Post by derek metre on Mar 15, 2008 20:23:48 GMT -5
The Character
Do you really know who you are?
Full Name: Derek Metre
Nickname: DRock. D.
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Grade: ((Working))
Occupation: Undercover Detective. Works with the Rocks.
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Celebrity used: Mark Wahlberg
Appearance:
Derek is basically your average pretty boy. Although short, his body makes up in return. Years of reckless hockey and limitless wrestling brought him to be toned and bulked. He'd only 5 foot ten, but don't let that fool you. Don't let his big hazel eyes sway you, either.
While he is still at a young age, pouting has the best of Derek. Tough 'wrinkles', although he hates that tern, reside on his forehead. He is usually seen with a scruff around his chin; either too lazy of going for the "rugged" look. His hair is a never ending mess; always scraggly and messy.
Personality:
sudden ass hole» Yeah, you could describe Derek as an ass. He doesn't care how other people feel, unless they are very close to him. He does, however, bother with what other people think of him. He pretends not to, but really, he does. He won't change drastically for anyone, but he will change bits and pieces. He lives to prove his manhood. You earn it, he thinks. Men don't cry, they don't screw around, and they certainly don't give in.
don't touch my ass, jerk off Derek has a...way, dare we say, with the ladies. To him, they are like play toys. They sit there and wait until you feel like picking them up, and when you put them down, they are expected to not whine or beg or plead. A one night stand is actually Derek's idea of a good time. He doesn't care if girls cheat; he most likely wasn't in a relationship with them in the first place. The relationships he has been in where all failures, on his part alone. Derek does have his times where he will spoil a girl rotten with all the money he doesn't have, just to get her in bed.
you see me from the outside looking in When you first meet Derek, he is anything but predictable. He can be loud, obnoxious, or quiet and sweet. He usually flirts with women at first glance, and with guys, is buddy buddy. But when he starts to know you better, he can be a real ass hole. He jokes around with his friends a lot, and sometimes, they don't even know it. Derek will say things he think are funny, but others don't. He just won't know.
you're a secret agent, man Being an undercover cop has its pros. Derek takes his work very seriously. He has an arrogant and interesting way of doing his job, which often pisses off his boss. He got in this business for one reason and one reason only: helping. He doesn't want kids to grow up the way he had to. He doesn't want them living on the streets in the midst of gangs, drugs, and violence.
Likes:
«Women
«Hockey
«His job
«His brother
«The city. Any city
«Guns
«Fighting
Dislikes:
«Gangs
«Smart asses
«People who don't know when to start talking
«False confessions
«Relationships
«High Tech stuff
«Wide open space
«Silence
Is the past behind you, or is your mind still dwelling?
Family:
mother; Rose Metre -- Deceased
father; Unknown
siblings; Jack Metre -- 18, currently residing with
History:
It's dark when there is no one around you. It's dark when there is no where to hide. It's dark when they're trying to find you. It's dark when they know that you lied.
These four sentences. They took Derek's life and put the pieces together. Born in a hospital to parents who either didn't care or couldn't care, Derek was left with this piece of history. Maybe his father gave it to him so Derek wouldn't grown up a pussy. Maybe it had some sort of significant reason to its existence. But Derek? Derek would never know. And Derek? Derek would never care. He liked it. It was his "code of conduct", his way of life. It was one of those things that couldn't be bothered.
The necklaced dangled from the young man's neck, peeking out of his gray cotton shirt. In his hand, he held the most important papers of his life. His birth papers and his adoption papers where within his reach. They were in his reach. But Derek refused to look. He didn't care about them. He didn't care who they were. Being put through foster care could be looked at as a great experience, or a horrible one. It made Derek tough. It made him strong. His "dads" taught him the way to live, and how it should be lived. And his "mothers" had no idea. His "brothers" blamed everything on him. His "sisters" thought he was an animal. But not any more. Derek was the boy who would have made his Daddy proud, if he'd ever had one, of course.
Walking silently through the hallways, Derek's grip tightened. The papers folded and wrinkled, but Derek didn't give two shits. Finally reaching his room, he slammed the papers on the dresser, and got on his knees. He pulled the large wooden box out from under his bed. Opened the small gold clasp, Derek fought back tears. What the Hell? He couldn't cry. Men don't cry. The box was filled with stray photos and papers; movie tickets and candy wrappers. He tore everything out of its place, in search for one thing: the folder. The folder was sacred. It held his brother's adoption papers and birth certificate as well. Their mother gave it to them before she died. But Derek's brother didn't know. Derek didn't want Jack leaving him to go off and find the people who didn't care.
He shoved the papers in the folder, sniffling once more. Before the memories could flood back, Derek slammed the box shut. He took a deep breath and slid it back in its place, not to be seen again any time soon. That was it. Derek didn't care. He didn't have to care. He could take care of himself. He learned the hard way, but he was thankful. He made him mistakes, and he fixed them all. The drinking, the drugs, the gangs. He fixed every situation, then and now. His alcohol problem was gone in a year. His cocaine obsession took three or four. But the gangs he would never escape. The gangs wanted him, in good ways in bad.
But he would fix that. He had to.
