Post by jervistetch on Aug 13, 2009 19:25:38 GMT -5
JERVIS XAVIER TETCH
Nicknames: Nothing endearing. Most people that find themselves in the unfortunate position of working with him (or for him) call him Tetch.
Alias[es]: The Mad Hatter
Age: 35
Physical Appearance:
Jervis looks like a man whom society has abandoned for far too long... and his bizarre attempts at deliberately startling anyone who dare look his way are highly successful. He stands tall, about six feet in height, and he plays this up by wearing boots with a large (often six to eight inches) platform base. Years spent indoors, far away from the sun, have caused his skin to become very ashen. His hair is various lengths (he chops it off himself when it catches his fancy), often dyed black and is usually bedraggled. Perched atop the grungy mess... his trademark... one of the many countless hats that, over the years, have become quite the obsession for our Mister Tetch.
Jervis prefers classic clothing (often resembling a Victorian era gentleman), wearing full suits or tails made of highly impractical fabrics. His clothing is all custom made by his own hands, as it is very difficult to find such apparel in the boring metropolis of Gotham. He is fond of bold colors and patterns, and has a penchant for mixing the two when they ought not be mixed... as contrasting outfits are highly pleasing to his eye. He accents such attire with classic pieces such as a silver cased stopwatch, a monocle and a cane.
And of course, to play up his bland (but menacing) features, he dons makeup... often creating a mask to hide behind. His inner artist making him look all the more disfigured and grotesque.
Distinguishing Marks:
Both arms are tattooed with full sleeves of various artwork.
Played By: Marilyn Manson
Strengths:
Mind Control - Well, when you say it like that...
Jervis uses the newest technologies to dabble in his mind control-
Mayhap dabble is not the correct word?
Who is writing this, Tetch?
All apologies, Miss Katherine. Please continue.
As I was saying, Jervis uses the newest technologies to implement his mind controlling mechanisms. Paired with various mind-altering substances (opiates, narcotics, hallucinogenics and/or sedatives) he is able to attack the subconscious part of the brain, thus metamorphosing exact thoughts and ideas of his victim. His victim becomes highly susceptible to suggestion (very similar to hypnosis), responding to Jervis's requests.
Oh yes, I simply adore it.
Gadgets - Jervis has created many complex gadgets to assist in the aforementioned mind control. He is a technological genius in his own right. He has spent countless years in secret, developing his "toys" - which, for the most part, are toys. Teddy bears, porcelain dolls, miniature tea sets (though he doesn't stop at children's playthings... he has been known to do the same with iPods and cellphones)... all are laced with some form of his opiates (that are transmitted via the skin). When absorbed epidermically the drugs work hand in hand with the inner mechanics of his inventions. His hidden mechanical devices emit subliminal messages which, in turn, cause his victims to submit to his every whim.
Seductive Childlike Mind - Some would find fault in this, and determine it to be a weakness. However, it would be quite erroneous. Jervis can appear to be quite vulnerable and helpless, attracting his prey with his "innocence". He plays the classic case of a lost child with perfection, leaving no hint of the psychotic genius buried underneath ready to spring. Woe be to those who fall for this hoax. Jervis has no qualms with his perverse nature, and never falters at exploiting his victims.
Weaknesses:
The Jabberwock - Oh yes, it is real. He has seen it through the looking glass. There are times when he is sure it will be the death of him. He has watched its efforts to break through the mirror into his world, and is certain that the time will come when he will have to battle the vile creature.
Alice - Oh sweet Alice. How he adores her. How he wants nothing more than to make her his own. In reality, Jervis is enchanted by any petite blonde-haired, blue eyed female. His actions, thoughts and speech are thwarted at the sight of such a beauty. She strikes him quickly, and without remorse, that naughty little imp, and he is determined to pin her down, like a butterfly, and keep her forever.
Hats - His obsession with hats sometimes leaves him open for attack. His obsession with hats sometimes hinders his ability to function. He is smitten by them so much, in fact, that even the simplest actions can be upset by his spying one. He must touch them, breathe them in, adorn himself with them. It's really all too much for him to let one slip past without some sort of interference on his part.
