Have you see the OVA or read the manga series of Hellsing?
OVA 1-4 and through most of the manga
Name:
Timoteo Maximiliano (Timmy)
Age:
24
Gender:
Male
Physical appearance:
Timmy is a big fellow, over six and a half feet tall. Some would say he is strong as a bull but not quite as smart as one. Timmy would smile at that. Muscle stands out on his shoulders and arms, but he has a bit of a belly. Coarse brown hair covers his arms, chest and back, doing much to hide the scars of battle that mar his body here and there.
That same deep brown hair hangs bushily over his eyes, nearly hiding his amber gaze. When they can be seen, those eyes are often lit with a child-like joy and crows feet crowd the edges. A shaggy beard haphazardly cut lines his broad jaw. It does little and less to cover the loopy smile often parting Timmy's broad lips. Slighty crooked but pearly white, he shows his teeth whenever he grins or laughs. Over the top of that head of bushy hair is usually found a knit hat resembling a pointy eared dog. It is Timmy's most prized position and he wears it everywhere he goes.
Clothing of choice:
As mentioned previously, Timmy possesses a most prized hat. A similar hat was his when he was just a child and when it wore out, it would not do but for Timmy to have another. On through the years it went. Today's rendition resembles a husky puppy, with pointed ears, grey and white fur and happy blue eyes.
Everything else Timmy wears varys from day to day. But one can expect to see him in brownish wool trousers, a long sleeve shirt with buttons down the chest and no collar, and a leather vest. Supple brown boots with straps and silver buckles stop just below his knees. His shirt is often tucked in on only one side and the sleeves are rolled up over his elbows. A broad brown belt winds through his pants, often missing a loop here and there. Although he dons new clothes everyday (whatever the nuns lay out for him), they are often stained by dirt and mud by day's end.
Weaponry of choice:
Timmy's weapon is his ability. To give the man-child a knife or gun would be irresponsible and likely end with him hurting himself or a friend.
Race:
Special human
Abilities:
When Timmy was eight, he was abducted by an organization specializing in human ability manipulation. They felt that if they could imbue their subjects with a sensitivity toward some quantum or newtonian force at a young age, the subject would grow and begin to exert control over that force. While their experiments displayed great potential, most of the subjects were killed in the experimentation or found themselves brain damaged by the silicon chips used to sensitivize their mind.
Timmy was one of the latter. The chip placed in his brain allows him to feel and manipulate matter in order to change the gravitational pull in an area. In effect, he can create a super-dense point that causes all matter around it to be pulled toward the point and crushed. But this chip halted his mental development, leaving him mentally an eight year old. He has no real control over his amazing power; when he experiences extreme emotion toward a person or object, it often becomes victim of his crushing attention. He has to see the object or being he attacks; if they are hidden behind a wall and he is aware of their location, he is still unable to affect them. The power also takes a little bit of time to come fully into effect, allowing potential victims to escape away from sight before being imploded, if they're fast enough.
[For posting clarity:
-First post after Timmy's attack commences: opponent feels draw of unseen force, if focused on them, they will likely get a bloody nose and one hell of a headache
-Second post after Timmy's attack commences: opponent is not able to run away with normal speed, will feel extremely strong pull of unseen force, will have other blood vessels in the head begin to rupture (nothing that cannot be healed even in a normal human)
-Third post after Timmy's attack commences: opponent had better be out of line of sight, unseen force becomes inescapable, if focused on opponent, they are internally crushed (resulting in death of normal human, scale down for non-humans)
-Fourth post after Timmy's attack commences: death for anyone that didn't get out of line of sight]
Because of the sporatic and unpredictable nature of his power, Enrico Maxwell had another chip implanted in Timmy's mind. This one can trigger an instantaneous rage, coaxing Timmy into using his power. But in this state of mindless rage, it can be hard to predict if the man-child will direct his concentration toward foe or friend.
Organization:
Iscariot
Personality:
Timmy has the mind of a six to eight year old child due to the brain damage he recieved when he was that age. He can recognize the extremes of right and wrong, but the details of ethics and that all too common grey area are beyond him. He can add triple didgets (!) and even multiply some numbers, but division and higher math is beyond him. Timmy's math skills far exceed his grammar skills. He can speak clearly, but he cannot read and he cannot write.
