User Profile

+ + SCHULDIG + + CODE NAME: MASTERMIND + +

Schuldig got used to getting everything he wanted by his looks and purely opportunistic nature, the fact he's always known what people around him think and feel helped along. However, his childhood wasn't a painless experience, homeless, rootless and orphan by the lack of better definition, his first memories are from the streets of Berlin, making his living by stealing and serving to any need a person with a money would possess.

His personality took the lovely shape of a shameless bastard when he was discovered by an organization called 'Rosenkreuz' in his early teens. He was taken from the streets to be trained to use his PSI talent and of course to serve as the agents of Rosenkreuz saw fit. His psychic cage, created perhaps by his own mind to protect him early in his life, was opened to accept wider range of the mental broadcast around him and he was taught how to create mental barriers to protect himself. The first time in his life he knew how silence sounded like and it scared him shitless.

He was included into an assassin group called Schwarz some years later and in a twisted sense, the three other assassins were the family he never had from there on. Crawford promised him freedom from the mental rapes and general bloodsucking of Rosenkreuz and Schuldig could have kissed the man's ass for that. However laid back and reckless he is by nature, he's a team worker. Perhaps mostly because he can't handle responsibility, perhaps because he fears the silence behind his mental shields when he's not surrounded by people he can even marginally trust. Whatever the reason, he's never betrayed Crawford.

He knew it was coming, long before, he could hear it in the bodiless screams within him, the earth shifting, something beginning. In few days, he created a dozen knew neurotic habits from biting his knuckles to chewing his hair as well as shooting people when they would ask him the wrong questions. His private mission in Rome had been half finished, forbidden to contact his teammates he had just the previous morning concreted a conclusion that he would call Crawford later on the evening despite the command of total 'radio silence'. By noon, he was screaming in his hotel room where he had been dragged from the lobby where he had been causing a scene. Without the calming presence of his team leader, the anticipatory chaos and wild beating of stranger hearts within him made him reach for his gun to end it all but before he could shoot his brains on the white bedcovers, he was pulled through liquid fire and endless throbbing, perhaps the rabid, off beat rhythm of his own heart.

He woke up in China, from a dirty bed of an aged chinadoll. He couldn't understand a single word of her speak and the shattering headache that made him throw up again and again after waking up made it practically impossible to read her mind. Deciding from the signs around her tiny apartment he had been there for few days, his left arm bandaged with something that had seen better days and was hardly white anymore, a black eye patch over his right eye, the red and swollen eye underneath sore and sensitive for light.

After drugging himself with a bottle of something strong, a brief conversing with the network through a computer he found from the apartment opposite the old lady's, he booked a flight to the States. A hurried message on certain forums as the only signal he was using as a homing beacon, he crossed the ocean with the only flight he could fit himself into on his wild search for his teammates.

Alone in Mexico, he found himself a little lost. No airplanes to continue his trip with, the beginnings of chaos on the air already. News screaming the death of some woman, the plague has begun. He can't breath without reading minds all around him, when trying to rouse his shields he lapses into darkness of throbbing pain.

He manages, with his enhanced speed to steal a gun from a gas station, where he has no idea how he ended up, and to threaten a woman in her mid thirties to drive the car into what seems like an endless road in the middle burning sea of hot sand and tireless sun pouring onto them.

She starts coughing after two days and dies later, Schuldig can't recall how many days later. The next morning, he's a little startled to find himself alone in the car and remembers after noon shooting her in the head against the setting sun. Whether this is a work of his imagination, an echoing memory from years before or a real flashback, he doesn't know.

Now he has a car, a gun and he's just arrived to a city he's not sure where.

Appearance at the moment: Ragged red hair flaming down his back, a black eye patch over his right eye and dirty bandages around his left arm. He's dressed in fainted, tattered jeans and a black, Chinese styled shirt with a red dragon pattern in the back, slippers a size too small on his feet and a yellow bandana keeping his hair back. He's 178 cm tall, skinny and pale skinned.

He's lost most of his telepathic ability due to the fact that he has horrible headaches every time he tries to control his talent, it might be only due to his exhausted state of both body and mind or it might be something else. However, he can't contact his teammates, and it's making him exceedingly anxious. The screams within his mind have calmed down too much, and yet in the silence, he can hear the occasional thoughts too clearly, too vividly.