FAIRCHILD, ALEXANDER

24

MALE

BISEXUAL

TASK BOARD

ASSASSIN/ MEDIC

arms

Alexander Fairchild is the man with a thousand masks. A task board assassin charged with hunting down and killing potentials, he is currently working undercover as an assistant medic in the Gamma sector. However, the day job is yet another pretence, as he moonlights as the mastermind behind one of the largest drug smuggling rings in the biome, since the contacts made in the criminal underworld are invaluable for locating those that don't fit into the system. While this is known to the higher officials on the task board, Alex still has to be careful to dodge the other authorities, as he knows that everything will be denied if he is ever caught. The combination of criminal risk and the heady rush from chasing down individuals with access to powers he can only imagine means that he is constantly living on a knife's edge, and the constant juggling of three different lives means that he cannot afford to take a break for fear he drops a ball. Currently he is thriving, as the challenge keeps him from boredom, but it will be interesting to see what happens if everything gets too much for him. While his assignment was to worm his way into the groups of people living outside the law, his enjoyment of the charade means that he has possibly taken it further than he was ever supposed to, and his ventures are bringing in obscene amounts of wealth that are currently residing entirely in his own pocket. I would love to see what happens when he eventually finds that he can't keep up all of his roles anymore, and whether he returns as a meek little soldier to the task board or rebels and pursues power for himself. He's also never cared about another human being before, so it will be interesting to see what happens when he makes some sort of emotional connection with anyone, whether it be friend, lover or enemy.

Alex is charming. He always has the right words and the right expression, fitting in effortlessly with whatever group he finds himself in. He lies as easily as breathing and has an established system for keeping them in order, careful not to trip over the stories he weaves around others. Like moths to a flame, people are drawn to him, and he is usually surrounded by a group of adoring sycophants, entranced by the way he makes the impossible sound possible. Given his need to present different faces to the world, it's unsurprising that the constant practice has made him a master at creating different masks to fit each situation. His talent with words has also led him to be rather successful at manipulating others around him, as he's careful to push people into things they consider entirely their own idea. Why waste time with physical brutality when words slip out so much easier?

Alex is a perfectionist. He finds little value in doing anything half-heartedly, so takes great pains to make sure he always performs at the highest level. Plans are rehearsed over and over again, personas endlessly practiced in front of the mirror, and he has a set morning routine for all of his combat exercises. He hates feeling like he's losing control so tries to keep himself one step ahead, constantly strategising and evaluating the best option available to him. If anything manages to make his mask of composure slip, it will be feeling like he is entirely powerless, as he is likely to lash out in a claustrophobic attempt to escape.

Brought up to be a killer, Alex feels no remorse when killing anyone, whether they be target or innocent bystander. Similarly, he feels nothing when he destroys people emotionally or mentally instead, content to use them when they have something he needs and drop them as soon as he's finished. This complete lack of empathy is normally covered up with a veneer of humanity, but occasionally glimpses of the monster underneath shine through. Unlike some of his peers, Alex takes no pleasure in the act of murder itself, and will not draw it out for the sake of causing pain. It is simply a job to be done.

Life is a game, and Alex plays to win. He lives for the thrill of competition, especially with his life on the line. Everything is a contest and he constantly tests himself against everyone he comes into contact with. He's a bad loser, as he constantly expects to be the victor, but finds himself intrigued by those who manage to beat him in one of his imagined challenges. While enjoyable, constantly being unchallenged is boring, and it isn't until he finds himself desperately scrabbling to stay on top that he truly feels alive. It is this need for constant engagement that sees him throw himself into risky ventures, as he can think of no worse fate than a monotonous, safe existence.

Alex is quick to seize any opportunity that might give him a step up in the world. He is unwilling to settle for second best and constantly strives for improvement, both in his own abilities and his standing in the world. Not overly bothered by morals, he's happy to do whatever it takes to get a foot up, and feels no pity for the people he steps on along the way. The chances of him eventually getting himself in over his head are high, as he is arrogant in assessing his own abilities, but so far a combination of charisma, talent and blind luck has allowed him to scrape through each trial without permanent injury.

