Post by Zeke Gifford on Mar 29, 2011 23:32:18 GMT -5
Secret Code: the clocks march on forever
Name: Zeke Gifford (?)
Date of Birth: 1919
Place of Birth: (?)
Age: 28
Profession: Odd end jobs/Spy
Appearance: Dyed black hair(unknown natural hair color), hazel eyes, wears blacks and browns with gold and silver trim. Wears brass glasses that can be tinted.
Personality: He is a master of blending, being able to adapt to any situation by being who ever he needs to be. In private however, he is very calm and serene, very level headed.
Blood Type: (?)
Race/Special: Human
History: A spy for America's government during the war, he was deported back to America when Germany won world war II. Picking up odd end jobs here and there he still spies for the American rebels, a small group of people who fight against the German government that now control them. Not a lot is known about him, as he has several alias' and is a very accomplished liar.
~Family~
Parents: General Sebastien Gifford, Officer in the US Air Force/ Deceased. Mother unknown
Sibling: Only Child (?)
Note: Please note, this profile is filled out as best as possible. The question marks noted above = (?) = are to be taken as either unknown as fact or not known. Any information that can be filled out at a later date will be edited and included in this report.
Sample Post: Lurking in the back alley of a small restaurant and a dingy bar, he looked discreetly left and right, watching every little movement that caught his eyes. He had arrived early to case the meeting spot, making sure there wasn't a set up, and planning his escape route in case things went sour in this little deal.
Taking a deep breath and relaxing into a protective stance, he checked his pocket watch casually, noting that the other party had two minutes to arrive before he left. He did not deal with late people. No exceptions. Being late could mean a trap, being late could get you killed.
Pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, his eyes flickered to the back corner of the bar, noticing a door open and a man step out, lighting a cig. Watching the tip glow orange in the dark, he tracked the man as the orange glow came closer, meandering over to where he was standing.
"Nice night out." An exhale of smoke accompanied this statement.
"If you enjoy the city lights." His glasses flashed again as he moved them.
"You an old country boy?" The man stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, grew up in the country side." He watched the man closely, ready to draw his hidden gun if anything suspicious happened.
The man withdrew his hands from his pockets, a small envelope almost hidden in one hand. Putting his own hands in his coat pockets, he too took hold of an envelope with his right hand, fingering his gun in the left pocket at the same time. Keeping his eye on the man and watching the rest of the alley way, he extended the hand with the envelope, taking the mans hand an exchanging the envelopes within seconds.
"Enjoy the night." He stepped back, still ready to draw his gun. The man nodded, the cig almost burned out, and took a step back as well, drawing a last puff on it before crushing it into the ground. The man looked up from his crushed smoke, searching the alley way which was now empty except for himself. Shaking his head, he walked out of the alley.
Zeke had high tailed it after the exchange, taking the envelope and stashing it in a special hidden pocket inside his outside pocket. Taking a different route than the way he had arrived, he walked half a mile before ducking down into the subway station and hopping aboard the next train, not knowing where it was going.
Name: Zeke Gifford (?)
Date of Birth: 1919
Place of Birth: (?)
Age: 28
Profession: Odd end jobs/Spy
Appearance: Dyed black hair(unknown natural hair color), hazel eyes, wears blacks and browns with gold and silver trim. Wears brass glasses that can be tinted.
Personality: He is a master of blending, being able to adapt to any situation by being who ever he needs to be. In private however, he is very calm and serene, very level headed.
Blood Type: (?)
Race/Special: Human
History: A spy for America's government during the war, he was deported back to America when Germany won world war II. Picking up odd end jobs here and there he still spies for the American rebels, a small group of people who fight against the German government that now control them. Not a lot is known about him, as he has several alias' and is a very accomplished liar.
~Family~
Parents: General Sebastien Gifford, Officer in the US Air Force/ Deceased. Mother unknown
Sibling: Only Child (?)
Note: Please note, this profile is filled out as best as possible. The question marks noted above = (?) = are to be taken as either unknown as fact or not known. Any information that can be filled out at a later date will be edited and included in this report.
Sample Post: Lurking in the back alley of a small restaurant and a dingy bar, he looked discreetly left and right, watching every little movement that caught his eyes. He had arrived early to case the meeting spot, making sure there wasn't a set up, and planning his escape route in case things went sour in this little deal.
Taking a deep breath and relaxing into a protective stance, he checked his pocket watch casually, noting that the other party had two minutes to arrive before he left. He did not deal with late people. No exceptions. Being late could mean a trap, being late could get you killed.
Pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, his eyes flickered to the back corner of the bar, noticing a door open and a man step out, lighting a cig. Watching the tip glow orange in the dark, he tracked the man as the orange glow came closer, meandering over to where he was standing.
"Nice night out." An exhale of smoke accompanied this statement.
"If you enjoy the city lights." His glasses flashed again as he moved them.
"You an old country boy?" The man stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, grew up in the country side." He watched the man closely, ready to draw his hidden gun if anything suspicious happened.
The man withdrew his hands from his pockets, a small envelope almost hidden in one hand. Putting his own hands in his coat pockets, he too took hold of an envelope with his right hand, fingering his gun in the left pocket at the same time. Keeping his eye on the man and watching the rest of the alley way, he extended the hand with the envelope, taking the mans hand an exchanging the envelopes within seconds.
"Enjoy the night." He stepped back, still ready to draw his gun. The man nodded, the cig almost burned out, and took a step back as well, drawing a last puff on it before crushing it into the ground. The man looked up from his crushed smoke, searching the alley way which was now empty except for himself. Shaking his head, he walked out of the alley.
Zeke had high tailed it after the exchange, taking the envelope and stashing it in a special hidden pocket inside his outside pocket. Taking a different route than the way he had arrived, he walked half a mile before ducking down into the subway station and hopping aboard the next train, not knowing where it was going.
