Johnathan B Flury

Basic Information

• Basic Info

  • Name: Johnathan B Flury
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: IronInsanity

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  |Name| Johnathan Boiko Flury
  | Gender-Sexuality| Male-Hetro
  |Height| 5’5”/ 161.5cm
  |Weight| 192LB/ 87.0kg
  |Eyes| Pale Storm Blue
  |Hair| Dark hazel streaked with faint gold
  
  Nationality| USA / Ukraine
  |Spoken Languages| English/ Spanish/ Basic Eastern Slavic
  |BirthDay-Age| Feb 9, 1986 – 32
  
  |Ability| –Chalk Path-
  
  Via chalk, one can make a drawing of a needed pathway to travel on. Such as a ladder or steps to reach a roof, a rope and foot holds to shimmy up/down a wall or across a gap, or a slide for a quick exit.
  (I am using the word ‘Path’ to encompass all those ways of travel, as they are a means to get from point A to point B, or ‘pathways’ that can be drawn via the ability.)
  
  Condition:
  -A pathway cannot be drawn on: a broken surface (such as tree bark, a picket fence, a gravel/stone pebble driveway, that which does not provide the ability to make solid unbroken lines), non-solid surface, glass, a wet surface, a surfaces that is at or exceeding the boiling point of water.
  
  -A pathway can be drawn on: Wood, metal, stone, man mad materials, of a flat, semi flat, rounded nature that allows for solid unbroken lines to be drawn.
  
  Function:
  -Can make usable ladders, stairs, ropes, pullies, ramps, slides, and foot holds.
  -Paths can be used by others, not just the Agent that drew it.
  -16 paths may be mad with in a twenty-four hour period.
  -When the user creates a chalk path it is something invisible. There is no 3D image suddenly popping off the surface, it stays a drawing. But if you put your hand on the chalk-drawn, let’s say ladder step, it would actually feel like there was a ladder there to stand on and climb.
  
  Cons:
  -Only white chalk can be used to create a path. It can be of any kind and make, as long as it is white.
  -The path stays attached to the surface it was placed on. It cannot be picked up or moved.
  -After 24 hrs the path will become just a chalk drawing and unusable.
  -Gravity and physics very much apply, and those using the drawn path would feel it.
  -Whatever path is drawn must be used realistically as it would if not a drawing but the actual item it represents.
  -A pathway can only reach up to, at its highest or longest, 16 feet before it must end. A path is ended by completing the drawing. One path must be completed/ended before another is made.
  -The user must draw out the whole path. They must climb up what they had drawn so far to complete the rest.
  -Till the user finishes the whole path, no one else but them can use it.
  -Paths cannot be directly connected.
  -Water of any kind, from any source, will destroy the path.
  
  
  
  |Persona|
  
  Dry wit/ Cynic/ Persistent/ Dependable/ Stubborn/ Good Housekeeping/ Horrible Table Manners
  
  Cynicism with a smile, it can be hard to tell if John is joking or serious about his outlook on life. And with his dry wit in tow, a bit more then bitter too boot. He’s not the most approachable person either, seeming very work orientated with little room for anything else that may become personal. But if you come to him with a true need, or are out on mission with him, he’ll have your back no matter what. Patients is something he’s working on, as he has none, especially if you interrupt him, and brake or take something that’s not yours. John will also go after something to all possible ends if it grabs his attention.
  
  |Story|
  
  Johnathan grew up with his Grandmother May, on a goat farm in Illinois. May was a mischievous woman, with a laugh always in hand, and a heart full of giving… if you were a goat that is. She didn’t much care for people, even John some times, but she never neglected him, or any one that came to her with a real problem.
  
  When John entered the school system May had already been teaching him the basics, if albeit in an old style. One John found out the hard way was looked at oddly when he walked into his first class and took out a small chalk board and chalk rather than a note book and pencil. The teachers had a nice long chat with May when she came to pick John up. At the end of it John was allowed to keep his chalk board, as long as he had normal school supplies as well. He didn’t see what the big deal was, till the teasing started. But the more he was teased, the more he wanted to prove the other kids wrong and endeavored to use the little chalk board as often as possible.
  He won some fights and lost others, via words or fists, but in the end his determination got him a lot of respect, and a couple of good friends. And a couple of enemies too.
  
  Anna Goodwill and Gorge Buckley always had his back, and he theirs growing up. Both had found his obsession with the chalk board endearing or fascinating in a way, and seemed to have just accepted it as a part of him. Dug and Frank Rugger had made it their personal life mission to make Johns life miserable, and by extension Anna and Gorges as well. Anna was made of strong stuff, never seeming ruffled by what the brothers through their way. In fact she always found the best way to end or disengage from their encounters with them with out getting them all in trouble. After a while she'd earned the nick name Saint OF Goodwill that even the Rugger's called her. Gorge wasn't so noble, finding many times he'd have very much liked to see the brothers get in trouble. But fallowing Anna's example he dealt with them in his own way, cleaver ways. He always had some trick up his sleeve for the Rugger's, a last minuet diversion, a miss leading path, tangled words that got them out of a jam. John took to calling him the Magician, mostly because Gorge fancied himself as one, but also because he many of his tricks seemed like that magic tricks. They warred with each other all through their school years.
  
