Post by Doug Whittemore on Apr 13, 2012 16:38:52 GMT -5
CONFIDENTIAL
FILE OF:
WHITTEMORE, DOUGLAS
FILE OF:
WHITTEMORE, DOUGLAS
BASIC DETAILS:
PERSONAL INFORMATION:
FULL NAME: Douglas Arthur Whittemore
GENDER: Male
AGE: 22
D.O.B.: February 22
PHYSICAL PROFILE:
HEIGHT: 5’9”
WEIGHT: 147 lbs.
HAIR COLOR: Black
EYE COLOR: Blue
DISTINCTIVE FEATURES: Bushy hair
PSYCH. EVALUATION:
LIKES:
- Speculative fiction (fantasy, sci-fi, and horror)
- Doing good, doing “the right thing”
- His viola
- His neice Maddie
- His middle name
DISLIKES:
- Cowards
- People who don’t take him seriously
- Fast food places (specifically, being in them)
- Being called Douglas
FEARS:
- Losing more of his family to the Yeerks
- Not living up to expectations — those of others, or his own
- Being unable to do anything to help
PERSONALITY:
People have always told Doug he has his head in the clouds; he’s an idealist, and often has unrealistic expectations of people. His childhood heroes are his heroes still to this day: The Pevensies, Harry Potter, Charles Wallace Murry, Peter Pan, and King Arthur, and Reepicheep, and on and on and on. So, when it comes to morals, he can be rather hard on those who don’t live up to what he thinks is Right and Good. (Himself included.) He believes in chivalry and self-sacrifice and Good triumphing over Evil no matter what.
Of course, he isn’t all serious all of the time. He likes Disney movies and cartoons and music and comic books and so on, but he does tend to take some things, including himself, a little too seriously. His ideas of self-worth are largely based on doing good for others and giving of yourself, which combined with his thin-skinned self-esteem is not a great combination. He wants very much to make an impact on the world, and only really knows how to do that with grand gestures and doing Really Important Things like ending cancer or stopping the Yeerks.
BACKGROUND:
HOMETOWN: Boston, Massachusetts; currently resides in Olympia, Washington
HISTORY:
Doug has been, basically his whole life, a nerd. Geek. Dork. And so on. Always a little on the skinny side, dragons and spaceships appealed to him more than football or airplanes or any of the things “normal” little boys usually like. By the time he was 8 years old, if you couldn’t find him outside “sword-fighting” with his friends, he was usually watching something on the Discovery Channel or reading a book.
Aside from his bookish, daydreamer disposition, he had a reasonably normal childhood. He was the youngest of three, with an eldest sister and an elder brother. He had friends and went to school, though to a private school instead of a public one. Being the youngest, he was somewhat babied and pampered, but also pushed to excel in everything. By the time he turned 10, he started playing the viola (at his mother’s insistence) and when he started middle school, he was made to start taking drama and do some amateur plays. (“It’ll look great on your college application!” was the motto of his childhood.) He tried soccer for a year, too, but wasn’t that interested so he was allowed to drop it as long as he kept up the other activities.
As he moved into high school, he was required to take up more extracurriculars, including volunteering for various organizations, and he began taking AP classes in a number of subjects. However, it was during his high school years that the Yeerk invasion came to the attention of the world, and with it, some shocking news for the Whittemore family. Doug’s eldest sister Phoebe had moved to California to attend college, and subsequently been infested during the invasion.
Fortunately, it turned out she had been infested towards the end of the invasion, not long before the war came to an end. Phoebe was freed, and she seemed to recover from the trauma admirably, and her family and friends were all very supportive and caring. Though a little more reserved than she had previously been, she seemed almost normal. She did go see a therapist monthly, just in case, but by all accounts most would have said she made a full recovery.