Mental Illness - Jervis, at one point in his life or another, has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and bi-polar disorder. He suffers from severe delusions, often failing to make the distinction from the real world and Wonderland. This haunts him throughout his daily life, and he often slips from one world into the other without notice.
Personality Traits:
Jervis is highly eccentric. A life comprised of being an outcast and an affection for Lewis Carroll have left their imprints on a highly susceptible man.
His world has been transformed into the works of Mister Carroll... where he spends much of his time on his obsessive search for Alice. Qualities of Wonderland have taken over his real life. In fact, anyone he comes in contact with is given a Wonderland persona for his amusement.
However, he is a quiet man when left to his own devices. He constantly wrestles with his inner demons. His thoughts are not normal thoughts... many times his inner dialogue rhymes. And he speaks this way on occasion, using forced rhyme as a defense mechanism when he feels threatened.
Around other "criminal masterminds" he feels superior, sure that no one can match his intellect. He talks down to most people, assuming their minute brains can't possibly keep up. In reality, his strange jargon (which makes perfect sense to him) distances him from anyone else... which is why they may have such a difficult time trying to "keep up". He is not an easy person to understand once he gets started on his rhyming rants. Most of the time he speaks metaphorically, twisting words around as he sees fit.
All in all, he feels as if he doesn't belong in modern society. His choice of era would most certainly lead him backwards into the ending years of the 19th century. This presents itself in his daily life via his appearance, his mannerisms and his speech.
Secret(s/)Motive(s): Alice - He simply must find Alice. She's constantly running late for his tea parties. Such disrespect simply will not do. And once he finds her, he shan't let her slip away again. Not this time. He's got a special treat for her in the form of a secret room from which she won't escape.
Family Members: None
Partners: None
History:
I've never been impressed with what some of you would call "The Age of Information." People are just too distracted by technology anymore, never bothering to look up from their digital screens for a moment, not one moment, to speak to one another. It is maddening, methinks.
I jest. I am just as consumed by it as you are... only my intrigue lies in the small bits of it that most of you never see; the inside mechanics of those hand held cell phones that are so fragile. It's amazingly easy to hide my toys in your toys. And the smartest thing about it is that none of you ever know! You're so involved with your busy, meaningless lives that you don't recognize the effects of my playthings until it is far too late.
Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself? Let me rewind for you, dear reader.
I was born to a troubled woman. She was only sixteen years of age when my father came calling. She only knew him the one night, so she'd never discovered that he'd been a sociopath. I found this out once I'd been in Arkham for a year. What a statuesque man he was; so angelic, so sublime. I was the spitting image of him, it only made sense that he and I would eventually discover our sharing something in common with that same whore of a woman I called "mother". But I digress...
Her young life was spent working when she wasn't taking care of me. Though I don't believe taking care of a child exactly means locking him away in his room while you're in the next room spreading your legs for whomever will buy you your next high. But such is life. We all have our different opinions of why things are the way they are. Me? I blame my heroin-riddled mother for my issues. I've been told, by several Arkham doctors, that it is the healthiest route to go.
When I was eight years old, one of her many beaus, to keep me out of the way, gave me a ratted copy of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland". I became very attached to that book. It accompanied me wherever I ventured, even to school. Of course I was ridiculed for it, but I was ridiculed for many things... thus it was the least of my concerns.
Friends were not easy to come by but I made do. One of the girls in my third grade class, Alice Hubbard, became my one true companion. I have to admit I only befriended her because of her name. But it grew far deeper than that as we grew up together; each in our own abusive households, each with our own abusive behaviors. She turned to cutting herself up, something I discovered when, one night, she took her clothes off in front of me. We were fourteen at the time, and I was mortified. I made her vow that she would stop, and she promised... but I later found out that she'd still been injuring herself. That was after she'd committed suicide.
I was sixteen.
