Atin Fordo (Changed to Darman Carmine)Age:
Delta Squad Leader | Special Weapons OperatorCallsign:
58.9670081 kgEye Colour:
One ice blue, one greenHair Colour:
Carmine is definitely not of the norm when it comes to appearance. He is rather short for somebody of his age, only standing at 5'6, and is extremely skinny for someone his age due to a few years of malnutrition, being only one hundred thirty at the age of nineteen, but what little weight he has on him is muscle, with very little fat, hinting at some old self-training. He has relatively no distinctive features apart from his cold, dead-looking eyes being colored as his right being blue and left being green, and several scars, one of which crosses from the corner of his right eye, down to the left side of his cheek, from old fights. His face is slightly bony, but not too noticeably, with no sign of any telltale emotions, apart from a seemingly constant sneer on his face. He's got curly hair that's long in the back, but relatively basic in front due to cutting it for so long to keep it out of his eyes. It is, however, getting longer due to him forgetting to cut it.
The armor and uniform he wears is painted jet black, for the reason that he's trying to maximize all possible stealth advantages. He also opted for a different helmet than usual, because the original was too open for comfort, his helmet offering a full face helmet to protect him from shrapnel, detection, and lastly-- The Xenomorph facehuggers. The helmet also has copied Yautja tech in it, allowing him to use the same vision modes a Yautja can. He is also now capable of cloaking himself, due to having stolen the tech off that same Yautja. He has also mounted a plasmacaster on his right gauntlet, and a small, speargun-like device on his left. You guessed it. He stole these from the Yautja. His armor and helmet also have red smears across them that makes it look like blood. Many speculate that it is, in fact, just that.
Appearance, fully armored:
Carmine is more or less a very odd person, mentally unstable, and has been sometimes thought to have multiple personalities. He is sometimes incredibly quiet, overly quiet in fact, only speaking when information is needed, or he can play the rold of the relentless boss who unintentionally gives everyone orders, or lastly, he can be very talkative to the point of annoyance and cracking jokes repeatedly. Usually is relatively nice to people, apart from his silence, but is somewhat short-fused, and can turn into one evil son of a bitch when he's angry. He seems to always be in a constant state of depression, even when in a good mood, due to having a very cynical and very pessimistic view of things, almost always sarcastic, and tends to have many bad memories, sometimes occurring at terrible times. He will often follow any order he is given, and may often look to his commanding officer for answers. He has a deep hatred for extraterrestrials due to past experience, and is often searching for his next kill. He likes explosives for some reason, and always seems eager to make something blow up... Be it a building, or an enemy. He's also sadistic when it comes to his bloodlust, sometimes to the point of plotting the torture of the enemies he finds. Interestingly, he has made a habit out of collecting enemy weaponry or parts to make into his own weapons.Weapons: Primary Weapon:
M90 Grenade LauncherDescription:
The grenade launcher features four firing modes, able to alternate between a timed bomb, which explodes one second after hitting the ground, Proximity Mines that detonate when something comes too close to it, Spider Grenades, which are Proximity Mines that will follow their enemies and detonate upon contact, or Electromagnetic pulse grenades that will knock out any nearby electrical devices. It features a round, magnum-style clip into which the different ammunition is inserted. Having decided that he would have to frequently remove limbs off of his enemy, there is a tip of a Xenomorph tail attached to the barrel that can flip in and out when not in use, which basically functions the same way a scythe would. The word "Boom" is written across the barrel of the weapon. When not in use, he keeps it loosely strapped to his survival pack so that he can draw it easily in the event of needing it. Secondary Weapon:
H&K MP70A1 Submachine GunDescription:
The 'MP7A1' features a redesigned pistol grip with a different surface and curved shape, a smaller stock with a straight buttpad, side mounted Picatinny rails as standard and the folding iron sights were made more compact. The weapon was made slightly longer, but because the stock was shortened, the overall length did not change. The stock is also able to be locked in three positions. Recent MP7A1 models have a safety trigger similar to a Glock pistol, the middle section of the trigger must be pulled first before the outer part will move. This helps to stop accidental discharges if the trigger is bumped. Carmine has outfitted his with telescopic sights, as well as a suppressor, and uses forty-round magazines.Sidearm Weapon:
