LOCKE KIM LEE (Locke Kim Lee-Maxwell)
Nationality: Chinese-American (halfbreed)
Hair color/Eye color: Reddish brown/ amber
Birthday: 22 November
Sign: Sagittarius
Aka: Luo Kim Li (English order)/ Li Luo Kim(Chinese order) [Beautiful golden silk], puppy, Loki, Schuschu
Kritiker codename: TSUZUKI/ SHINIGAMI
Former codename: (Dogstar)-->Lymanth
Main weapon: microfilm wire
Backup weapon: Electric pellets (hidden in secret compartment in left wrist)
Age: 22
Former associations: Twelve Demons, The Dogstar
Kuroneko job: Internet supervisor of ground floor Internet Cafe.
Expressions: "Frick!"
Prefers: Holocaust Missions
Languages spoken: Chinese, English, Japanese, Cebuano -->(hahaha, mas international pa sa pesteng Tagalog! >p)
Likes: adventure, thrill, action, liberal-mindedness
Dislikes: Dragon Dance Drum Beats, Bitter Gourd and Girl Leads
Significant notices: Has three piercings on his right ear: (from hanging lobe upwards: A small silver hoop, an amber stud, and a smaller silver teardrop-shaped stud). Has a tattoo on his mid-back, which reads 'sin' in old Chinese script.
Son of a Triad princess and an American agent. Essentially his mother was the triad princess of one of the most powerful underground Chinese Triad groups, the Twelve Demons. Being the only daughter of a powerful organization, Rang Li was always kept under tight security and strict supervision. One day on a businesstrip with her family to the United States to meet with Mexican smuggler mafia families for negoitiation, the private eye/ journalist Luke Maxwell manages to break into the Triad's security system, and tails them for the next few weeks, not knowing that the sensitive Rang had known he was infiltrating all along but let him alone, amused at the concept of a foreigner actually being able to get between their thick surveillance, and amused at the panicky sense of alertness Luke had with him among people she considered family.
"You don't belong here." Rang stepped from behind the rotating full length mirror, a small smile on her lips.
Blue eyes widened with shock, then humor tried to cover the panic and surprise. "Why pretty, you don't either. C'mere and maybe you and I can figure a way out of here."
Before he could react, he found himself flipped on his back most painfully on the floor, and amber eyes glared at him fiercely. "I'm sorry Mister American but this is my private lounge and I believe you are tresspassing, yes?"
"Wha-whaddya mean..." he managed to croak as a sure hand clamped itself around his throat, sufficiently cutting off air. "Don't tell me... you..."
Rang smiled. "Yes, I'm Wang Li's daughter and you are most unwelcome into my room. I respect your skill Mister American, sneaking in the Twelve Demons' cruise liner and staff house for the past week without a scratch. Most foreign agents who attempt to do that fail miserably. And in case you're wondering, you can too, right now. If you don't say the right things."
Luke was gasping now. "HOw do you..." A chortled breath as the fingers tightened their hold.
Rang's eyes narrowed evilly. "My dearest, in case you're wondering, I can snap your bones like sticks. Just because Wang Li's daughter gets security up to the last strand of hair doesn't mean she can't fend for herself."
Locke has a tendency to look for bloodshed, killing unnecessarily during missions. This trait is forgivable considering that the Twelve Demons family are a bloodthirsty group. He obviously took a bulk of his laid-back personality from his father. He was sent away to his father(at one year old) the moment the Triad was violently broken down(by a joint venture of Interpol--Scotland Yard, FBI, PNBIR, Chinese Red Agency on one all-out skirmish), and lived in the United States for a long time. To ensure that he would be kept safe from all yakuza/mafia/triad mess, his mother had tattooed on him the character 'sin' on his lower back before she sent him away(and before Rang herself died of suicide), the character that only the true line of the Li family could imprint on themselves. [Interesting note: As the Triad was broken down, in another part of the globe the long-hunted for illegal organization Esstet was also trashed.]
The buildings that surrounded the compound burned in the dry summer air, and even without looking outside her window and at the still quiet courtyard outside, Rang knew their time was up. Without looking outside her balcony to the fires that slowly licked the lower hill of their compound, she could hear her friends, the members of the Twelve Demons Triad, fighting and dying with the enemy in the fire below.