  By the time John was an obtuse, unmanageable teen entering high school found he, much like his grandmother, preferred goats to people. Save for his friends that is. Much of the teasing only got worse, but he'd learned to swing less and walk away more, throwing up dry hummor in his wake that left most bullies disatisfide.
  John also found he couldn’t put off his curiosity about who his parents were. All the years of listening to other kids talking about their own and all the holidays highlighting time spent with family had built up to a painful bruse. John had asked about them before, but May had always managed to doge the question, or redirect it.
  So John plied himself to the task of braking his grandma’s iron will! Every minute of every day he hounded May with questions about his parents, working it into every conversation, topic, and song. Three weeks of this was fraying May’s nerves, but she still hadn’t given in. Thus John deployed a drastic tactic… and painted his questions on the goats. It worked better then John had hoped, as he found himself in a head lock and his hair nooged away by May as soon as he walked in the door from school.
  Sound thrashing given, May gave in and told John bluntly about his parents. They were dead. Murdered over a petty disagreement. That alone hadn’t driven May to leave though, no, the lack of justice had. When she’d talked to the authorities it was as if May was putting in a complaint of a prank gone too far on cattle rather than two dearly loved and dead people.
  May didn’t give John much time to digest the answers he’d longed to hear before pulling out a pair of rifles she had hidden away. She gave one to him, saying it was past time he knew how defend himself. John hadn’t needed time to think things over though. He gladly accepted the rifle and his Granma’s training, promising himself that there would be justice where ever they were.
  
  Too that end John perused a career in the local police force. Anna joined him in his persute, both going to police academy with intentions of serving in their home town. But at the end of it they'd both been offered positions in the Chicago S.W.A.T team. Anna for nagosheasions, and John for his skill with a rifle. Ana excepted happily, while John took some convincing. He'd never thought of doing something other then being a cop in his home town, keeping his family (he includes the goats in that) and friends safe. But non of them were there. Gorge had gone to collage for politics, Grandma May was on a goat farm tour, and even the Ruggers had taken flight by enlisting in the army. With some prodding from Anna and a couple of letters from May, John joined the Chicago S.W.A.T team and never regretted it.
  
  A few years down the road John and Anna had lost track of their home town, being wrapped up in their jobs. So it came as a great surprise when Anna got a call from Frank Rugger asking for help finding his kids whom had disappeared. The local police should have been taking care of such a thing, but as it turned out Fank WAS the local police. He'd run out of resources, and was running out of time to hope finding his son and daughter.
  Needless to say Anna told John and they both took some personal time to head back home and lend an unofficial s.w.a.t hand in finding the children.
  Gorge was the first to greet them when they arrived, wishing he'd thought to call them first, but as Mayer had had his hands full organizing search parties. It turned out more then the Rugger kids were missing. A lot about the town had changed, apparently in good way's, but John wasn't there to enjoy them. Setting their experience to work with the determination of the town a lead showed up soon and they fallowed it like blood hounds.
  The trail lead them to an abandoned iron works factory at the edge of town. John, Ana, Gorge, and Frank where the only ones there, the rest of the town fallowing up a couple of other leads they'd found. It felt like the old days when they were young, all together again fighting the odds. Only the Ruggers were on their side and the odds were whether or not they could find the kids.
  Entering the factory Gorge and Anna went low while John and Frank went high to search the grounds. It felt like hours went by while looking in every nook and cranny of the place till finely, from up on the roof looking down through a sky light, there they were. Knooked away in a corner so tall and tight you'd only see it from a high vantage point, and with good eyes. John started to call out to them when a hot pain ran through his right thigh, a shot ringing through his ears. Frank looked down at him with a fogged expretion not saying a word as clapping came from near by. It was Gorge, a wicked grin on his face, Anna fallowing behind, with that same fogged look on, not reacting to the seen in front of her at all. Gorge had waited his whole life for this, to see them unwittingly walk into a trap of his. Truth was he'd never liked any one in the small town and was looking forward to watching them all die slowly, one by one, in his plans. The best part was, he wasn't directly responsible for any one so far, having used hypnotism and drugs to get people to do the deeds for him, like now.
  With a wave of his hand, Gorge pleasantly asked Anna to go stand in front of John to save him, and told Frank he had to avenge his children. In slow moments, before John could will himself to rise, Anna was shot through the head, crumbling to the floor like she’d suddenly fallen asleep. All John clearly remembers from that point on was hearing himself yelling, and Gorge ordering Frank to grab him. There was a heavy feeling as he landed somewhere cold and hard after a fall, Gorges laughter echoing far above him as his words floated down with a pack of chalk.
  “Let’s see you draw your way out of this one and make it home John.” With fading footsteps John picked up the chalk.
  