Colt Python .357 MagnumDescription:
A revolver of American origin, the Python is a powerful handgun. Carmine has personally opted for a dark, royal blue finish to make it less than easily seen. He also opted for one with a six inch barrel, so that it could fire at things a decent distance away, making it not only a great close range weapon, but also a decent standard combat weapon. He's put a small, flip-up targetting ring on the top of it so that he can aim at longer ranges, without having a full-blown scope.Melee Weapon:
Xenobone Short SwordDescription:
Xenomorphs have acidic blood, and therefore must be acid-proof themselves in order to contain it. Carmine has a short sword crafted from the bones of a Xenomorph he had killed, which means that it is both incredibly sharp and acid resistant. It is a two-sided sword, with one side being a standard blade, the other being serrated along the middle of it. He'll only use it when all shooting weapons have failed him, or if he really needs it, but he always keeps it in a sheath on his back (Also made of Xenomorph bones) just in case.Other Weapons:
Three-sided Xenobone Knife
Hidden Xenobone Daggers (Built into knuckle plates and boots)
Flashbang Grenade x8
Gas Grenade x8
Frag Grenade x8
Remote-detonated bombs (Can be detonated from 25 meters away) x8Equipment:
[*]Mandalorian-style Helmet (Includes HUD)[Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]W-Y Issue Cap/M3 Helmet Camera
[*]W-Y Issue Cap/M3 Helmet Mike & Radio
[*]W-Y Issue Personal Body Armour [Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]W-Y Issue M3 Thigh Armor [Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]W-Y Issue M3 Shin Armour [Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]W-Y Issue Shoulder Mounted M3 Lamp Addition
[*]W-Y Issue Combat Webbing Belt
[*]W-Y Issue Military Uniform [Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]W-Y Issue 2 Litre Camelback Hydration Unit
[*]W-Y Issue Dog Tags
[*]Flameproof nylon/Kevlar Armoureweave/Xenobone Plated Gloves (Plates contain hidden daggers) [Colour: Ã¢â‚¬Å“Payne's GrayÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]Modified COG Issue AP Armor-plated/Xenobone Boots (Soles contain hidden daggers) [Color: Ã¢â‚¬Å“BlackÃ¢â‚¬Â]
[*]Motion tracker (Built into HUD)
[*]Xenobone GauntletsSurvival Pack:
[*]W-Y Issue Sleeping bag/Roll mat
[*]W-Y Issue Entrenchment Digging Tool
[*]W-Y Issue Respirator Gasmask
[*]W-Y Issue 24 hour Combat Rations (x3)
[*]W-Y Issue Spare Fatigues
[*]W-Y Issue Cold Weather Gear
[*]W-Y Issue Socks & Undies (x4 pairs)
[*]W-Y Issue Spare Ammo Clips FOR PRIMARY WEAPON(x25)
[*]W-Y Issue Emergency Medical Kit x5
[*]W-Y Issue Tent, Tent Pegs x10, Tent Chord x50 Meter Roll
[*]Bag of Beef Jerky (Equivalent of four bags' worth.)
[*]Oxygen Tank (24 hours worth, tube hooked up to helmet, oxygen flow can be turned off via helmet)
[*]Spare Ammo Clips for Secondary Weapon(x35)
[*]Spare Ammo Clips for Sidearm Weapon(x49)
[*]Roll of Duct Tape(x2)Combat Webbing
[*]Individual Marine Carrying Pouch
Rappel Line/Grappling Hook, "War Journal," Marking Pencil, Large Eraser
[*]MINIMI Ammunition Pouch
Primary Weapon Clip x1
[*]MINIMI Ammunition Pouch
Primary Weapon Clip x1
[*]MINIMI Ammunition Pouch
Secondary Weapon Magazine x19
[*]MINIMI Ammunition Pouch
Sidearm Weapon Clip x25Barracks Gear:
[*]W-Y Issue Bunk Bed
[*]W-Y Issue Mattress & 2x Bedsheets
[*]W-Y Issue Footlocker w/ Combination Lock
[*]W-Y Issue SPARE ISSUED GEAR (Everything you have been Issued, there's a clean, spare one waiting at the barracks, with the exception of weapons & ammo)
[*]W-Y Issue Work Bench w/ Lamp
[*]Civilian Clothing (Only used Off-duty)
[*]20 Inch Television
[*]Sun Tzu's "Art of War"
[*]Primary Weapon Cleaner
[*]Secondary Weapon Cleaner
Born under the name of Atin Fordo, he had been born in the United States, or more specifically, an island off the coast of it that had recently arisen. He no longer remembers the names of his parents, nor does he remember the name of the city. However, when he was a child no older than seven, an event happened that nobody could have predicted. Something was in the city, and the military was called. Many people claimed to have seen this thing, something that could blend in with the environment, fire bolts of plasma at other beings, and slaughter people without a second thought, later to be known to him as a "Predator," or "Yautja." The military was called, for reasons that seemed obvious, and made their best attempts at finding it. That was when a massive explosion wiped out everyone in the city. Except him. He was just out of its reach.