She would have loved to go down and be part of the war. And kill those who ruined the perfect kingdom her father and uncles created. Who ruined the future she had for herself and her cousins. Rang looked at the sleeping form by the side of her large bed, swathed in the red and gold silk. /For Luo Kim./
Her fierce amber eyes softened as she bent to pick her son up. He was sleeping very soundly, and no doubt the distant explosions were only throbbing beats in his world of slumber. They were coming, she knew. They would search for every remaining member of the Triad so that the entire root would be cut off permanently, since they knew how virulent and persevering the crime families always were.
/But they will not get you./
She had arranged for him to come. Almost a year since she first saw him in person, and he her. But Rang knew nothing changed. If it had been just a casual fling between a crime kingdom's daughter and a bold journalist, she would have cared less.
Luo shifted. Rang smoothed a thin strand of reddish-brown hair from the kid's face, glinting off the torches like spun fire. It was him, she knew, that kept the bond strong. In his impossible and discreet way of doing things, she knew somehow that Luke had cared for his son even from a distance.
"You seem very calm."
She didn't even flinch when the quiet voice suddenly intruded on her thoughts from behind. She didn't even turn, ignoring the rule never to show your back to an enemy. /Luke is not my enemy./ She closed her eyes, surprising herself at how comfortable she felt hearing it for the first time in months.
"I have to be." For her son. For her family. For Luke.
"A quiet speedboat is down by the canal channels waiting. Nobody's gotten through there yet, and it connects to the main waterway. That's how I got in." Shadows shifted, but Rang did not, and her blurry view of the burning compound was blocked by a sweat-stained polo shirt-clad chest.
"You came." /Even through all the trouble of slipping in here, through the danger of suspicion among your people./
"Of course." She looked up when he tilted her face towards him. He had heard her quiet thought. With gentle hands he held his son, and the sweet swell of fatherly pride inside him could not be stopped.
"He'll have to adapt an English name to avoid suspicion."
"Locke," came the reply. "I've always liked how it sounded." Maxwell couldn't help but notice that in the brief, turbulent moments before destruction, they were a family. He almost laughed at the irony.
He looked at Rang questioningly as he traced over an inkmark on the baby's lower back.
"Our mark," she replied softly. "Even though we will disappear, and possibly never return, the crime families of the world remember and respect each other. He will be safe." From all harm. From himself and his legacy. "Now hurry. They are coming."
The two crept out of the room, fleeting from the shadows of the pillars toward the hidden system that led to the family's waterways. At the glass vault, Luke entered, the baby pressed into his chest. It was a bit steep to descend, so when he had a foot hold, he turned for Rang...
...and came face-to-face with her sad face on the other side of the very tightly bolted fiberglass vault. And he knew. She would stay behind to cover them, she would stay behind for her family and her brothers and her cousins and all she lived for. She was trusting him with their son.
Despite the practical instinct to just go and leave, Luke had to frown to clear his vision of the tears he didn't know were pooling around his turbulent blue eyes.
LOCKE'S TALENTS
Locke can gamble, although he doesn't show it often because he has a tendency to be 'kuripot' (but not like Juta! ^^). Living in America and with his father(who has been around the world) taught him to be liberal-minded and critical of things. He is also a very good hand with the Chinese 'mo-pit' brush, able to depict any scenes with just a brush, paper and ink. Although he doesn't find this talent very extraordinary, the people around him think differently and are constantly awed at his works. (Mark has forced him to do a rare picture of John waiting on cafe tables and has it hanged, wall-scroll-like, in the back of his walk-in closet door.) Locke hates soccer, and soccer players in general. As a boy growing up, he was constantly being traumatized by a neighbor who played on his lawn every morning, and he was hit hard on the head one day he bled. (Luke at first, being dragged out of bed after having 3 hours of sleep, thought the boy was faking because the blood wasn't obvious in his son's rather red hair.)
Luke blinked.
His four-year old son was in front of him, crying as if in terrible, terrible pain. But he could see nothing wrong with the boy; maybe he just stubbed his toe? Or had gotten a little n** while playing with the dog Harold outside?
Well first and foremost, he was a father. Luke sighed and bent down, vision still a little blurry. "Kiddo, it's just a little thing, okay? You're tough, right? C'mon. Show me you're tough little Locke. If that dog bites you again..." He just wanted to get back to sleep. After that gods-awful long interview last night, he didn't care if the boy burned the dog just as long as he had an extension of another hour.
"IT'S KENNETH!!!!" Locke was not just in pain, he was very angry.