After that I isolated myself from everyone around me. Life was too much to deal with. My abusive crack whore mother took advantage of me every chance she got, like using my summer job to feed her addiction. I withdrew into my own world, one where Alice was still alive and loved me. One that didn't subject me to the pain of having to live without my only confidante. Wonderland.
I became so obsessed with finding my own Wonderland that I began pilfering her drugs when she was passed out. Many narcotic addictions later I was taken to Arkham, where I was rehabilitated and thrust back out into society, a better person. After I was "cured" I was able to go to college, where I studied science and technology. The three years spent in Arkham afforded me the luxury of being without technology, so there was quite a bit of pleasure in discovering the newest gadgets on the market. I was like a kid in a candy store.
It didn't take me too long to figure out that I could use such gadgets on an unsuspecting public. I began testing out different subliminal messages via said gadgets, thrilled at the results. It was amazing to me how susceptible the human mind was. It still amazes me. And people, in their rush to always have the newest, best products available to them, have no idea that they are being sabotaged and led to their own slaughter.
Like little lambs.
Your Name: Katie
Age: 20 something
Means of contact: cryptina13@yahoo.com
Passphrase:Admin Edit
Roleplay example:
"You simply must have a scone, my dear."
But Alice refused to acknowledge his request. Instead, it seemed, his words fell on deaf ears. Jervis cocked his head to the right, taking in the petite blonde beauty. Her eyes were lifeless behind their thick flaxen lashes. Her mouth had fallen slightly open as he spoke, and he was sure at any moment she would politely accept.
But she didn't. She didn't even blink.
Jervis situated the antique plate of scones on the round oak table in front of his guest, and looked at his Alice with discerning eyes.
"You really must eat something Alice," he quietly explained, "You've not eaten in days."
But if she heard him, she didn't express it in any way. Her fingers failed to move from the apron in her lap. He watched them with curious eyes, waiting to see if they would reach for the plate. But the pale digits didn't even flinch.
"A riddle then!" he exclaimed, "The maker makes it but doesn't use it. The buyer buys it but doesn't need it. The one who needs it never knows it. What is it?"
Her silence made him smile. She was thinking about it.
Jervis wrapped a gloved hand around the handle of the silver teapot and motioned as if to quietly ask if she would like her cup refilled. He pretended that her silence was an affirmation. The steaming hot tea spilled into the tiny porcelain cup, and steam wafted upwards.
"Cream?" he asked, "Sugar?"
He picked up the sugar bowl and delicately lifted the sugar tongs out, gesturing to her cup. She watched his motions from across the small table with never changing eyes. Jervis smiled shyly as he lifted up a small square of sugar.
"One lump or two?" he asked.
Her lack of response prompted him to assume she wanted two. Alice preferred her hot tea in syrup form. The lumps of sugar fell into her cup, making the hot liquid splash. He giggled to himself, hoping she would join in. But she didn't.
"Oh, Alice," he sighed, "You're far too quiet. Isn't that right, Mister Hare?"
Beside him the small white rabbit didn't even twitch its nose. Jervis looked down at the rabbit, a grin spreading across his face. He picked the animal up by the ears, holding in front of his face so that its shining eyes aligned with his.
"Why, you're nothing but a stuffed rabbit!" he chortled, poking the toy with his velvet covered finger, "Look, Alice! This bunny is an impostor!"
Was that a smirk he saw pulling at the corner of her mouth?
"Have you guessed the riddle yet, Alice?" he questioned, dropping the stuffed animal on the floor, "Would you like a hint?"
Her growing silence persuaded him to answer.
"A coffin, Alice, a coffin. Much like the one you're in now."
Beside him the girl slumped to the right, her arm falling from its position in her lap. Her head fell along with it, snapping forward. The vertical wooden box that he'd arranged at the table, so that she could join him, creaked before it fell backwards, carrying her with it. Alice disappeared from the table with the sound of her body hitting the floor. The smell of death fluttered around the table. Jervis frowned at his guest. She really should have been more concerned with her offending fragrance.
"I take it you are finished with your tea then, Alice," he remarked, "I hope you do not mind if I finish mine. Oolong is one of my favorites."