Using debris and rubble to hide or kill, he was hardly able to find food for ten long years, being forced to brutally kill any animal he was lucky enough to find with what might as well have been rocks. He had never thought he'd make it out alive, he thought he'd starve to death long before, or another one of the Predators would come down to avenge the other's death.
But neither of the two happened. Instead, at the age of sixteen a vehicle finally came into view. A helicopter was coming toward the island, but not for any reason that had to do with him. No, they had no idea the island even existed. But he managed to get them to land, and finally escaped the wretched hellhole he had been forced to live in. He would later reflect that the sound of that helicopter landing and kicking up dirt into his face was probably the best sound in all of his existence. He was soon educated on many things he missed out on, and was re-taught how to speak English, as it had been too long without speaking for him to remember.
Renamed "Darman Carmine," due to being nowhere close to the person he had once been, he decided to join the military forces after his rescue, vowing to crush the Predators that had caused him the fate he felt was horribly unjust. He never talked about the event to anyone, because he felt it wasn't their business. The Weyland-Yutani corporation, however, would offer him a job there for reasons he suspected had to do with the Predator. By the age of eighteen he had accepted it, and by nineteen, he began his training.
Before Carmine even managed to complete basic training, he had been promoted to Red Harvest-- The Command squad, and directly afterwards, his first mission, later known as "'Operation: 'Overkill'" began, in an incredibly old, famous town... Nuremburg. He went through a series of events that led up to him fighting a Yautja Elder and Clan leader, who he managed to defeat due to the support of almost all his Weyland-Yutani allies, and took his armor after the battle as a trophy. He was left hardly able to walk, most of his ribs were broken, and he'd punctured a lung, but due to having allies nearby, he was evacuated to the base. However, his friends had stepped in for him... And got ambushed by Xenomorphs. He forced himself to go help them, but came too late. One had died and taken a bug with it, the other retreating with the body. He proceeded to fight the remaining Xenomorph, and succeeded in killing it without being killed-- Though at the cost of being heavily injured to the point where he was incapable of moving, and blacking out. However, his leader had successfully managed to get him out of there alive, and once everyone was evacuated, the city was destroyed.
Shortly after the mission, and he had fully recovered physically, though more distant emotionally, the military structure of the corporation was revised. The official result was that he was removed from Command Squad. However, in exchange, he was placed in charge of the new squad named "Delta Squad," and promoted to Lance Corporal. Unofficially, though he was no longer in Command Squad, he had gained an even higher position than before, and remained a representative of the Commander's best interests. He is now believed to be continuing training, and also training any new troops he had placed under his command.Mission Record/Status:
Operation: 'Overkill' (Ties That Bind)
- Victory, Survived Kills:
Xeno_Slayer (Ties That Bind)
Waralien (Ties That Bind)Medals:UserName:
Crypto136136YIM:MSN: [email protected]E-Mail: [email protected]Sample Roleplay:Has been Confirmed by Clan Leader.Here we go again.
It had only been about a week since he completed training, but it felt like an eternity... Or so he thought. Truth was, it was far from over, or so he was told. He was almost certain, but then again, if the training was that short, then everybody could be a super soldier in no time at all.Typical.
