powers, beyond the ones he has earned. In the nine years he’s escaped from both Gene and from the mental hospital, he’s trained day and night to be a perfect example of humanity. He is strong, fast, and durable as a human can naturally be, built with hours of training, although this can often put him on the weaker end of the spectrum when it comes to the Super Powered Community. However, he makes up for this by being highly intelligent, which often gives him tactical insight in many fights.

His strongest point however is his fluid and incredibly power fighting style. While never having studied martial arts, his variety of fighting is dirty and powerful. He can adapt to almost any situation and often uses a myriad of weapons, from automatic rifles to just plain old blunt instruments. What he lacks in finesse, he makes up for in pure unabashed aggression. He will not stop until either knocked unconscious or crippled.

Power Grid:
STR: 3
SPD: 3
END: 3
INT: 5
EP: 0
FS: 6

Roleplay Sample:

For Vinci, the violence was a masterpiece.

He started off so strongly, breaking through the skylight with complete disregard for his own safety. There could have been anything in the darkness below him; a pit of piranhas, a collection of rusty spikes, the world’s biggest meat grinder. But alas, no. His boots hid solid ground and he went down on his knees, helmet bent over as he was saluting the very man he had arrived to kill. Vinci was so sure then, so sure that the man whom had alerted not only himself but every armed guard in the warehouse, that he was safe. He could not have been so wrong. The first man to step forward held a shotgun. He shouted, his big bald head bulging with veins as he shoved the barrel of the weapon into the crazy Hero’s direction. Such a foolish mistake. Within a second it was pulled from his grasp, like the weapon was a toy an angry father now took back. He blinked once in surprise before the weapon ended back up in his face. The trigger was pulled. A multitude of the man’s friends were splattered with skull and whatever petty thing the man called a brain.

Vinci laughed.

The second and third men pulled their automatic rifles into their shoulders and fired, but already Eight was moving, running straight for them. As they bullets flew, he skidded to the floor. They followed him, aiming at the ground, each too stupid to notice until it was too late. A comparison doesn’t exist for watching two men shoot the ankles from out of under them. The guns dropped and the men tumbled like trees, clutching at the stumps were their feet should have been. Eight wasted no time in rolling into a stand, turning the shotgun onto one and then the other. The rest were taken aback, eyes wide in fear as they watched the white headed fool turn their gaze to them.

Vinci could practically taste the fear on the air.

“SHOOT HIM!” Someone shouted and a number of weapons were pulled from holsters and places by frightened hand. Eight was gone, moving behind the large industrious machines. And he was gone, like some sort of vengeful phantom. They moved out, slowly walking, eyes glancing furiously from side to side. And then Eight, the bastard, blew a fuse somehow. The place was driven into darkness. The rest is confusing, screams of men as they were either broken or murdered.

Vinci could only see by the flashing muzzles of the terrified. Shadows were cast wildly, while here and there, from the darkness, the blasted phantom would appear to break a neck. More than once, he used the confusion to trick the men into shooting each other with their automatic weapons or pistols. He would trip, push, punch and kick his way through them like they were nothing more than a band of low street thugs. Eight never spoke a word, never made a sound, even when Vinci was sure that he put a fucking bullet into him.

And then there was silence. An unnerving silence broken only by the whimpers and cries of men reduced to children. Or men observing others reduced to rotting meat.

And then he came for Vinci. No tricks, no shields. He simply stepped from behind an iron pillar and walked towards him. As civil as man could be, taking long slow breaths like he had just woken from a pleasant nap. There was blood on his side, an open wound, but it didn’t look painful enough. Vinci held out his gun, his eyes wild, his mouth twisted in that mad little grin of his. “Hey Eight... You come to kill me?” His revolver, all silver and shaking, was aimed square at the gasmask.

Better not tell you now.

Vinci cracked up, his gun bouncing as he laughed, his other hand tugging the lapel of his suit as he shook from with the nerves and the joy of it all. The messages that surfaced on the window on Eights chest always tickled his funny bones. “Oh, hehe, you were always so good at the quips, weren’t you?” He reached up, trying to push his flat slick backed hair even further towards his lapel. “Listen. I know I’ve done wrong... I know. But I’m ready to give it all up. I’m thinking of... I’m thinking of turning myself in, sounds good, right? Now... Now you’re going to leave me alone, right?” The man was shaking from head to toe, as Eight stood before him, head titled to the right.

Don’t count on it.

“Come on man. You... Oh, fuck you.” He roared out a shout, lunged forward and pulled the trigger once, twice, a third time. The first shot hit Eight’s helmet. It ricocheted off into the darkness, before Eight had his hand wrapped around the man’s wrist. He pushed the gun downwards, side stepping it, before curving Vinci’s arm up into his own chest. As he reached in to pull the trigger of the 44. Magnum, Vinci looked wide eyed at the screen in front of him.

Outlook not so good.

BANG!

Looks good to me.

Approved + Moved.

trashed