Post by Phantom on Dec 20, 2022 17:58:40 GMT -6
Pierce Michael Gold
Full Name: Pierce Michael Gold
Pronouns: He/Him
Nicknames: N/A
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Room #: -
Birthplace: Princeton, New Jersey
Birthday: February 13th
Orientation: Bisexual
Status: Single
Power: Spatial Manipulation
Play-By: Seonghwa Park
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 162 lbs
Personality:
Pierce is confident, but also incredibly low-key. He is a naturally gentle and considerate person. He likes to think that he thinks about the way his actions will affect others before he takes them. He can be shockingly persuasive when he wants to be, and uses his suave demeanor to do so. But he's also perceptive enough to realize when it's not working. Pierce is a very clean person, he likes to keep both his possessions and his personal relationships nice and tidy. He is a surprisingly forgiving individual, willing to overlook most slights.
At his core, Pierce has an insatiable need to be desired. He doesn't have to like you, but he wants you to want him. He is flirtatious, and often sensual. But there are a lot of things that Pierce skims over- that he doesn't want to talk about. There are many things that he's invested in keeping confidential. And, actually, you'd think that a guy like him would be very popular, or at least talked about- but Pierce tends to be invisible until he decides he wants to be seen.
Pierce is naturally a creative, daring person- but ever since his incarceration he's been thinking heavily about what kind of person he wants to be. This is supposed to be a second chance, so he often inhibits himself, and pushes down his wildest impulses. His perceptions can often be narrow- Pierce is the type of person to zoom in on one thing in particular and focus on just that. He is calculating and opportunistic when he feels it will benefit him. Needless to say, he's a secretive person. He doesn't really talk about anything but his bowling career, and he definitely doesn't want to talk about his old friends!
Despite everything, Pierce is repentant. He made a mistake, he regrets it more than he could say. He wants to use his time at Infinity to get his life back on track. While there are many times where he seems kind of insincere, he genuinely means it this time. In the personal realm, Pierce really doesn't expect or demand much from other people. He is also Punctual with a capital P. If he says he's going meet someone at the arcade at four, he'll be there at four on the dot.
History:
Pierce grew up in a big house, literally and figuratively. A multi-generational household- he lived not only with his parents and grandparents- but also with his aunt, uncle in law, and his cousins. He was a middle child, and his mother's precious son. Although he was (mostly) raised by his grandparents.
And ever since he could remember, he was best friends with the kids the next street over. They went everywhere together.
His grandfather always chided him for hanging out with them, but what did he know? They were always coming up with harebrained schemes, and causing chaos around the neighborhood. Frankie was the brains, and Pierce was the the executor- he could be extremely convincing when he wanted to be.
Pierce and Frankie- like they were an iconic duo. Like Kirk and Spock, or Spongebob and Patrick. What's that commotion outside? "Oh it's just Pierce and Frankie, and the boys." Pierce, of course, always liked that his name came first- it was Pierce and Frankie. Not Frankie and Pierce- that didn't have the same ring to it.
Their friendship persisted after they started school, even when they were put into different classes. Pierce wasn't the greatest student- he wasn't all that smart, and he didn't pretend to be. (He still doesn't pretend to be- he doesn't know shit about dick!) Even in school they were causing a commotion- they couldn't sit together- except during lunch. Their teachers would sit them across the classroom from each other, so they couldn't cause as much trouble. They were still playing games though.
Pierce always knew he was destined for greatness. He didn't even mean that in an egotistical way- even if anyone who heard it would have taken it that way. He would always joke about ninjaing notes into his friends desks- they never saw him do it- but they were there. He began experimenting with his power young, and at some point refined it into a fine art. It didn't matter if they were seated at all four corners, he could still get a message out.
He was almost entirely focused on being liked. And then, when they got a little older, he was almost entirely focused on being liked. 99.9% of the time he didn't even want to act on it! Pierce had an incessant need to be desired- he wanted to be wanted, even if he wasn't interested in acting on it. The only thing Pierce was in love with was flirting. He just loved the romantic dance- pushing, pulling- gestures laden with meaning that meant absolutely nothing. But he never purposely led anyone on- if he actually liked someone, he'd ask them out.