He had drilled for the event of a Yautja landing time and time again, what seemed like every day. When he ate, it was just the damn field rations that they had been assigned. Which, he noted from the start, would be terrible to be stuck with when one was stuck on an island, or just without transport. They tasted, to him, as though he was eating rotten eggs. The cheese and chocolate in it were probably all that kept people from spewing it back up. Not that it was that bad to him; It beat an eternity of eating whatever rolled by him.
When he fought, the training that was being drilled into him rushed over him. That was good. He had a nearly inescapable memory. Few things were forgotten, but only little unimportant details. Training had few of those, and those little details could still save your life. He still hadn't exactly mastered the art of using those grenades, or reloading in mere seconds. He had to think about it for a second. He'd soon discovered that thinking could actually get you killed. You had to know instantly what you had to do, unless you had the time to think.
Usually, he assumed, you wouldn't.
Darman Carmine had been assigned to the "Response Team," which was a squad trained to fight against Yautja. That was fine. He had a personal dislike of the beasts. He was currently waiting for the signal to start the training session. He had a twisted look on his face that suggested he was anxious to get it over with, and that he wasn't all too pleased with the fact that he had to continue this when he thought he was done.
Luckily, nobody would see it. Not when he had his helmet on, at least. He'd decided against using the standard issue caps, in favor of one that actually covered his whole head. The tinted visor prevented anybody from seeing his face from far away, as well as his team seeing his face behind it. It wouldn't exactly encourage them to accept him as a teammate.
He was apparently going to have to infiltrate a building that a Yautja was suspected of hiding in. They were known to do that if they were on other planets... Set up a place they could retreat to. His objectives were to find the building, find a way in, and then destroy the Yautja ship... If it was there. Then kill the beast, too.
It was a live fire exercise. He didn't know about the Yautja or the ship, though. It could have just been saying what they'd really have to do if it was a real situation, or there could have been a real Yautja in there, and a real ship. He hoped it was the former, because he wasn't exactly wearing the equipment for it. Or the numbers. He was being forced to go it alone this time around.
The signal went off, a beep in his helmet. He began moving quickly, off to the South. That was the general direction he was told to look, at least. But the issue for him was... How far South? His survival pack wasn't exactly lightweight, and combined with his combat webbing, the term heavy didn't seem like enough. Not when one was running, no.
The terrain was terrible, too. It was a forest, which he didn't have any problem at all with. His black rig blended in well enough with that. Not that it mattered. Preds used thermal vision primarily anyway. But it was also snowing, and he was wearing his black rig. And his survival pack. Trudging through snow with even a few more pounds than necessary was hard. Carrying a dead-weight survival pack that seemed like it weighed a ton was even worse. Even if the suit was proven to hide heat signals, it made him feel as though he'd be slotted on sight. Humans would do that, and so would Yautja, he was sure. Granted, the Yautja might not see him.
He hoped it didn't have a motion tracker.
It was cold, and the suit just barely helped with that. He had personally had some insulation put into the helmet, considering it seemed a size too big anyway, and wished that he had a completely sealed suit. Even through the cold, though, he managed to end up sweating, the bandanna he wore under the helmet fixing that problem right away. He was nervous, maybe even afraid. But that wouldn't stop him. I hope not, anyway.
His HUD flashed through several databanks, and he kept his eye on his compass. He slowed down a little as the trees began to clear. He had his M41A in his hands, pointed at the clearing. He began moving slowly, placing his feet just so that they wouldn't end up hitting any bushes or branches. He came to a complete stop, and set the pack on the ground, almost letting out a sigh of relief. But he didn't. No need to alert anything to his presence.
He opened up the pack, and began sorting through all the things he had in it. He muttered a few things, which one could easily assume to be curses toward the backpack. He removed a pair of binoculars from the pack, letting the visor of the helmet retract inside of it so that he could look through them.
Sure enough, the building was there. And the doors were closed. He had only brought a couple of explosives, but this must've been a factory of some sort, because the doors were thick enough to keep out anyone who wanted in, and there were several pipes and chimneys.
He bit his lip slightly until the taste of blood persuaded him otherwise. The chimneys would have been wise enough, but they were far too high for him to get to. Not unless he could climb walls, anyway. So he repacked the binoculars, then sealed the pack back up, slinging it back over his shoulders. He then moved slowly toward the large pipes... Possibly a sewer system, because the smell was terrible. And it was dark. He felt the urge to take off his helmet and upchuck a few times, but bit his lip again to keep himself focused. The pipe was roughly a foot and a half in circumference, and he didn't even know how far deep. He took a breath of fresh air briefly, hoping to god that the filter would keep out any airborne toxins, and turned on the spotlamps on the sides of the helmet.