Meanwhile, the Whittemore parents encouraged Doug to study even harder; it was more important than ever for him to secure his place in an uncertain world, etc etc. The same spiel they had always fed him, really, but Doug studied and worked hard, managing to graduate among the top of his class. (He was just shy of being salutatorian, much to his parents’ dismay.)
Despite the proliferation of colleges in and around Boston, Doug applied to a large number of schools elsewhere too, and ended up attending Evergreen College in Washington.
Late in 2007, in Doug’s first year of college, he received a call from his family that Phoebe had committed suicide. Though there was no note, Doug is convinced there was lasting mental damage from her time as a Controller that drove her to take her life.
The combination of his sister’s suicide and the second invasion caused him to lose some focus on school, but he did manage to graduate in spring 2011. He has stayed in Washington only because of the Yeerk situation on both coasts; his parents do not want him moving back while the east coast is still a dangerous place to be, and in any case, Doug has his own plans. He’s aware of the new group of Animorphs and the fact that they are from Seattle, so close to where he lives. He has begun to actively seek them out in the hope of joining them.
OTHER NOTES:
PLAY-BY: Ben Whishaw
STARTING MORPHS:
- Air: Black Merlin (Falco columbarius suckleyi)
- Battle: Bull Elk
- Bug: Silverfish
- Land: Mouse
- Water: Harbor Seal
Osgil shifted in the passenger seat of Karvod’s van. The vehicle was rather old and non-descript. Something seemed to be perpetually digging into his back. He glanced over at Karvod in the driver’s seat. His fellow Yeerk had slowed the vehicle to a stop along the side of the road. They were in an area of town that some would describe, in the colorful language of humans, as the “wrong side of the tracks”. Liquor stores weren’t an uncommon sight.
Osgil glanced up and down the road, trying to determine the reason for the stop. Meanwhile, Karvod pulled out some kind of snack-cake from--well, Osgil neither saw nor cared where. The driver chewed on it and stared out in silence.
Finally finishing the snack cake, Karvod simply said “Ok, I’m good.”
“Oh?” Osgil wondered how the other Yeerk intended to tackle this.
“Yep. Same old stuff, really. This is getting dull. Yscaff probably won’t have much to do. Voress and I should be able to take care of this, but can’t hurt to bring him along too.” Karvod gestured with the empty snack cake wrapper still in hand to an electrical transformer surrounded by a chain-link fence. Osgil squinted and noticed a figure huddled nearby.
“Ah, going for the homeless tonight then?” Karvod had been running this operation for about six weeks now, ranging two or three hours outside of the city sometimes. They’d run enough operations that they were starting to get some attention from the humans now. Rumors of midnight kidnappings in parking lots, from people’s homes. Reminders about not pulling over for anything at night, not even crashed cars on the side of the road. People were scared.
It was good to finally have the chance to see it up close, despite the risk. Not so much physical risk; Osgil would be remaining behind as their getaway driver. Much to his amusement. The real danger was in being identified as a Controller. He still managed to pass among the humans, for when more subtle tactics were necessary. But this plan was his, and just once he wanted to be there.
“I know it’s getting a little stale, but we’re making progress. I don’t think it will take much longer for us to wrap this all up.” He continued.
Karvod nodded but said nothing. He waved to Yscaff and Voress, waiting in the back of the van. All were dressed in black, and could easily be mistaken for burglars. The three exited, and quickly snuck to where the homeless person was sleeping.
It was hard to make out from this distance, but frankly there wasn’t much to watch. There wasn’t even a struggle; Karvod stunned the vagrant with a Dracon beam while the others crouched in wait. It looked like Yscaff was keeping a lookout, and holding onto the entire reason for their mission: Essorod.
Osgil began to grow bored as he waited, and mentally poked at Charles. The old man tended towards silence of late. Well, as silent as one can be when you have a mind-reading alien in your head. He thought, but he rarely engaged Osgil in direct conversation. After a few minutes of prodding, it became clear that Charles was going to be just as obstinate as ever.
