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Brendon Gorman


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Full name: Brendon Gorman

Nickname: Betty

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Race: 1st Generation Coordinator

Occupation: Mobile Weapon Operator

Birthplace: Waterford, Ireland

Citizenship: Atlantic Federation

Personality: Brendon strives to be a spark in the abyss. Nothing less would do. For that reason he is a very cautious fellow. He watches for and deeply minds the opinions of others. Conformity is therefore his primary goal when dealing with strangers. This has the rather negative effect of fostering nervousness and desperation when he is prematurely "cut loose" from the group. With time, however, ambition and a desire for better things always takes root. Overconfidence quickly replaces his better reasoning until he is swiftly put back to square one thanks to an embarrassing mistake. One can only hope that death will never result from this grave cyclic fault.




Height: Five Feet and Ten Point Five Inches

Weight: One Hundred and Sixty-Seven Pounds

Hair Colour and Style: A dry mess of dirt brown sloppily hurriedly rushed into an acceptable shape. He would have taken more time with it if that was the norm for a run of the mill grunt.

Eye Colour: Myrtle Green

Identifying Marks: Sixteen Black Freckles

Skin Tone: Tanned

Build: Adequately Built

Clothing: Assigned uniforms are practically a second skin for Brendon. They not only bind him to a life that he feels fully secure in but it also gives him an overdue sense of purpose. When it's entirely impractical to wear his uniform, Brendon can most commonly be found in a sporty collared shirt and a pair of comfortable cargo pants. He finds the exceptionally helpful for carrying stuff.

Handiness: Southpaw




Mother: Carey Gorman

Father: Allen Gorman

Siblings: Sabrina Gorman

Wife/Girlfriend: Jane Teller


Personal History: There was an air of misery around the birth of Brendon Gorman. You could see it in the eyes of his Godparents, the blank stare of his only sister, and the desperate hysteria of his mother. His father regarded it all as nonsense. Genetic modification was not a crime in his eyes. The birth of a second child with the weaknesses of his sibling could not be tolerated. They would not and could not go through that hell again. His steadfast actions, however, carried the taint of an immense wealth of cash that had gone towards his son's future. A future free where the world would lay at his heir's feet.


Despite the insistence of several doctors, Allen Gorman managed to side step the issue of genetic testing. A declaration of inadequate funds was more than enough to cause the doctors to back down. Carey Gorman's fanatical screams of seeing and holding her son at all times also acted as a guard against the more suspicious members of the medical staff. The only real signs of their son's unnatural heritage manifested several months later. Brendon was able to haphazardly walk without assistance and blabber a nonsense stream of simple sounds. This was taken as a sign of being an early bloomer by various well wishers but Allen and Carey took it as an omen of things to come.


They were right.


Brendon raced down a path completely different from his sister. He grew strong rather than frailer. His eye sight became as sharp as a hawk's instead of continuously failing. An unforeseen illness had no bearing on his performance. His mind was sharp and his humbleness great. Sabrina, however, seemed to undermine his performance with her every breath. It seemed as if it didn't matter how far he progressed. Sabrina, the older sister, would always be there to spread the poison which ravaged her body. Her pessimism deeply affected her younger brother and to this day her taint can been in the cautiousness that pervades his personality.


Who could blame her though? As her life slowly slipped away from her, Brendon seemed to become further and further rooted into his own. He went through elementary school without incident. A baseball, basketball, soccer, and football league with high spirits but no victor's trophy. His teams never seemed to attract the same talent he so readily possessed. In high school things were quiet. He went out for varsity in several sports, made the teams, and then was soundly crushed by men who made it their lives to excel in what Brendon thought were merely games. He had a girlfriend, friends, and he was passing all his classes.


No one would have wanted more.


War was a thing of the past thanks to the PEACE treaty. Brief incidents flared up here and there thanks to the actions of zealous mercenaries but everything was fine. There was no need for any more soldiers, really. The idea of piloting had always attracted Brendon but his parents discouraged him every time it was brought up. “Why waste your life?” they reasoned. He had a vast amount of potential for other things. He did, at least, until he found Mr. and Mrs. Riegel sitting with his parents one day. They had glorious news about a true miracle:


Their daughter was pregnant.


He wanted to retreat. He dearly did. The sight of a crying Val brought him back for a short time though. It kept him from flying off and leaving it all behind. His future had narrowed itself to a narrow stream of what it had once been. There were recruiters before. There were managers now. There was security before. There was only responsibility now.


He never told them that he was signing up. He just filled out the forms, finished his senior year at Val’s side, and then he was gone. His newly born daughter, Ivy, almost caused him to stay but an adoption service whisked her away like the wind. The Riegel’s wanted their daughter to have a decent future, after all. It made everything easier. He didn’t have to worry about not knowing what to do in this world anymore. There would always be someone to tell him what to do now.


For a long, long time.


Military life proved to be just that. There was always some goal to rush towards. Be it finish basic training, attempt to qualify for a pilot's license, or practice operating a weapon. Brendon managed to excel at a moderate pace. He wasn't the top of the class but he was far from the bottom. In his instructor's opinions he was "too goddamn indecisive" but otherwise "born to fight Coordinators". They heeded his sparse wishes to become a pilot while simultaneously molding him in anyway they saw fit.


Ultimately, Brendon became moderately stable. He's currently finished basic training and awaiting the final confirmation for his qualification to attempt to become a pilot. He managed to find a steady girlfriend who writes him letters and sends him pictures. He figured out the in's and out's of being a basic pawn in the grand scheme of things. He even reconciled with his parents long enough to schedule a tenative face to face meeting at a later date. Everything is looking up as a great secret steadily looms over his fate.

Edited by Guest
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I'm curious, though: why is his nickname Betty? I just skimmed over the history, so pardon if I missed it there.


And be sure to formally request to join the EA, here on your thread.

Edited by Guest
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