CAPTAIN JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, PEACEKEEPER

✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
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“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

CAPTAIN JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, PEACEKEEPER Nov 4, 2013 6:58:05 GMT -5

Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Nov 4, 2013 6:58:05 GMT -5

Name: JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, JIM KIRK, KIRK, TIBS, THAT'S CAPTAIN TO YOU! BEECH.
Age: TWENTY-NINE
Gender: Male
District/Area: Wanderer
Appearance:

Personality:

At Starfleet Academy, Kirk became the only student to defeat the Kobayashi Maru test, garnering a commendation for original thinking by reprogramming the computer to make the "no-win scenario" winnable. Never taking no for an answer, he's a man that definitely leads with his heart, still this doesn't mean he doesn't have a brain! For example, Spock has never beaten Kirk at a game of chess once in their acquaintance. He's a tactical genius and listens to his gut when he doesn't know what to do. His moral compass is straight as a ruler, yet he still possesses the innate ability to piss most people he talks to off. He's a lady's man through and through, believing in chivalry and the gentleman's code completely. Yet, he does believe that a woman is just as strong as a man, if not more. He was born and raised in the Capitol and follows in his father's prestigious footsteps. Slightly rebellious and bitter however because his father remarried and he has a wicked step-mama.

History:

CAPTAIN OF THE ~~STAR SHIP~~ HOVER CRAFT ENTERPRISE.

Codeword: HAHA AT THOSE OF YOU WHO THOUGHT KIRK WOULDN'T BE KOREAN.
Comments/Other:

IN STAR TREK PLOT.

Last Edit: Nov 7, 2013 6:22:10 GMT -5 by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

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✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
Graphics

5,831 POSTS
Pronouns: they/them
last seen Apr 25, 2024 0:02:39 GMT -5

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck

CAPTAIN JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, PEACEKEEPER Nov 5, 2013 18:43:27 GMT -5

Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Nov 5, 2013 18:43:27 GMT -5

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[atrb=style, word-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; opacity: 0.6; padding: 35px 10px 0px 10px; border-radius: 5px;][06/09/65]Captain's Log: Routine sweep over District Eleven. All was quiet, picked up no sightings of illegal activity, radar found that all citizens were in their house, most in a state of sleep. Thinking of giving Eleven the all clear tomorrow if we still see nothing. Will keep you posted, Kirk out.
[07/09/65]Captain's Log: The people seem relatively happy, no sign of uprising. Some could be said to be in a state of oblivious bliss. One young man might have just spent thirteen hours in a field full of root vegetables. I recommend giving this young man a commendation for his remarkable care of potatoes.
[25/09/65]Captain's Log: Computer, do I look too good?
[04/10/65]Captain's Log: Scotty has a dumb shaped head, pass it on~
[05/10/65]Captain's Log: Apparently I'm supposed to stop using this log for personal things and silliness but the thing is, those last two things were rather important for future generations to read. How on Earth are people meant to pass on the message that Scotty has a funny shaped head if no one can hear it? Amateurs. I am dealing with a bunch of amateurs.
[07/10/65]Captain's Log: I keep getting blamed for the computer whistling every time I enter a room. I did not do this, people who have said that I have done this are spreading lies against my good character. Slander, I tell you.
[09/10/56]Captain's Log: Whilst traversing open woodland today, our radar picked up a couple of wanderers making a run for it. Not sure where to, in these empty woods. We are far from any District, having just left District Four. I felt it best not to pick them up, but to observe them and see if they have a group that they were running to. My hope is to flush out a larger group and take them all in for avoxing. If we are careful, we could solve the Avox shortage.
[09/10/65]Captain's Log: Success was ours. There was some sort of Gypsy, Wanderer camp in the base of a hill, a place hard for our radars to pick up. We would never have found the cave if it weren't for the two scouts dispatched to trail the running Wanderers. We are headed back to Headquarters with a group of fifteen to be registered and Avoxed.
[12/10/65]Captain's Log: I feel like I've just made the biggest mistake of my entire life. Have you ever felt this way? You know what you are doing is correct, just, right in every rule book there is, but known deep down that it wasn't? I feel like I cannot face my crew. I've lost my appetite, and I can't stop thinking about the people we have just left in the hands of our friends, to have their tongues taken out and be made into the robotic, empty things we call an Avox. I've seen all this before, of course I have. I've never been so responsible for their fate before. I feel like I just led sheep to slaughter. I have done what I have been told to do, but I feel so wrong. This is how it is, how it's always been and yet I can not seem to stand my place in it. I will not sleep tonight, I will watch the helm for once in the longest time and watch the Earth move below us.