Eventually they returned; two larger figures carrying the vagrant between them, with the scrawniest of the three Controllers following behind. The vagrant was an underfed young woman with some sores on her face, and frankly she smelled about like he’d expected. But this was Essorod’s first permanent host; he expected the Yeerk would be grateful all the same. For Osgil it was still a touch disappointing, but maybe she could be cleaned up and put to some good. Even Charles had to hope the girl would prove useful, for her own sake.
«No luck tonight, hmm? Not exactly what I’d call a victory.»
«No, but we’ll get what we want.» The Yeerk replied in some surprise to his host. It took him a moment to fully regain his composure. «Patience is a luxury I can afford.»
«For how long?»
Osgil wished he could find a proper reply. Failing that, he took a page from his host’s book and lapsed into mental silence while he waited for the others to pile into the van.
Osgil glanced up and down the road, trying to determine the reason for the stop. Meanwhile, Karvod pulled out some kind of snack-cake from--well, Osgil neither saw nor cared where. The driver chewed on it and stared out in silence.
Finally finishing the snack cake, Karvod simply said “Ok, I’m good.”
“Oh?” Osgil wondered how the other Yeerk intended to tackle this.
“Yep. Same old stuff, really. This is getting dull. Yscaff probably won’t have much to do. Voress and I should be able to take care of this, but can’t hurt to bring him along too.” Karvod gestured with the empty snack cake wrapper still in hand to an electrical transformer surrounded by a chain-link fence. Osgil squinted and noticed a figure huddled nearby.
“Ah, going for the homeless tonight then?” Karvod had been running this operation for about six weeks now, ranging two or three hours outside of the city sometimes. They’d run enough operations that they were starting to get some attention from the humans now. Rumors of midnight kidnappings in parking lots, from people’s homes. Reminders about not pulling over for anything at night, not even crashed cars on the side of the road. People were scared.
It was good to finally have the chance to see it up close, despite the risk. Not so much physical risk; Osgil would be remaining behind as their getaway driver. Much to his amusement. The real danger was in being identified as a Controller. He still managed to pass among the humans, for when more subtle tactics were necessary. But this plan was his, and just once he wanted to be there.
“I know it’s getting a little stale, but we’re making progress. I don’t think it will take much longer for us to wrap this all up.” He continued.
Karvod nodded but said nothing. He waved to Yscaff and Voress, waiting in the back of the van. All were dressed in black, and could easily be mistaken for burglars. The three exited, and quickly snuck to where the homeless person was sleeping.
It was hard to make out from this distance, but frankly there wasn’t much to watch. There wasn’t even a struggle; Karvod stunned the vagrant with a Dracon beam while the others crouched in wait. It looked like Yscaff was keeping a lookout, and holding onto the entire reason for their mission: Essorod.
Osgil began to grow bored as he waited, and mentally poked at Charles. The old man tended towards silence of late. Well, as silent as one can be when you have a mind-reading alien in your head. He thought, but he rarely engaged Osgil in direct conversation. After a few minutes of prodding, it became clear that Charles was going to be just as obstinate as ever.
Eventually they returned; two larger figures carrying the vagrant between them, with the scrawniest of the three Controllers following behind. The vagrant was an underfed young woman with some sores on her face, and frankly she smelled about like he’d expected. But this was Essorod’s first permanent host; he expected the Yeerk would be grateful all the same. For Osgil it was still a touch disappointing, but maybe she could be cleaned up and put to some good. Even Charles had to hope the girl would prove useful, for her own sake.
«No luck tonight, hmm? Not exactly what I’d call a victory.»
«No, but we’ll get what we want.» The Yeerk replied in some surprise to his host. It took him a moment to fully regain his composure. «Patience is a luxury I can afford.»
«For how long?»
Osgil wished he could find a proper reply. Failing that, he took a page from his host’s book and lapsed into mental silence while he waited for the others to pile into the van.
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Please do not steal it. I'm fine if you use it, just credit me.