  John woke up in his Gandma May’s house, lovingly tucked into his old bed, a baby goat curled up on his chest, chewing the sleeve to his night shirt. May told him he’d come limping up the back steps clutching a hand full of chalk and crying like she never knew he could. Fell right over when he’d gotten inside. May tucked him away some place safe before going about cleaning up the mess he’d left, and no sooner had she put the mop and bucket away then Gorge came calling. He’d been in a panic of worry over whether John was around, saying Frank had lost his mind when they’d found his children dead, killed Anna and himself but not before shooting John it seemed. But the only traces of John had been some blood in one of the deep bins in the factory. They’re hadn’t been a way out of it, yet he was gone, if he’d been there at all, and the strangest thing had been left behind; a chalk drawn ladder.
  May hadn’t told Gorge a thing, being the untrusting woman she was, sending him on his way with demands to hear from him immediately if they found John. The same John that seethed before her as he listened. When he was just well enough John gathered up his things and old rifle and headed out to pay back Gorge. May stopped him only long enough to give him a box of fresh of bullets and white chalk while straiten his coat caller. They both knew that seeing each other again wasn’t likely to happen, and they’d excepted it a having weighed the consequences of doing nothing. As May frowned proudly in her last fussing over John, he wondered at that moment if she’d known he’d been able to do that, make paths with chalk. He’d played around with it a few times since waking up on the farm, John didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but certainly not what he got. It made him feel like a character from one of those 90’s movies that somehow could interact with a 2d being. He still didn’t really believe it, and it still didn’t really matter for what he was going to do.
  
  Finding Gorge wasn’t hard, he’d proclaimed to the whole town he needed time to grieve and would be at home. The thought alone was sickeningly laughable to John and made it all the more easier to shoot his once best friend through a window in the back of the head.
  John left then, not just his home town but the country. He wasn’t about to go back to his old life after what had happened. Besides, he’d been pronounced dead, why not start over?
  
  |Extra|
  
  -Despises people with bratty, winey, and annoying attitudes.
  -Despises unwarranted bulling.
  -Anything roasted and edible he will try.
  -Has a goat body pillow to sleep with.
  -Enjoys classic books, like Sherlock, John Carter of Mars, and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
  -Likes jazz.
  
  |Medical|
  
  Blood Type} 0+
  Allergies} None known of.
  Scars} Across his knuckles. Under his chin. Broken nose. Bullet holes in left shoulder and right thigh.
  Ability Precautions} None
  
  |R.P Sample|
  “What?” John asked again dryly, still not believing what he’d just heard.
  “I ask if you got any good pics of girls man!” The twitchy, scruffy, young man said looking around like he was asking for a hit of crack rather than anything so stupid as pictures. It seemed the poor fool had mistaken the sniper case for camera gear, which in all honesty was what John had wanted. Why me? John asked himself as he made up his mind to play along for a moment.
  “Oh? Yeah, sure man. Got some riiight here.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a wallet case. He wrapped and arm around the young man’s shoulder, bringing him in close to see as he unfolded the case and let a long accordion of pictures spring out. The giddy smile slowly washed away from the strangers face with blinks.
  “U-umm… Those aren’t girls.”
  “What? Of course they are! Look at the utters. Gotta looove those.” Every single picture visible was of a goat.
  “Oh. Oh no man. I’m, um, I’m not into that.” The young man started trying to back away, but John just adjusted his arm to fall about his neck and squeezed a bit, stopping the fools retreat, making him squirm a bit. John brought his face close, putting on his best wide eyed scowle of a frown and flaring his nostrils to give himself an unhinged look.
  “What do you mean ‘not into that’?! Are these beautiful pictures not enough for you?! Are my girls not enough for you?!!” The man paled, panic filling his face as he stammered for words.
  “Ahh! Ah no! Th-they’re g-ggggodhelpme gorgeous! I-I meant I’m nooot into… to that price range! Ahhahaha! YEAH! Those haaave to be expensive! NO way I can afford those!”
  “Well, in that case.” John looked calm and cold as he dropped the pictures and brought a muzzled gun up into the man’s gut.
  “You shouldn’t have killed those families.” Two quick twitches of a finger on a trigger and the man was gurgling on his own blood, unable to scream. John let him fall to the ground, nudging his side a few times to chick if he was really out. He knelt down next to the stranger, taking his pulse. Still alive. John tapped his watch and started to talk as he reaching out and picked up the pictures tucking them back into his pocket.
  "Targets nutralized and ready for a blue light special. Heading to rondavue point now." He took one last look at the filth on the ground before turning to walking away, whispering as he went.
  “Their lives were priceless…”
  
  -=-=-=-=-=-
  
  |Weapon|
  Fists- the last slap of defense.
  guns and guns and more guns