He never asked anyone out.
In fact, he can only think of three people he's ever been genuinely attracted to in his entire life.
As they got older, the gang's "schemes" became more and more elaborate... And at some point, they crossed the line- between schemes and crimes.
Pierce was attractive, and he knew it, so he was always the distraction. He'd talk up the young lady that was running the register (it was always a young lady, and he'd always scope the place out first, they weren't bold enough to try it on anyone else,) and the boys would stuff as many drinks and snacks into their hoodies as they could possibly carry. He could always buy them at least five minutes.
Later they graduated to selling weed. There wasn't an easier way for a bunch of high schoolers to make money. Or Pierce would do his distraction routine and they'd lift some beer.
Pierce never had any ambitions- he was having too much fun to think that far ahead. He and the boys would hit up arcades all the time- or when the first of them got their license, they'd drive out to Seaside to hang at the boardwalk, or to Great Adventure.
Bowling wasn't even on his radar. He went once or twice with his family forever ago- and it wasn't that fun. When one of his friends wanted to go- he groaned on the inside- but he went.
So he put on the weird heavily used shoes, and he found a ball that he liked or whatever (that was how you picked out bowling balls, right? You just picked the one that you felt you had a spiritual connection with), he got one of those blue Icee's that stained his lips, and made him look like he had frostbite (but was delicious, so he wasn't going to stop drinking it), and they put in their names on the little terminal thing, and then they started playing.
He didn't really remember the rules, but obviously- don't cross the line- don't flop down on your belly like a seal, and slide down the lane to where the pin setter would take you back to hell or wherever- don't throw the bowling ball like a baseball or basketball, and don't fall over like an jackass- easy, right?
They were actually there to hit on chicks, and he was supposed to be his friend's wingman.
And, sometimes, he'd also hit on dudes, and just about anyone else. That was why he was so attached to those cocks. They supported him- had his back. They were a Brotherhood. (Sometimes Frankie called it The Fellowship, and he really should have called him on that, because that shit was way nerdier than bowling.) He was protected there in a way we wasn't even protected in his own home. They had each other's backs in the face of threats that didn't even exist...
But they'd also leave each other to the wolves if something went wrong, especially if they perceived that they'd paddled themself up shit creek. No need to get in the line of fire.
The moment he put his fingers in the grips on the ball he'd randomly chosen, he felt something. His heart didn't grow three sizes that day- but he knew he had to go back.
Good god, it was actually fun. Really fun, he genuinely enjoyed himself that evening- and he wasn't sweating bullets on the inside, wondering if one of the gremlins was going to dead drop down onto the floor and have the soda in his pockets explode. (If that ever happened, he could have saved them. Could. If they spoiled his perfect setup, they were on their own.)
He started going there more and more, and at some point he realized he was there every single day. His friends were surprisingly supportive- sure they teased him sometimes, but bowling was one of the nerdiest sports to ever exist. Two tiers above Dungeons and Dragons. Frankie was especially supportive, and the boys would all hang out there.
The alley was actually a great spot- the cops almost never came. People came and went all the time, and they could date and deal at the same time- perfect.
It was weird for him- almost overnight, his grandfather went from treating him with an air of derision and suspicion, to bragging about him. His teachers seemed to think he was less of a useless no-good. Even the other guys seemed to gain an air of respectability.
So- naturally- they got themselves into deeper shit.
Frankie came up with the idea, but as per usual, Pierce was the one that made it work. They were doing pretty well selling, but what if they came up with a new product? People liked things like edibles, because they were easy to hide, and how strong they were. A capsule or four could sit at the bottom of your purse, or in your wallet, undetected. Just a vitamin! Nothing to see here!
Pierce double broiled that shit- four capsules was enough to make a Clydesdale giggle. Once one of them got so high off of it he heard the traffic light change, and tried to open his front door with his car keys.