He is generally a very happy man, exploring the world with the glee of a child. Every day is a new adventure in his eyes and something as simple as a balloon animal or an R/C car excites and amazes him. He loves flowers and other colorful things and is often found wearing a flower in his hair. He is also mischievous, though almost always in a good-natured way.
While his happiness is prevalent, his other emotions are extremely strong and can emerge with the slightest provocation. Like a child, if something is taken unexpectedly from him, he grows jealous and even angry. If a friend is hurt or even just threatened, his anger quickly turns to rage and with that extreme emotion comes his power. In these cases he also often experiences fear and he neither comprehends his power or understands that it is at his command.
Timmy likes puzzles and other games, especially ones where he gets to show his strength. Aside from his power, Timmy's greatest gift is his strength and he will lift large rocks and the like for the simple joy that it brings to him. He also loves singing and is almost constantly humming or making up the words to a tune he heard. Oh and food! Timmy loves food. Meat, veggies, bread, it's all amazing and fantastical.
Rank:
Biography:
Timmy doesn't remember being born. That was far too long ago. Nor does he remember a mother or father, though sometimes in his dreams he hears a half-remembered song and it makes him feel safe. What he does remember is rough stone on his small feet, shivering in the dark under a meager covering of cardboard, and the hollow pain of an empty tummy. What little of his early childhood Timmy can recall was more feelings and emotions than particular situations.
His mother died in childbirth, his father was only present for his conception. And being birthed in a illegal and hardly profitable whorehouse meant that he was shown the door and left to fend for himself as soon as he could walk. They didn't even bother giving him a name, rather just calling him figlo, boy. Days old bread dug out of dumpster would be an occasional meal, if he could protect it from the older, more violent street urchins. Meat was an unknown luxury, as were clean clothes with no holes.
This child sized hell lasted for several years. Little Timmy grew, slowly, and became one of the more violent street urchins that could fend for his own territory. Several times he was chased by police and orphanages tried to take him in. But he wanted none of that; he would make it on his own. Then, at age eight, something happened which would change little Timmy's life forever.
One particularly cold evening, as the scrawny boy was rooting through a dumpster in search of a morsel of food, he heard footsteps splash through the freezing water of the alley. Knowing he had been heard, he poked his head over the top of the dumpster, expecting a policeman or another young trouble maker. Instead, he was greeted by a shadowy man in a dark coat and hat. The man offered him a better life, warmth and food, all he could eat.
An easy decision, the boy crawled from the dumpster and took the man's hand, allowing himself to be led from the street. He was taken to a military facility, all steel and stone and hard light. It wasn't alive like the brown stone of Rome, but it was the first security that Timmy had ever felt in his life. He was fed three (!) times a day and he played with other children as well as receiving schooling. After several months of good nutrition and exercise, the once malnourished boy began to grow. In fact, while Timmy was being provided with a healthy diet, he was also being injected with various growth hormones, helping him to recover and exceed his stunted growth.
A few months more, and the dark man with the hat came back. This time Timmy was asked if he would like to have super powers, like Spiderman or the X-Men. Timmy had never heard of any spidery sort of man or X-Men, but when their powers were explained to him, he whole-heartedly agreed that having super powers would be a great thing indeed. With the eight year old boy's consent, they took him to an operating room and inserted a chip in his brain to attune him more closely to the gravitational forces at work in the universe.
After months of training, Timmy could feel the forces around him and even bring a grown man to his knees with pinpointed concentration. However, during this training, Timmy's new found friends began to get sick and disappear. When he asked his handlers about it, they always said his friends were going home to visit family and since he had no family, he stayed at the facility. It was also observed during this time that Timmy's ability to learn new things had slowed and possibly stopped.
A year passed, then two. After three long years, Timmy could crumple a car or implode a shed. He could pull a man across a room and throw him against a wall. He could take bullets and crush them together into a lead ball. But never on command. It seemed as though the boy had little to no control of this immense power. Only pain or extreme emotion could rouse his latent power. All his friends were gone, though younger children would come and go around him. And, most concerning, he had still not learned to read, to write, to do arithmetic. Nor was he maturing emotionally; whenever he had harmed a man or child, he would curl up in a ball and wail uncontrollably, frightened by his power and the harm it caused.