I shut the link down with a snap of my fingers, listening carefully as that aspect of the computer powers down. It's happened before where I've shut it down and the damned thing has continued on. That lead to a very awkward explanation as to what Scotty had the pleasure of listening to when going over the ship records. Leaning back in the captain's chair, I press my knuckles to my forehead, kneading it, thinking. We dropped the people to be avoxed off yesterday and I have not been able to sleep at all since then. It's as if I'm stuck in time, even though I know they aren't. By now, they'll have lost all hope of seeing the blue sky above and forest around them ever again. By now, their tongues will have been cut out and they'll have been packed onto a train to be brought to market and sold like slabs of meat.

I knew what was going to happen to them the first moment we captured them and took them aboard this ship. Even as the thrill of the hunt was chasing it's way through my veins, I knew in the back of my head that these were people and I was signing their death certificates. I straighten my fingers and drag my open palms down my face, pulling at my tired skin, trying to loosen the tightness of it. My eyes are tired, and I didn't shave this morning. It didn't seem all that important when I had fifteen lives on my conscience. It took everything I had not to just wipe the log of their capture from the computer and drop em off even further into the woods. It was too late at that point. Uruha had already contacted the Detention Center to warn them of our arrival.

Now I've spent the last night, day, and night beating myself up over it. One of them was just fifteen years old, two years younger than Chekov, and the guy's like a brother to me. That was exactly why I wouldn't risk our own arrest by setting those people free. I couldn't jeopardize the lives and careers of my own crew for the lives of the citizens. Spock approved. Of course he did, I took the most logical course of action. Yeah, if Spock approves that usually means I've done the wrong thing. I don't know what the right thing was in this situation. I feel like I'm destined to agonize over this for the next millennium. With a mighty sigh, I fling myself up off of the chair and to the big windows that look out on the world below. Lights twinkle in the distance. We're cruising over Three. There have been reports of gang violence and rebellions. The world sleeps below, I see nothing.

The thing is, Bones also approved, and I don't know what the hell that means. Bones and Spock rarely agree, and usually it's only about the fact that I can be a total dick. So if they agree, it must mean I've done something right. The problem is, it feels so wrong. My fist hits the window with a thud, and I feel the jarring of the bones in my hand all throughout my body. It takes all my willpower not to grab the controls and tun us back to two, to stage a rescue mission and go renegade. I force myself to take a seat in the Captain's chair, to strap on my seat belt to stop from leaping off and running off to talk to Bones and ask if he's really alright with what we just did. I did the right thing. I made the right call. I work for the Capitol. My father would be proud.

I have to repeat this to myself like a mantra until dawn breaks.

[16/10/65]Captain's Log: We have come across a pack of wild mutts in between Seven and Eight. The mutts seem to be some type of hybrid of lion and lizard, which should be cool. We have also received orders to coral these specimens and take them in for dissection and study. Bones says it's just what I need to get out of this funk. I agree. I haven't gone down on a mission for a while, usually Spock insists on my staying aboard, out of danger. *You're the captain, you must take responsibility, blah blah blah* Hah. Well screw him, this looks dangerous and fun, just what I need. Besides, I'll have The Old Crone and A Bag of Bones with me, what harm could it really be?

It occurs to me as we rappel down from the ship that it could be a hell of a lot. I haven't had a proper sleep in days, I feel like I've been wrapped in a blanket of fog. I can't stop thinking about those people, I don't think I ever will. Bones has noticed, of course he did, he always does. He keeps doing that Bones thing where he rests a hand on my shoulder and tells me metaphors. "If you're already in a hole, it is no use to continue digging because then you'll just be deeper and you might hit an underground spring and drown." and "You can have the cow or the steak, but you can't have both." I appreciate the sympathy and advice but it's not really helping in this circumstance. I need to somehow make it up to those lives I've ruined but I don't know how. I suppose I can start by making the forests safer for other wanderers by way of mutt killing.

The Old Crone is adamant that we only stun them if anything. I don't understand what the point of that is, when we're shipping them off for dissection anyway. I decide to humor her, I'm too tired to argue, and lazily I flip my gun up, showing her the setting. When she's slightly satisfied, we set off. She's running around like some wild thing between the trees and I have Bones grumbling along beside me. As for me, I'm keeping low to the ground, the Mutts should be somewhere just to the left if the ship computers are correct. Chekov is chattering in my ear telling me, "On Your leeft! Leeft! Twelve o'clock, Keptin!" I spin, letting out a blast of electricity as I do so. The shock catches the mutt on the shoulder and it slumps down to the ground. I smile, tag it in the ear for pick-up, and head off again.

The next one I'm not so lucky.