Graduation came and went, and Pierce was still an average at best student- Frankie was still a kind-of sort-of genius (an actual genius wouldn't have been hanging out with these fools.) They got a place together, and Pierce got a job at the bowling alley (there is nothing more suspicious in the world than a teenager living on his own without a job. Screams drug dealer.)
Then he finally started to get serious about the bowling thing. He had barely even knew bowling was a thing. Leagues weren't even on his radar, until he started working there and saw them playing.
He joined a league, and now that he was living with Frankie, they were cooking all the time. It was way easier to do it in your own kitchen, rather than having to come up with an increasingly convoluted series of lies, or wait until someone's parents were out of town and try to fumigate as quickly as possible.
They started dealing more outside of the alley, and Pierce moonlighted often. He didn't have to worry about getting stabbed, since he could just take the knife. (He did have to worry about the orientation of the knife, didn't help if he was grabbing the blade instead of the handle.) And if the cops came, he could be somewhere else in an instant.
With the cash he was making, he could finally purchase his own ball (and he actually knew something about bowling balls now: weight mattered, oil mattered, everything mattered.) He even got a teacher who actually sat down and taught him all the terms, and how the game really worked on and off the lanes.
Pro Bowling wasn't like other sports. You don't sign to a team and get a signing bonus- you had to win. That kind of spooked him. He had a pretty cushy setup... Did it really make sense to abandon it, running screaming into the void, to go on a tour where he might not even make any money?
They had an impeccably cushy setup. And while Pierce was satisfied, Frankie wanted more. The boys wanted more too. Pierce wasn't sure if he could do more. He was starting to feel that tug at his heart- he actually really wanted something for once- and the thing he wanted didn't have anything to do with a crapton of Sudafed. They respected his choice, they were still friends- and sometimes when he needed some extra cash, he'd smurf for them.
Because without the extra cash he was making? Working at the bowling alley wasn't cutting it.
After joining the league and actually getting lessons, his average was between 200-210: Semi-pro. Semi-pro bowlers make less than nothing. The time he spent working on his game was a sunk cost, then there was the money that he had to pay the league to compete...
The difference between a pro and a semi-pro bowler is
Pierce may not have been a genius, but he knew better than to jump into that right away: so he got a soul-sucking job at Amazon instead. Every single day he stepped into that warehouse, it felt like he had his hand on the handle and was flushing his soul straight down the toilet. It was worse during the holidays- gift wrapping and only being able to use three pieces of tape was bullshit. But he needed the money, so he sucked it up.
He never used his power when he bowled- but at the warehouse? He used it all the time. They were expected to cover such a wide area by themselves that nobody ever caught on. He saved money. He bought more equipment, more balls. He started to bowl at other alleys that were known to have different oil patterns- he even entered a few local competitions. He won some of them!
For the longest time, Pierce loved flirting more than anything else in the world- that intoxicating dance that didn't have to mean anything. But his true love was bowling. Ever since he was sixteen and threw that first ball. He could keep a cool calm when he flirted- he was in total control- it didn't make his heart pound. But when someone even brought it up, he'd start beaming when he talked about bowling. Always cool Pierce, who rarely ever smiled with teeth, beaming like an absolute nerd.
It felt like reaching toward divinity- like he was one step away from the immortals. If it wasn't so centered on one thing and one place, he'd probably wonder if he was having a manic episode. He felt manic about it.
But at the rate he was going, he'd be going on tour... Never. He'd be going on tour never. His average was up, but he needed money to travel. He still had to keep paying his league fees. He needed transportation fees, and he needed money for lodging- food, everything else.
Somewhere along the way, he had started getting these weird letters in the mail. But he didn't pay much attention to them. Probably just some joke.
He knew someone with plenty of money.
He'd still been hanging out with Frank (he went by Frank now, which really didn't have the same ring to it,) and the boys. He just didn't dip his toes into anything serious. And man, had they gotten serious while he was away. He also noticed that Frank was sniffing awfully hard while he was around him that evening, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he joked with him about it.