I - age 8


It was the first time in his life that his father had told him he'd done well. The man's face hovered on the screen for a few moments more before the connection cut, leaving Alex clutching his sheet of grades to his chest, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his lashes. Eight years old and it was the first time he had achieved perfect grades. His aunt had been visibly delighted when she'd picked him up from school, picking him up and hugging him despite his attempts to escape, and his uncle had patted him on the head and given him a present when they'd sat down for dinner that evening. It was still wrapped, on his bed; telling his father the news had taken precedence over anything else.


He knew his father wanted to be a soldier, so he tried his best to make it a reality. His uncle had taken him aside once and explained that, if he wanted to, he could choose something else to do with his life. Little Alex had also been told that it could be a secret between them, that he could wait and surprise daddy later. Having had experience with how little his father liked surprises, Alex refused to even consider the idea of wanting something else.


II - age 14


His body ached, constant reminder of the exercise he'd just finished. Constantly pushed to his limits, cajoled and bullied into somehow, amazingly, overcoming them, it was unsurprising that each session left him sore and exhausted. It seemed impossible that six months ago he'd still been living in Alpha, living a life he hadn't realised was so easy. While he'd realised, objectively, that the change of school would mean a focus on physical education, he hadn't been prepared for just how tired he was. No relief, no pause for them to collect themselves, and any failure was met with yet more punishment. Despite it, he refused to break; this was his life now, and he would never forgive himself if he didn't excel.


III - age 18


The man was dead at his feet. There was a bright ache of disappointment as he realised the whole thing was over, even if he was rather proud of his achievement. He'd never felt so alive before, so intense, and he barely noticed that his shoulder was bleeding from where one of his opponent's bullets had clipped it. Useless. His mouth twisted up as he sneered down at the corpse, asserting his victory. Despite having access to supernatural power, the man had quickly swapped to a gun when he realised that his control wasn't strong enough to cause Alex much of an issue at all. It had been a simple game of cat and mouse and he'd toyed with his victim. He'd run, but in the end the freak had been caught.


He'd spent the last few years wondering just how he would feel when he first killed someone. He'd heard that people threw up, or had nightmares for weeks. Others enjoyed it. He was surprised by just how little he'd felt taking a life. Sad that the game had ended, happy that he'd won, but otherwise uncaring about the murder. Satisfying enough, as he'd been worried that he would turn out to be one of the ones that enjoyed it, and the idea of anything having control over his life irritated him. He toed the body one last time before he turned on his heel, leaving it for the instructors to do whatever with. He'd passed his test and killed his target.


IV - age 20


The woman smiled and sucked on the cherry she'd pulled out from her cocktail. A garish, neon pink concoction, he could smell the sickly sweet beverage from across to the table. Having watched her turn down two men at the bar, Alex had figured she could be a challenge. Originally she'd been uninterested in talking to him as well, but a little charm and a hint of wit had seen her change her mind and accept his offer of a drink. Now that they were sat chatting in the relative privacy of a booth, Alex was bored. It had been too easy to convince her, and it was apparent that she would definitely accept if he asked her to come back to his.


Too easy. He would make his apologies and move on, looking for bigger and better game. Young, charming, and in peak physical condition, he had little trouble getting whoever he wanted. Unless he discovered someone aesthetically interesting, he unwaveringly sought out the target most likely to turn him down. The challenge of changing their mind kept the evening from getting dull, and it gave him a trophy to admire when he finally got them back to his bed.

V - age 21

"Did you really think you were going to be able to run forever?"

Alex cocked his head and regarded the man cowering in the corner of the room, hands pressed desperately against his ears as if it would somehow stop all of this. Upturned furniture was scattered around the room, the occasional item charred and broken. Fuck, he hated the ones who could control fire.