[16/10/65]Captain's Log: UGH. I am currently out of commission due to a large scratch made by poisonous lion lizard mutt down my side. Bones insists on making sure all the poison is out before he operates on the scar to knot it up properly. The Bag of Bones holds the old ways of medicine too sacred. If we were in the Capitol, I would have been in and out of sick bay in no time. Don't fall asleep Kirk, I don't know what affect this poison will have. Yeah whatever Bones. He keeps pumping me full of pain meds and I feel all floaty and tired, more so than even before. I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Kirk, you awake? . . . . . . . . . I said no sleeping, idiot, this is life or death, dammit.. . . . . . . . . . . . Your vitals seem alright.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dammit Kirk, you left the Log on again. . . . . . . . . *snap*

[20/10/65]Captain's Log: I ended up sleeping for three days, which was probably more what I needed than chasing after mutts in the woods, but as Bones has said, I probably needed the mutt to take me down so I would rest. When I woke up, the scar down my perfectly chiseled body was more a dark pink line than a gaping wound, which is good for me I guess. Bones won't stop shoving instruments in my face to see if I'll drop dead or not. He says I needed rest so I high tailed it to my room, got properly dressed into a fresh uniform and went back to the bridge. Chekov had been so happy to see me up and about that he wasn't able to get one word out that was understandable. I had been ready to throw his career and life away just the other day. I'm glad I did not.

[25/10/65]Captain's Log: Okay, I understand the monthly check-ups and all, but I don't see why we have to fill in forms that detail our exact appearance each time. I mean, I know as Capitolites, we don't often have the same appearance. Heck, every time there's a shore leave we get people going off for a break and then strangers with the same name walking on. Me? I'm a natural beauty sort of guy. I don't know why I'd change any of this, I'm absolutely stunning as I am. Spock, our resident robot, of course woke up early to complete his. I have been holding out till the last minute, busying myself in jobs all over the ship in my effort to avoid The Bag of Bones and The Walking, Talking Cyber man. However, I am finally caught, and must submit to my captor's requests or face dire consequences.

R a n k :
Captain
N a m e ( s ) :
James Tiberius Kirk, Tibs, Jim, Kirk, KEPTIN
A g e :
twenty-nine going on twenty-nine.
G e n d e r :
Male
S e x u a l i t y :
If it moves and has a face I'll probably do it.
L o c a t i o n :
Somewhere over Panem
J o b :
"Peacekeeper"
H e i g h t :
185 cm
W e i g h t:
Oh my, a lady never shares her weight~ ~~72 kg~~
H a i r C o l o u r :
Black as night.
E y e C o l o u r :
Black as dirt, sometimes they flicker to blue though. Blame my step mother and her inability to take me to a proper modification surgeon.
M e d i c a l H i s t o r y :
How dare you, I am immune to sicknesses of the heart and brain.
F i t n e s s :
As a fiddle. Just ask Privates: Joan, Sloane, Tessa, Robin, Celestia, Maybelline, Susanne, Josh, Tiffany, Rebecca, Charlie, Tris, Alexander, Ellie, shall I go on?

I'm left with my thoughts, presumably to finish the form, but I'm uninterested. If I just don't do it, Bones will grumble a bunch and do it for me. That's the joys of being a Captain, you don't have to do a lot of things that regular folks do. That's my one and only joy, my own laziness. Of course that isn't true. There is something about being Captain that make a ship yours, and The Enterprise? She's my baby, a total babe-magnet. We match each other in that way. For all of my swagger, I'm really a pretty good looking guy.

I don't have any of that desk job paunch, because I haven't filled out one single piece of paper work in a while. My job entails action and I see a lot of it. My tall frame is well toned, filled out rather well, it complements my total look. I'm not afraid to wear a tight shirt, which is good because that's what my uniform is. Mustard yellow and gorgeous, the fabric hugs my chest, Star Fleet's insignia proudly displayed to the left of my heart. My fingers are long and agile, my reflexes wonderful after years of training. I'm in the height of my career at this age, full of youthful energy mixed with the small wisdom of being alive for almost a third of a century.

My black hair curls slightly, licking at the back of my neck in a boyish way, always slightly unruly. It matches my easy grin, and the inherent brightness in my eyes that always seems to be there. There's something about you that makes me want to punch all those twinkling lights out, but I can't because it'd be like kicking a puppy. Bones said that to me within a week of knowing me, and every time he grits his teeth I think I can almost see his fist clenching. True, I can be an annoying little shit, but I'm smart too. I know when the hell to shut up, sort of. So my nose hasn't actually been broken yet, which is one of the most improbable things Spock says he's ever come across. Scotty says that my gorgeous, square-like jaw ads to my know-it-all-jerk look. I think it makes me look sexy.

Besides, I get my jaw from my father, one of the greatest Peacekeepers in Panem history. He's still got a picture on Star Fleet's walls as a leading force in District Thirteen's destruction all that time ago. Crushing those rebels was one of the most heroic acts he ever performed, according to them. Sometimes they display videos of the smoking ruins at headquarters. Sometimes we fly over where thirteen used to be. It's restricted, but we have to check for rebel activity every so often. The grass has grown to swallow up the bricks that used to be foundations for buildings and flowers grow out of empty windows. When I was younger, I used to think that my dad was the greatest man in the world, there was no one better than him. Kids on my street used to play Rebels and Peacekeepers, and I was always my dad, stomping out the Rebel scum.

