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[dynamic_exit]

✖ PLAYER:
Name & DW Journal: Kris @ escapistism
Birthdate & Age: 2/9/84 -- 28
Characters played in Zodion: N/A

✖ CHARACTER:
Name: Neil Dylandy (codename: Lockon Stratos)
Canon: Gundam 00
PB/Image: Full body shot. With the eyepatch.
Info links: Canon || Character
Canon Point: Episode 23
Gender & Sex: Male
Age: 25
Birthdate/Sign: Canonly March 3, 2283 / Pisces
Tattoo: Side left hip, approximately the size of an orange.
Suitability: N/A
Power: He is a baseline human, so the only 'power' he has is the power of really good aim (and even that's been compromised by his recent loss of an eye.) For his Zodion power I would like to request Water: Manipulation

Personality:
Most people, when they meet Lockon Stratos, see a genial and laid-back kind of guy. He cares about those he works with, often asking about their welfare or watching their backs. As a result, he has set himself up as a bit of a team leader and big brother figure within his group.

This is particularly evident in his interactions with his younger teammates, such as Setsuna F. Seiei. When Setsuna first joins the group there are doubts that such a young pilot can do the job, but Lockon accepts that Setsuna has the resolve to fight and takes him under his wing. The younger Meister is reckless, often acting out on his instincts rather than orders, and Lockon is usually the one to keep him in check, be it through a stern talking to or a solid punch to the face.

Such harsh displays of tough love aren’t a frequent occurrence, however. In truth, Lockon isn’t really one to judge people on their shortcomings. There is more than one instance where a teammate has made an error or shown a lapse in judgement and Lockon waves it off as something that simply comes with being human. Everyone makes mistakes and he is not only cognizant of that, but willing to point it out.

As a sniper, Lockon has become very good at observing things and zeroing in on small details; perhaps that’s part of the reason why he’s rather perceptive. He has a tendency to read what his companions are feeling beneath the surface of their actions, whether it is Sumeragi’s ability to come off as flippant when she is acting tough or Tieria Erde’s propensity to project his anger at himself onto others.

This perception naturally segues into being mindful of the feelings of those around him. This is shown when he catches Feldt Grace crying over the anniversary of her parents' death. He comforts the girl and, despite being a very private person, imparts some of his personal history so that she won’t feel so alone. In essence, uplifting a teammate becomes more important than his own personal comfort.

That’s another thing about Lockon: he tends to put others first. This is never more evident than when, in the midst of a battle, Tieria Erde becomes completely unresponsive. Once he realizes that the other Meister won’t be getting out of the way of a potentially fatal attack, Lockon flings his own Gundam in front of him as a shield. The maneuver costs Lockon the use of his aiming eye, but even then he never holds it against Tieria. Instead, he offers encouragement when it becomes clear that his companion is feeling lost and wracked with guilt.

If all of this sounds just a little too good to be true… well, that’s because it is. No one joins a private paramilitary group based on the destruction of war through rather violent means without a reason, and Lockon Stratos has his share of demons. When he was young his parents and younger sister were taken from him in a terrorist bombing, and he has never once been able to forget that day. The inability to do anything to protect those he loved carved a deep scar into his soul, leaving anger and resentment for a world where such atrocities could happen.

And so he fought: first as Neil Dylandy, sniper for hire, and then as Lockon Stratos, Celestial Being’s Gundam Meister, all of his drive, all of his competence was channeled into seeing the world change. He’s fully aware of the contradiction in his actions and how the deaths he has caused aren’t so different from the deaths of those dear to him. However, he believes the world has to be changed from its very foundations, which means that drastic measures need to be taken. If he has to be the one to take steps to do so, he‘ll gladly take on the task without wavering or regret and accept the punishment once all is said and done.

Punishment comes in the form of the man who ordered the bombing that shook Lockon’s world. The Irish temper that flares at the mention of terrorist attacks and innocent victims reaches a fever pitch when Lockon learns that Ali al-Saachez is near and the usually collected Meister throws all caution and reason to the wind in pursuit of the vengeance he has been seeking for more than a decade.

In his last moments Lockon reflects that for all that he wants things to change, he has never once managed to change himself. Even though he had hoped to establish a future in which his last living relative, his twin brother Lyle, can live in peace, he has been stuck in a past that can never be altered, never be brought back. He has let his own bitterness become a prison. Still, there are those who aren’t as hopeless as him. Setsuna, while an absolute knucklehead, possesses more gumption than anyone Lockon's known. The younger Meister's greatest goal is to 'become Gundam': an embodiment of the eradication of war and a force to establish a better future. Lockon's last bit of faith ends up resting on him, and all the others in the crew who remain. He hopes that they won't be a failure like him--that they can change when he couldn’t.

✖ SAMPLES:
"Zodion" First-Person Network Entry:

[ The shot opens to a rather shaky view of someone's feet. Something is fumbling awkwardly with the communicator, dropping it then barely managing to pick it up before the cycle repeats. In the background the voice of a man with a slight Irish brogue can be heard. He doesn't seem to be aware that he's being recorded. ]

-matter of getting my bearings, I guess, though it would be nice if I had a map.