No longer willing to dedicate time or resources to the mentally stunted boy, the handlers left the boy to his own devices. He mainly played in the sandbox by himself, digging holes, watching the children come and go, get sick and die. Then, one day, Timmy's life changed forever, again. A military raid on the complex saw the death of nearly all the men and women that developed the children and placed chips in their brains. So too did the children with newly implanted chips as they were used to fight against the raiders. The surviving children had no implants and were much the same as Timmy when he first came to the complex. All of them were taken away and given to families or orphanages.
This is how, at age 12, Timmy found himself at Father Anderson's orphanage. It was difficult to integrate the child, as he would lash out at anyone who would try to help him. When one nun persisted, his anger manifested and he threw the poor woman against a wall with his power, nearly crippling her. This was immediately brought to the attention of Father Anderson, who took the boy under his wing, trying to help him control his emotions while attempting to understand the breadth of the boy's power and hide him from the less moral members of Iscariot.
A few more years passed and Enrico Maxwell became head of Iscariot. Inevitably he discovered the boy who could manipulate gravity and demanded to have him at his Section's disposal. Timmy was placed under the knife again, this time having a chip implanted that could control his emotions. Now 18, the boy was truly a weapon. Anderson did not fully approve of using the impaired boy in such a way as he could not truly understand the things he did, so Maxwell handed the controls over to him. After all, the chip was a benefit to Timmy, as it helped to control the extreme emotions that could cause him to unintentionally hurt a friend.
Since then, Timmy has participated in various missions, usually at the command of Maxwell. He has grown to love his Catholic compatriots and is extremely possessive and protective of them. He also has a great love for the orphanage, the nuns and the children. He loves nothing more than to be with them all day, which is often where he can be found.
RP sample:
"Timoteo, focus!"
The harsh voice yanked the young boy from his day dreams. Reluctantly, he pulled his gaze down, the white plume of a con trail dissipating in the pale blue sky. "I can't. It's too hard." His voice sounded weak in comparison to the commanding tone of the trainer standing before him. He dug a booted toe in the turf, wishing he was barefooted. He liked playing in the dirt and making tunnels and little forts and throwing mudballs.
"Timoteo! Crush it! Now!"
...He did not like "practice". Acting as though the movement physically pained him, he lifted an arm, palm down and slowly squeezed his hand into a fist. Nothing happened. Timmy narrowed his amber eyes and repeated the motion. A quiet crack and an extremely small dent in the can held in his trainer's hand was the only result. The black haired trainer threw the can on the ground, wiping at his hooked nose in disgust. "You are worthless."
Timmy bared his teeth in a mischievous grin. The trainer frowned, touching his forehead, then wiped his hand across his nose again. This time, blood came away on his palm. He looked up sharply, shocked. "Stop, boy. You will open doors you have no desire to open."
Continuing to dig a hole in the ground with his toe, Timmy replied, "I can shut any door that opens." In proof, the slatted door that cordoned off their training area creaked shut. When Timmy raised his gaze from his little divot, his eyes glowed malevolently. He didn't want to train right now.
The trainer didn't pause to consider his quandary. In two swift steps, he was at the boy's side. He swiped at the insolent gaze with a heavy hand. Timmy hit the ground with a thud and glared up insolently at the man. That had hurt. He rubbed gingerly at the bruise already raising on his cheek. "That was a bad idea." His small boyish voice only made the dark-haired man smile. He lifted his arm as he had earlier, palm down, fingers outstretched.
The man's eyes widened. "Don't you dare, you little..." CRACK. Timmy's fingers snapped into a fist. Before he could finish his thought, the man's head suddenly collapsed, a spout of blood violently ejecting from his mouth. He collapsed to the ground in a heavy pile. In an instant, the boy was up, kicking at the body with all his effort, pummeling his fists against the limp flesh. "I hate you!" he screamed, kicking over and over again. His foot finally missed and he slipped in the mud created out of dirt and blood, sitting down hard.
"I hate you," he whispered, pulling his knees to his chest as tears began to pour from his amber eyes. His fingers dug into his calves as he rocked back and forth, sobs wracking his small frame until exhaustion overtook him. Then he just sat there, arms around his knees, staring dully at the bloody body laying in the dirt before him. That was how they found him, hours later.http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/71ZfbRcw6HL._AA1500_.jpg
Subject: Timoteo Maximiliano 