I idolized my dad, I did. Right up until he remarried my cankerous hag of a step-mother and told me I had to call her mummy dearest and kiss her cheek in public. Right till then I never had a toe out of line. I brushed my hair to the side and gelled it down like a total asshole and even wore bow ties to school. When my dad remarried, it was a betrayal. I mean, I get it, woman, you know? But my dad married a she-devil. I swear she's with him for his fame and fortune. She pulled an evil step-mom once, making me mop the kitchen floor when she insisted on us owning five avoxes. Dad and I had never had one before her, they gave us both the creeps.

I told her she could shove that idea where the sun doesn't shine and proceeded to throw the sponge in her wrinkly old face that she tried to keep fresh with the latest surgeries. After that I sort of ran away for a week where I got my ear pierced and registered for Star Fleet. I was sixteen years old, but a Kirk. I was shipped off to training pretty quick. That's where I got this body. You don't look like this by just sitting around in front of a computer all day.

I also did a lot of that. They recognized my genius almost instantly, bless them. I was placed in high achievement classes on almost everything. I liked the way things challenged my mind and I only had to clean floors when I was being punished for yet another stupid prank. I ended up graduating from Star Fleet at the age of twenty with high honours. In my final year, just to go out with a bang, I decided to defeat some Wiz Kid's dumb test, The Koboyashi Maru. No one ever beat it. It was programmed o be un-winnable I think. I thought that was stupid, my dad always said that there was no such thing as un-winnable situations. I wasn't going to listen to some program trying to tell me that there was such a thing. So I reprogrammed the thing, by doing exactly opposite of what I was expected to do. Instead of panicking, I refused to be daunted and it probably also helped that I'd broken into the control room and gotten rid of a few pesky shield on the enemy ship.

Anyway, that little number got me suspended a couple of weeks, but I guess they recognized my genius because they cut my suspension to a couple days and I was a private in no time. The rest is history of course, you sort of had to be there really. It's hard to explain the yellow wolf and tomato fiasco, you won't find it funny unless you were there. Hell, Bones was there and he still doesn't think it was absolutely hilarious.

But yeah, that's all just the past. I've been a Captain for a good five months now after carefully working my way up. The Enterprise is my first ship, she's a real beaut too. Gorgeous really. Absolutely stunning. You should hear her take off, she hums along to some silent melody and you can barely feel the ground leaving you.

I always have people asking me what's it like to be the son of a hero. I couldn't tell you, I don't remember. I haven't spoken to my dad since I ran away from home a good thirteen years ago. I'm lucky that I'd know if he was dead or not because the knowledge of it would fly through Star Fleet like wild fire. My dad is a war hero, and I feel like people are always looking at me, judging me by what my father did. I hate that, I'm not my father, I didn't just forget about my mom and run off to marry some other lady. I don't go on about my glory days all the time and never do anything else. I don't want to be like my dad, to just slowly waste into old age and eventually die from going to the pub and the diseases on the nuts that have to be in the bowls on the bar. If I have to die, I want to die when I am in my prime, when I am at my happiest. Aaaaaand this has gotten far more touchy-feely than it's meant to be. Oh well. *snap*

[05/11/65]Captain's Log: Bones and his Medkit sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. *gasp*
[11/11/65]Captain's Log: Pretty sure I saw Chekov practicing pick up lines down 'E' corridor. Bless his little cotton socks.
[13/11/65]Captain's Log: Alright, alright, I'll stop using this thing for personal stuff. Maybe.

*snap*

i feel like
every song that
has to do with
space is his

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F a c e c l a i m : Lee Min Ki
S o n g : Star Trek (Main Theme)
P l o t : Star Trek
C o d e w o r d : ödair

Last Edit: Nov 7, 2013 6:27:29 GMT -5 by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

compendium / avriel
clown car / pietro
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✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Graphics 5,831 POSTS Pronouns: they/them last seen Apr 25, 2024 0:02:39 GMT -5 “And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.” - steinbeck	CAPTAIN JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, PEACEKEEPER Nov 7, 2013 6:22:59 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Nov 7, 2013 6:22:59 GMT -5 It is done. (ﾉ◡‿◡)ﾉ～:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧
	compendium / avriel clown car / pietro 2022 tracker / 2023 tracker / 2024 tracker

cass Retired Staff 4,822 POSTS last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5	CAPTAIN JAMES TIBERIUS KIRK, PEACEKEEPER Nov 7, 2013 6:32:02 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by cass on Nov 7, 2013 6:32:02 GMT -5 Flawless. A wonderful read, interesting till the very end. You've done an amazing job <333 [/size]