Luke was badly startled when the crying boy screamed angrily. He blinked. What had nice, polite Kenneth to do with this? His foggy brain tried to string facts together. Oh yeah. The boy liked playing soccer. O~h.
"Okay, Locke, kiddo, Kenneth didn't mean to hit your sandcastles--"
"HE HIT ME ON THE HEAD!!!!! I'M BLEEDIN'!!!!"
That chased the sleep from his head like a shot of expresso. "He what--!?" He looked at Locke again. But nothing was wrong. "Bleeding? How could you--Oh ******** s**t." He had reached a hand to ruffle the boy's hair when his fingers touched something sticky and wet. And red, almost camouflaged by Locke's hair.
Luke Maxwell integrated the boy to Kritiker at a young age, (9 years) to begin training. (Luke was linked to Kritiker some time back, being an investigative journalist. A few months after Locke was introduced to Kritiker, Luke disappeared, presumably tracked down by embers of the supposedly dead Twelve Demons group who still look upon him as the rapist of Rang.) Locke regareded Luke as his older brother and never once suspected that he was his father, and found an affinity for Chinese things although he immediately did not know why. Immediately he was taken under the wing of a high official in Kritiker who was Luke's old associate.
The first association Kritiker assigned him to was the Dogstar Group, or a satellite of information gathering groups around the world. Locke was codenamed 'LYMANTH' there, and was officially in charge of filtering information given through field agents. It mostly involved inter-country matters, and not quick, on-the spot killing and assassination as with the elite teams. (Elite teams: When they are of limited number, but can perform efficient missions with ease and swiftness, as in Weiß, etc.) A high official in Kritiker(previously an agent himself--you guys figure who it is! ^^) quickly noticed that he was not cut out for that life, and gradually instigated him to solo stealing missions, and eventually to assassination.
"Do you like what you do, Locke?"
Amber eyes flashed impatiently and the 14-year old teenager shook his head, his semi-long hair flying from side to side. "No."
"What do you like to do?"
They were thoughtful. "I want to do something challenging, Cho-sama." (Cho-sama: captain)
A slender eyebrow rose. "Oh? Like what your fa--older brother did?"
"Sort of." They began to glow, the eyes, like some hidden fire. "He told me once that the life he lived was filled with Danger, and it was fun tickling it in the ribs while it was not looking and dance away before it got you. I want... to do that." They were very bright, almost puppy-like, now. "Can I, Cho-sama?"
/Already the blood of his mother is boiling in his veins. Of his father too. That damn Luke.../
"Hmn..." He thought for a moment. Deep inside him he knew the child was not meant for information gathering alone. Deep inside he knew the kid would have to wear his shoes. And he knew, deep inside, that they would be a good, snug fit. "You know, I think it's high time you should leave Dogstar."
Alarm. It could be a euphemism to disposing an agent, as Locke knew very well himself. Before he could respond however: "I'll train you myself, and I'll teach you skills that go far beyond boring information-gathering. And I'll teach you weaponry."
A face. "I don't like guns, Cho-sama. They're not my typ--"
A knowing look. "I know."
"You do?!?!"
"Yep. Because I didn't like them either." He flicked his wrist and a long, thin piece of wire uncoiled from his grasp to fall like some snake made out of moonlight into the boy's curious hand. "Do you know what this is, Locke?"
Mesmerized. At the way the silver thing lazily coiled in his palm. So thin, fragile, unbreakable, dangerous. "A... wire, Cho-sama?"
Glinting green eyes. "Yes boy, a wire. Useless-looking, isn't it?" At a hesitant nod, he continued, "But it's quiet. And believe me, I wouldn't be here today if I did not trust my life with this. You will be good with the wire, boy, and when you are ready, you'll share what you've learned to the dark beasts."
"Dark..." That was the word for targets. He looked up at his Cho-sama, barely daring to hope. "You mean..."
"Yes." He suddenly yanked his hand back and lashed it out at barely the blink of an eye. The wire cut the air beside Locke's head and with a deadly *thwip* zipped back to the hidden compartment in the captain's wrist. A second later Locke could hear an almost noiseless crumbling. He didn't have to turn to know that it was the small marble figure that stood near the doorway, demolished in barely a second and a flick of the wrist, cut and disassembled by a mere piece of string. He would learn //that!?!?!//
The captain laughed at the boy's surprised face. "Exactly. Oh, you will learn, alright." He pat unruly red hair. "You'll learn."