[ There's a pause in the speech and the feet shuffle around. ]

Haro! What are you--

[ The speaker crouches down, yielding the view of a man in an eyepatch that looks decidedly worse for wear, if his battered and torn flight suit is anything to go by. It isn't until he snatches the communicator up that he realizes the thing is on. ]

...Already recording, huh?

[ There's a wry chuckle as he takes a moment to rake his unruly brown bangs back. ]

In that case, I'll ask if you fine folks could tell me where I could either find a map or the nearest clinic.

-----
[ after a moment a text communication set to Celestial Being's encryption standards is added ]

Can't hurt to try this, either. If any of you are out there, this is Lockon Stratos checking in.


"Zodionlogs" Third-Person Prose Entry:
It had been a nearly zen experience watching the flames rush towards him. Due to the internal injuries he had sustained, he knew that he wouldn't make it out of this alive, and he had accepted as much. The explosion just made the inevitable come all the quicker. There was a moment of intense white heat, excruciating and all consuming, and then the black peace of oblivion.

A split second later, oblivion decided it didn't really care to stick around. Completely disoriented, Lockon found himself staggering forward on legs that were all the more unsure for not having existed a moment ago. His arms shot outward to brace against the fall as he landed crouching position. The jarring impact only highlighted the ache in every joint and sinew in his body, but it was different than before. Before he had felt the sharp pangs of fresh injuries—now the pain was dulled as if given some time to heal. Still, his breathing was heavy and ragged as he took a moment to regain his equilibrium.

Once he had a moment to readjust to the state of simply being, Lockon took stock of his surroundings and let out a low whistle. It looked like he had been dropped into the middle of a neo-classical painting: all majestic stone pillars covered in moss before the backdrop of a soft, pastel sky adorned with whispy clouds. It was completely foreign, but he had to admit it sure as hell beat drifting in the dark, lonely void of space.

"Is this... the afterlife?" he muttered to no one in particular. If so, it was hardly what he expected--the laundry list of transgressions he'd amassed seemed more than reason for him to end up somewhere a little warmer and a lot less pleasant. Maybe he’d landed in Purgatory? Who knew; it had been more than a decade since he’d bothered with mass, so he wasn’t exactly clear on the particulars. Lockon felt his bones creak as he pushed himself to his feet. While he was surprisingly whole, fatigue permeated his entire being and he felt like he was moving in slow motion.

Then he caught sight of it: a big hunk of ancient stone bearing a box that pulsed with a faint light that seemed to consume the whole of his attention. It was like something out of an adventure movie... one where the hapless treasure hunter would be beset by boobie traps right about now. A quick glance around didn't reveal any trace of ambushes or trip wires, and pained chuckle escaped him as he scolded himself for the moment of silly paranoia.

Still, Lockon still tread carefully as he approached; and he couldn't do anything but approach. The combination of curiosity and the box’s inherent allure were too much to resist, though his attention was torn from it the moment he crossed the thin, pristine stream.

“Ahh!” What started as a hiss of pain prompted by the stinging in his hip morphed into an exclamation of shock as he was surrounded by a dome of water. Even though his reflexes were sluggish, Lockon clenched his fists and spun around, ready to face the cause of this and discern if it was a threat… but all he saw was himself.

It was a surreal experience, watching the rippling surface of the water ebb and flow while multiple angles of his own visage, stripped of even the patch covering his eye, stared back. If it wasn’t for the constant undercurrent of soreness, he might think this was a dream… and then he caught an anomaly. On his left hip, in the spot where he’d felt the sting, was a mark. It was a simple thing, only three lines, and rendered in the sort of blue often associated with sailor’s tattoos

“Pretty sure I don’t remember getting that.” Lockon’s gaze narrowed in a frown of scrutiny. The moment of the sting was obviously the moment he had received this… but what did it mean? Was it a mark of this place? If so, it made him feel as if he had just been branded. He didn’t particularly care for that.

As suddenly as it had formed the mirror fell, leaving him fully clothed and free to investigate his box. He did so carefully as the impromptu materialization of the dome brought him back his earlier thoughts on traps, but there was no harm to be found. There was, however, what looked like an older model phone and a very confusing note.

“Fate of the cosmos? Worship? This is getting weirder and weirder…” The letter answered some questions, such as why the little tattoo he’d sustained looked so familiar, but it only raised a dozen more. Lockon sighed, and as he unzipped the top of his flight suit to tuck the note away he heard a very familiar mechanical voice.

“Lockon! Lockon!”

His visible eye widened in shock as a little orange sphere rolled out from behind the altar and began frenetically flapping at him. “Haro? What are you doing here?”

“Followed! Followed! Keep promise! Keep Promise!”

A tired smile stretched across Lockon’s face as he bent down to gather the little bot in his arms. “You mean the promise that I’d come back alive?” It wasn’t a promise that he really expected to keep, but the more he saw, the more that seemed to be the case. The Haro’s plastisteel chassis was firm and solid beneath his fingers, as technical and far from the metaphysical as you could get and completely out of place in the setting. Somehow, it was that fact that drove home the idea that this may not be the afterlife, but some sort of strange, new reality.

“Guess I may be keeping that promise after all…”