He got down on all fours, and began crawling through the pipe. The sludge in the pipe confirmed it... It was a sewer. And he instantly was glad he had gotten some gloves. It was warmer in here than it was outside, which was either a blessing or a curse. It made him feel better because it wasn't cold, but... The reason why it was warmer was disturbing. I really, really wish I didn't know what this was...
He was thinking to himself because he didn't want to make a sound. And it was a little reassuring, too.
He seemed to crawl roughly thirty feet, going through several twists and turns, with the occasional rat, when he finally came to an open area where he could stand up. The whole thing was a cube, with several pipes in the ceilings and walls. He began to think about it, and realized this could just have been a drain system. He was up to his knees in liquid, so he sure hoped so. He waded over to a particularly large pipe, and leaned against it for a moment. He brought the side of his head close to it... No sound. Nothing was in it. So it was either solid, or empty. He hoped empty was the case, because trying to go through a solid wasn't easy.
He let the pack fall from his shoulders slightly, but kept it from hitting the sludge. No need to have a *c'jit*-caked backpack when you were fighting a pred, he figured. He threw open the backpack, and began rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for pretty quickly: A remote bomb, and a roll of duct tape. He pulled out the bomb and its detonator as fast as he could, along with the tape then let the pack slide back over his shoulders, but not sealing it yet. He jammed the bomb against the pipe, and then brought up the roll of tape. He cut away four pieces of tape in eight-inch sections, then used it to strap the bomb against the pipe. He placed the tape back in the backpack, then sealed it up.
He set the bomb to go active by hitting a few buttons on its detonator, then crawled a small distance back through the pipe, a good ten feet. The risk was, it could cause the sludge to flow through the pipe and drown him, or collapse the pipe he was in. He hoped neither was the case, but slowly brought up the detonator. He took a deep breath and held it... Pressing the detonate button.
He heard the explosion, but his helmet was soundproofed enough to protect his hearing. What he heard clearly, though, was the sound of rushing water. He braced himself as it came, but found very little of it. It didn't move him, it just washed past him with an odor even more foul than the one he was in, and leaving him wet up to his chest. And now freezing. First thing when this is over, I'm taking a long, hot shower.
When he crawled back through the sewer, he found the room mostly empty... It must have forced out all the liquid. The pipe was blown clean open, minus the clean part, with a ladder inside it. He stepped inside it, and looked up. It was dark. Very dark. But the spotlamps attached to his helmet certainly fixed that problem. He was looking at a good fifty feet or more. There was a grate at the top. Great, another thing that everybody wants to do with a heavy kit.
He thought, placing his feet on the rungs, and his hands on the sides.
The climb sucked, but it wasn't leaking water, so that was fine. It was probably a drain at one point, as he predicted. When he got to the top, he found the grate was bolted shut. He let his teeth grind for a moment, then let his right hand fall away from the ladder. He nearly lost his grip due to the kit, but held on. He balled his hand into a fist, and a blade that was about four or five inches ejected from the knuckle plate on the glove. He had paid quite a bit of money for the parts to make this thing.
He jammed it into the edge of the grate, then pulled it out. He did it again on the opposite edge, and another hold went through. He continued this until all four edges had four perforations. He took a hold on the ladder again with his right hand, then let go with his left, punching the grate. It caused the remaining metal to break away and be pushed to the side. There was a warm sensation that washed over him. Almost hot. That isn't natural for an abandoned factory to be warm, is it?
He climbed the remaining foot or so, and took a look around. He didn't like what he saw.
There were skulls, bleached white, everywhere. Human, animal, and several species he couldn't even identify. There were also several weapons and tools that he couldn't identify, which he assumed were used to strip whatever flesh or blood there was left from the bone. He was in enemy territory. He turned off the spotlamp to avoid detection, but raised the pulse rifle again instantly... Just in case the bastard was waiting around the corner. He began to question the level of training they'd go through to ensure they knew what they were doing.