Locke uses a wire. The high official in Kritiker who monitors him (what a dead giveaway) taught him how to use it (because it 'matched his personality'-->unpredictable, flexible) He is jokingly called 'Puppy' and even his teammates have taken to calling him that. Karl calls him 'Schuschu' because of his hair (another gift from his father;see KARL) or sometimes 'Loki'.
Along with Karl, he was one of the first to join the Kuroneko (field agents, although Cherry and Jutatsu were the initial members technically) and he manages the Internet Cafe in the ground level of the shop. Like Cherry and Karl, Locke is also somewhat multi-lingual with a natural affinity to both English and Chinese and Japanese as well. He knows a little conversational German (from Karl) and also knows a little old English (from John)
"YOU AGAIN!"
Steel on steel as his microfilm wire wrapped itself around the silver blade of what looked like a ninjato. Already the action seemed familiar, the resistance. Just as he thought, green eyes (like his Cho-sama's, he noticed) glared at him from under a dark blue hood, and at a swipe of his arm, the other agent pulled his sword free from the constricting wire, which recoiled back to the compartment on his arm. In a way he was relieved that the other one was quick on his nerves to resist his lighting quick attack--much as he didn't care who he killed, he didn't want to get into trouble for killing another Kritiker agent.
"Get out. Of my way." The other agent all but snarled.
Well if Green-Eyes wanted to be a b*****d, he could be equally stubborn too. "No way. I know you work for Kritiker just like I do, so why don't we help each other? Faster that way." Locke gestured at the cross the other agent wore, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. This was the second time his superiors never told him about another bee, that is, another agent, in the target mission site.
"I have a mission to accomplish, and there isn't much time. Stop meddling."
Locke crossed his arms and leaned on the narrow doorway of the cockpit annex as if casually discussing the weather instead of blocking an equally dangerous agent. "Not a chance, man. My mission was to take care of the cockpit's controls and its controllers, so I can't allow you to get into MY mission site."
They blinked. They were still furious, but they blinked. "There is no way they could have assigned you to the cockpit annex," he finally ground out suspiciously. Locke frowned.
"Look, I don't understand it either, all this frick. I knew the overall mission was to destroy the underground mine base, but I don't know why they limited me only to the cockpit unless you--" It was his turn to blink, considering the way the other agent just came from. "You mean you just--"
"I--set the bombs for the main hangars. That was supposed to be my strict area coverage. But I thought how stupid not to take on the cockpit and the surveillance before detonating--" It seemed he understood as well. Kritiker had assigned both agents to the same mission with different simultaneous areas so that each one was covered by the other.
Locke grinned. "Hey hey, seems like I was right after all, about us working for a--"
He didn't finish his sentence because the nearby hangars had exploded into brilliant flashes of white flame, and the next thing he knew a strong hand dumped him into the gushing drainage pipe by the exit to escape the flashing fires.
ON MISSIONS: Locke lives for the thrill of the kill and the high-edge danger of their missions. As opposed to the paradigm of Karl (who only does it persay) and even Mark (for the end result) he doesn't care what happens after--as long as he does NOW with an interesting twist. When he starts getting carried away though, Karl is the only one who can stop him and keep him focused on the mission. ("Verdammen, Tsuzuki, fixieren!." *glare* -->"Idiot, Tsuzuki. Watch it." wink
LOCKE'S CODENAME: Firstly, he was codenamed 'LYMANTH' in Dogstar. 'Lymanth' is a fictionl character who would mingle with humans in the morning and transform into a demon at night. He was killed by a fatal blow to the head delivered by the simple-hearted hero, Aleand. Interestingly 'TSUZUKI' is a legendary Shinigami who is said to control twelve shikigamis at one time (because he is supposed to have demon blood.) This is a parallelism to Locke, who as we know, is a halfbreed, and comes from the Twelve Demons Triad by blood. (Tsuzuki also has a demon side, which loves killing. Locke's 'demon' side, that is, his mother's side, is a parallelism.) Also, Tsuzuki was supposed to be associated with puppies, and it was probably the 'high official's' personal joke to choose the nickname for his ward. 'SHINIGAMI' is a secondary codename used for 'Holocaust Missions' (see KARL) and is, yet again an interesting connection to his first codname. In Japanese text it means 'Deity of Death'.
MORE PICTURE REFERENCES: (WIP)
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