They talked, and Frank cut him a deal. He'd help him out- fully fund him even, if he'd help him with a job. Nothing big, he just had to do what he used to do, be a distraction.
Honestly, Pierce should have been more suspicious. But this was Frank
And it really should have been.
It was going to be! But when you add drugs into the mix, especially what Pierce considered hard drugs, things never go how they're supposed to. He really should have calculated that. Even if he did, he wouldn't have anticipated things going as far left as they did.
Pierce was juiced. He was amped, and he was ready. He started talking up the woman at the counter like he always did. He bought them at least five minutes- like he always did. Everything was going according to plan. Just a little more and he'd be home fr-
He was completely unaware of the guns they'd brought to the party. He was excruciatingly aware of the gun that was wavering in his friend's hand. What the fuck was he thinking? His finger was on the trigger, and the alarm was going off, and Pierce tried to take it. Swear to god- he tried to take it.
If he hadn't, maybe he would have missed.
Regardless of how little Pierce had actually done, conspiracy with a group of men that had a rap sheet, a ton of drugs, and guns, did not reflect well on him... His grandfather had been right, as much as he hated to admit it. So instead of taking his cash and entering tournaments, he spent a few months in county waiting for the trial.
And he kicked himself in the ass about it every single day. He really should have just toughed it out at Amazon, or struggled through night school.
The lady, somehow, made it out alive. But it was odd how quickly the cops got there. He still found that odd. Even if his conscience hadn't prevented him from leaving immediately- he still would have been arrested.
Compared to the others, Pierce got away with a slap on the wrist.
It felt like his life was over though. Fucking Frankie. If he hadn't gone to him... Well, too late for that. He could manipulate space, not time. And he did a lot of that in prison. He was very attractive fresh meat, and he knew it. But nobody could make a move on him. If they did, suddenly they'd be across the room. Or down the hall, or on the other side of a door.
Pierce spent a lot of time thinking about what he should have done differently. And then, when he realized that wasn't doing anything for him- he spent a lot of time thinking about what he wanted to do. He wanted to bowl, to reach towards divinity.
He ran a lot out in the yard. He worked on his stance, even though he didn't have a ball. He even read books and shit.
And then, three months in, he got a visitor that wasn't a relative chiding him for every single "bad" decision he'd ever made. Infinity... Infinity. He'd heard that somewhere before. Where? The mail. The weird junk mail! The weird junk mail he threw away!
The first thing they threw at him was that he could come to their school, and serve out the remainder of his sentence there. But, that was a year- and he only had eight months left.
So Pierce decided to negotiate. They clearly had a decent amount of pull, if they were inviting him to spend the next year behind their golden gates.
He wanted his record cleared. Completely.
They couldn't do that- but they could drop some of the more egregious charges.
...Deal. It had to be better than the deal Frankie gave him (Frankie, not Frank, he didn't deserve to have the ie dropped anymore.) So he'd go there for a year, he'd be on his best behavior. He would genuinely work on himself, because he never wanted to be in this position ever again. He would work on his game, he'd bring his average up. Maybe he'd even learn a thing or two.
Who knows, maybe getting away from everything won't be so bad.
Other:
The Powers:
Spatial Manipulation- At the risk of sounding redundant, Pierce has the ability to manipulate space. He can push, pull, erase, and divide space at will. Generally Pierce is limited to the environment he's in- eg. he can't randomly pull something from one room into another unless he knows exactly where it is, and it would probably cause some structural damage, since it's not exactly teleportation.
As a more resource efficient individual, Pierce is much more likely to divide space to say, take a gun out of someone's hand and into his, as opposed to pulling a wall between the two of them. Or perhaps he'd erase space, and put himself behind the person who's shooting. In theory Pierce can create space as well. Think of a corridor that expands infinitely as you run towards him, him continuing to create space to keep you far away.
As he reaches higher power levels he'll be able to essentially pinch and pull space, drawing all nearby objects to a point, or violently blowing everything at a certain point back.
Love him, hate him, wanna date him?