Despite the care taken with the mission, the plan that had taken months to put into action, it had been relatively easy to bring him down. While his powers were the strongest Alex had ever come into contact with, he'd ended up panicking and his control had disappeared, leaving him just as likely to kill himself as those chasing him. The team that had been sent in had consisted of eight men; Alex decided they'd probably have managed with three. He supposed it hardly mattered. The plan had worked perfectly, and they had achieved the result they wanted. A powerful potential taken into custody unharmed, mind intact enough to be used for torture or testing or whatever they did with them afterwards. While he'd had some basic courses on how to make prisoners talk, they usually were carted away immediately to specialists. Suited him fine, as he'd rather spend his time hunting them down than chatting with them afterwards.

He fingered the gun at his side, reloaded and reholstered after it was apparent the victim was down. In the end he'd only fired two shots -- only one that had potentially found its target -- and had done very little else other than chase the target. He'd had more stressful sessions in the simulator. Too junior to be allowed to take on the more dangerous missions alone, he would just have to bide him time and prove his skill before he could truly challenge himself. Didn't anyone else get tired of feeling so safe the entire time?


VI - age 23


The plastic seat he’d taken cut into his thighs and made him shift uncomfortably. He twisted the top off another sachet of sugar and poured the contents into his coffee, twirling the stirrer absently as he stared out of the window. Funny how, despite so many technological advancements, synthetic coffee still tasted like shit. He swallowed a mouthful anyway and grimaced as it burnt his throat.


He'd been working the job a week and was already bored out of his mind. His new identification papers listed him as Emrhys Gabriel, a recently trained medic posted out to Gamma on a simple first assignment. So far he'd been expected to fetch and carry, and perform basic tests while his boss scrutinised his attempts. If he had been a fully trained medical student, Alex would have felt offended by the clear distrust in his abilities, even though plenty had assured him that Dr. Ekkar was just unwilling to delegate to anyone. As it was, the level expected of him didn't even approach what he'd been taught during the first aid classes at school or the more advanced courses he'd been expected to attend during his training to join the Task board. Medical school, clearly, was a waste of time.


At least it was an easy assignment. He'd had a spattering of other short term missions, but this was the first that was likely to take more than a year. He just hoped that, if he had to spend a year diagnosing sprained wrists, he didn't end up hanging himself with the bandages. At least the job was easy, and didn't leak over his specified hours, giving him plenty of time to enjoy himself afterwards. As it was, Dr. Ekkar had already been giving him shopping lists of errands to run away from the surgery, so he'd taken the hint and disappeared for a few hours.


The only interesting part of the job was the clientele. While most were mundane, boring citizens, he'd seen more than a few that had definitely belonged to the illustrious collection of men and women chosen to head into the void. Alex was just thankful one of them wasn't him. Hunting down potentials was one thing, investigating the nightmare rumours of the void was quite another. He'd been instructed -- quite firmly -- that part of the reason behind this cover was so that he could keep abreast of what was going on here, as no mission could return without causing at least a few ripples in the area. As a medic, he was perfectly placed to be one of the first to hear about what had happened. Who knew what people might say when they were drugged up with painkillers.


VII - age 23


It was surprising, really, just how easy this was. Of course, the groundwork had been laid for years and carefully controlled by his predecessors, but Alex hadn't realised just how easy it was to transport contraband between the sectors. For all their vaulted security, he'd yet to have one shipment picked up by the authorities. It helped that he was being fed information by his commanding officers, helping to avoid detection and highlighting key opportunities.


Drug smuggling. Unsurprisingly, most of the population were quite keen to get their hands on something to help them forget the dismal realities of their lives. Alex was quite happy to provide, stealing ground inch by inch as he expanded the business whenever opportunity presented itself. It was making him remarkably unpopular with some of the other groups trying the same thing, but he wasn't particularly worried about that. He was careful to keep his identity secret from everyone, even meeting his own deputies with his identity covered. A mixture of costume, makeup, voice changing technology and clever thinking kept him from ever being put into a situation where he might be identified. Just in case, he'd been careful to cultivate the image that the man working as his second in command actually headed the venture.


He was finding himself quickly becoming addicted to his little illegal business. While he'd worried that the posting would be boring, stuck trying to discover information about groups of people that naturally kept themselves close to the ground, he'd found himself quickly pulled into the game. Outwitting the authorities, competitors, even allies. It was entertaining, if a little too safe to be truly exciting.

MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE