Nurse Fausta Aroa Adler [Completed]

Nurse Fausta Adler wrote:

Name: Nurse Fausta Aroa Adler.

Simultaneously the most German and America name ever created.

Doctor Eagle McFreedomguns wrote:

Age: Fausta is in her late eighties, but she will never admit to it. Appears in her late-twenties.

Gender: Female.

Figures and facts.

Numbers wrote:

Physical appearance: Always being looked down on, literally, with a height that just reaches 5'2'', not including her high heels. She's the definition of hourglass, her short torso swelling out at her chest and hips and shrinking in at the waist to a full figure, leading down to her legs. A ghastly pale girl with a round, youthful face and long red hair. Naturally it is blonde, she just prefers the red color. Her hair reaches down a to her mid-back with a slight wave in it's texture, cut with layers that frame around her face and parted off to the left side. Her wide eyes are an inhuman shade of green and appear even larger behind her glasses. Her puffy lips are more often than not pulled downwards into a pout, but when she smiles wide enough it gives a perfect view of her pearly sharpened canines. She has a short nose, which points upwards at the tip ever so slightly. As far as make-up goes, in most cases she would be found with a bit of mascara and a touch of bright red lipstick.

She doesn't have very many distinguishing marks, but her combination of traits make her an easy person to spot. She has one fairly old scar on the front of her right shoulder, just near her collarbone and always hidden under her clothes when she's wearing them. It's a bulletwound, from around August 1944 in Warsaw.

Spoiler:

Look, a full description.

Small font wrote:

Clothing of choice: If one were to look inside of Fausta's closet, they could almost be blinded by the amount of white clothing. In fact, it is almost impossible to find anything that isn't white. Most often in the laboratory, though, she can be found wearing her typical uniform, if typical is what you would call it. A white latex dress with a cut-out on the chest in the shape of a surgical cross. The sides and the back are completely missing, connecting the top and bottom only by a strip of fabric down the front. The dress is sleeveless and with a high neck, normally accompanied by a matching medical armband and a pair of white latex boots that reach to just a couple of inches below her knees, bearing red crosses on the top. To top that all off, her typical nurses cap stays clipped in her hair. White with the red medical cross, like the rest of her clothing. In addition, a staple of the medical team, a pair of gloves that reach halfway to her elbows. In times for operation, she wears an apron and a surgical mask and sometimes a lab coat, tappered at the waist to fit better.

Regtangular wire frame glasses are also worn when she is working or reading. Her eyesight isn't awful but they are needed sometimes for magnification.

Spoiler:

Can't say dressing up in that outfit is a particularly good idea with a large amount of probable rapists aboard the zeppelin, but it works.

Baseball wrote:

Weaponry of choice: Within a small black case that she mostly keeps concealed either inside of deep pockets, if wadrobe permits, or in her desk are a couple of custom sterling silver tools. A scalpel and a pair of pliers, both with "F.A." carved into the handles. They were a gift from an old friend. In dire need, she will use whatever blunt object she can find near her if it is neccesary.

I don't really think silver tools are a good idea for a vampire to be handling. Direct contact's not going to end well for you.

Burning ring of fire wrote:

Race: FREAK.

Had a change in races since you last applied. FREAKS are now just vampires with a few special notes for their kind concerning ability.

F? wrote:

Abilities: A small level of supernatural strength and above human speed, agility, reflexes, and strength, among other things like inhuman durability and stamina as well as a very keen sense of hearing. On the downside, her regeneration is a very slow process [required time depending on severity of wound], and she harbors extreme weakness to things such as blessed weapons and silver to the point of fatality, and is required to drink blood more often. Also processes the ability to change virgins and non-virgins into ghouls.

Fausta has the great ability to think on her toes and improvise greatly in surgical matters. She contains a vast knowledge of first aid and biology.

Mockery; Due to her acute hearing and plenty of time to train her vocals cords to change [not to mention a little bit of scientific help], the nurse can mimic nearly any voice that she hears for a certain amount of time, to around three or more collective minutes of speech before she can pick up on the pattern and successfully copy the tones. At the most, she can only currently maintain one different voice for around ten minutes before her vocal cords become weak and she can no longer maintain the ability. If she manages to run the full ten minutes all at once, she can't repeat the ability again for a couple of hours.

Only thing would be checking the vampire skills against the race updates.

Chatot wrote:

Organization: Millennium.

The Nazis.

THE LAW wrote:

Personality: Fausta can easily be desribed as an air-head. That's not to say that she isn't smart, but sometimes she just doesn't pay attention to what's going on around her. She panics quickly at the first sight of danger and is prone to fits of rage and hysteria. The tiggers for her fits are mostly male violence aimed in her direction. Her opinions on the opposite gender vary from cannon-fodder to romantic toys, depending on her mood or the situation. Fausta never had a good sense of right or wrong, even long before she worked for Millennium. She believes in doing whatever it takes to stay alive and pursuing your own interests and if that means being on the side of "wrong", then so be it. She's less likely to keep herself alive, however, then find someone else that she can cling to for protection. And men are perfect for playing up to that role.

Fausta speaks with many different inflections in her voice, varying from high to low and even the speed of her words. Unlike the stereotype of her heritage, she is very expressive with her face and her hands, gesturing wildly when she forgets herself and is carried away in speech. She is very informal in conversation and likes to use profanity and slang from her younger years.

The Doktor, being the one she takes direct orders from mostly, well he's a completely different story. Fausta won't even try to mess with him in any way, for the most part. She has slip-ups where she'll make little remarks or outbursts of emotions, but she's quick to bite her tongue and remember her place. Frankly, even after 60 years he still scares the shit out of her. The same stands for a good portion of the Millennium higher-ups, but that doesn't mean she's all too happy about it.

Like many others inside of the Millennium laboratories, Fausta is a tab bit of a coward. In the situation of having to fight, she'd much rather turn the other way and run. From time to time she might have her moments of bravery and even the more likely moment of being an idiot and opening her big mouth to make things worse, but she'd much rather save her own skin than try to come out as the winner of a battle.

Wait, so she's NOT a super badass who can kill anyone in fits of rage and never backs down from a fight? Disappointing...

Nonconformist wrote:

Rank: Nurse.

Garbage man.

Teacher wrote:

Biography: Born as a perfectly healthy, blonde haired green eyed child in the early 1920's to Johannes Kaiser Adler and Lutgarda Aroa Baecker-Adler, Fausta was the only child of her family. Raised in Berlin, the world around them seemed to changed drastically as her mother and father struggled to stay the same. Trapped in the old ages, they fought their hardest to keep their newly born daughter away from the ideas of the Weimar Republic and all other ideas that opposed their once great Mother Germany, even with it hard to remain optimistic in such a down time.

Growing up, her mother held no job. 'Kinder, Kueche, Kirche', it was something that her mother said quite often, almost as if trying to beat it into the small child's mind. It became such a familiar thing for the young Fausta to hear every time she was about. Though even without a job, her mother remained with the old family hobby of baking, something that Fausta's Grandfather had taught her mother. The smell of cakes and dark bread was something almost as common as her mother's favorite saying, the two going hand-in-hand together at all times. But even when she smiled, the young daughter couldn't help but question why the woman who raised her had such a sad look in her eyes all the time.

Johannes, her father, was much less colder to his younger child than the mother was. Although he spent a lot of time away from home working as a carpenter, he had a hobby as well. Whenever the man was home, he would make cuckoo clocks. Although he sold some of them, he became attached to the ticking blocks of wood and kept many of them in the room where he made them. Fausta liked to sit in that room with her father and watch the clocks being made. She enjoyed the sound, the never ending tick-tick-tick that always seemed to fill the room, none of them ticking at the same time, the noise out of sync. It seemed to be the way that she bonded with her father, the way they could stand the many sounds without being driven mad.

In the time away from her mother and father, Fausta would spend her time alone rather than with other younger children. It's not as if she didn't want to play with other children, but she was just bored with their manner of play. Instead, books filled her small room and they occupied most of her time. Published medical journals, scientific theories, dictionaries and references, and the occasional book of folklore and ghostly tales. All books that she would receive for free after begging the lady at the library for all their unwanteds. Anything that she could have, something to take up her free moments that would be useful, despite how her mother frowned upon it.

The late 1930's came, and it was a strange time. With new rule came new laws, and the women of Germany were removed from their jobs to make more jobs for the men. Fausta had just entered a medical school, her father paying for her education, and things looked dim. Originally under the training to be a doctor, Fausta's parents feared for their daughter and her life. If she couldn't train for a job that she could use, she would have to marry and accept the loan that the law permitted to newly married couples. It was then that the girl decided on a new course. A nurse was something that would be more relevant to the times. Her area of study was changed, and she continued with her education.

In school, Fausta wasn't exactly the star pupil. Sure, she was smart and pretty quick on her toes when the time had come, but the girl found that fooling around was much more fun than studying for her exams. Luckily for Fausta, she was was able to find a way to make up for the lazy test grades in a way that everyone was a winner. It was this time that she had learned how easily pursuable men were and how to use it to her advantage.

Outside of school, the war was at a boil, the people around her in a frenzy of patriotism. Although apathetic to the situation, pressure forced her to sign-up for helping the army, and she was shipped off to a medical base not too far from Moringen, the place of her nightmares.

The majority of her work there consisted of helping the injured soldiers and guards from the nearby camp, which wasn't much. Treated with general disdain, Fausta remained unhappy at her location, going through the motions of her job to keep herself alive.

On occasion, she would listen to the doctors talk, they rumored like schoolgirls about a place inside of Poland. Warsaw to be more exact. She heard talk to experiments and horror, strange people doing even stranger things. They spoke with disgust over their meals about the workers there and the strange group that held them. The idea in itself thrilled her. Someplace different, maybe a place where she would be better off.

Though not all of her time there was so unhappy. The guards at the camp, although seen by her as dim-witted little puppets, served a good part in keeping her sane. Hell, she even found herself sneaking around with one of them in a manner that could even be considered as "going steady", which was not something very common for the flighty blond. But of course for her, things could only stay good for so long.

One dangerous scuffle and Fausta found herself stuck with a dead Nazi on her hands. Delirious and panicking, she did the first thing she could think of to conceal the body. Stripping him of his uniform, hacking away at his hair and kicking a few teeth from his mouth, she dragged him to a little ditch near one of the barracks and left the body there. With his uniform, she hid it beneath all of her packed clothing and the teeth went straight into an empty glass jar which she found in her room.

Staying there would be too dangerous, she had to leave as soon as possible. But just leaving would be too risky. There had to be another place that she could go to. Then she remembered it. The place the head doctors gossiped about with great disgust. The perfect place.

Withdrawing from the base, Fausta went off on a journey to find the people that she wanted to find. She needed to do it quickly as well. It seemed to her as if the war was almost coming to an end and she feared that she may have been discovered. Reading papers along her travels, she had discovered that the base she was working at had recently been captured by the allies and they were steadily moving on.

Inside Warsaw, she finally found what she was looking for. The Millennium research facility. After much begging, she had been granted a position as a nurse to help assist in their medical research. Fausta was more than pleased by this and entered within the group with much joy, seemingly oblivious to the horrors. Over time, however, she grew to be a part of their great war machine.

The war had ended and the Millennium fled away to Brazil, continuing where they had left off. And as they did, their research had improved greatly, and much new knowledge had been gained. Without much hesitation, the young girl offered herself as a guinea pig for a newly modified device, one that was much better than the original. The FREAK chip was placed into her system and the living Fausta ceased to exist as human, but it did little to change her spirit.

Even though she furthered her education greatly, due to the fact that she is not formally trained she still holds the title of "nurse", inside and outside of the Millennium.

One question: Is this your father?

Germany wrote:

RP sample: The distant sound of gunfire was what awoke the nurse from her daily nap. She wasn't supposed to sleep during work hours, but she had one hell of a long night and it wasn't as if anyone was paying attention to her at her post. She was shoved off in a desolate corner known as section twelve west wing of the Warsaw facility. It wasn't a very hard job, as there were only ten subject cells that she had to observe, five on each side of the short hallway. It was, however, very boring work. No one liked observation duty. That was just like them to put her somewhere that no one else wanted to be. But the upside was the isolation. Sure, there were cameras everywhere, though it was hard to believe they were constantly paying attention to her with as busy as they all where and the little amount of activity and work to be done in her small section, she was almost completely certain her screen was never looked at. Not during working hours, at least.

Lifting her head from the desk, she raised her arms high over her head to stretch out the pain in her back from sleeping doubled-over. The feeling was nostalgic, it made her think of her time at University. Her reminicing was cut short by another barage of gunfire. It wasn't unusual for them to hear that several times throughout the day. There was a war going on their doorstep after all. Without giving it a second thought, she reached for the pack of cigarettes sitting on the desk and her lighter. She'd already had her evening nap, a little smoke couldn't hurt anything. In for a penny, in for a pound. She lit the cigarette and exhaled a large cloud of smoke as she sank back into the rather uncomfortable wooden chair. From within one of the cells, a low groan emitted, a very pained cry. Fausta scoffed, taking another long drag from the cancer stick. "Ja, I know how zhat feels, buddy," she lamented, eyeing dully over the papers on the surface of the desk. Timesheets and notes of observation, nothing too out of the ordinary. Most of the subjects died quickly, anyway. Their efforts almost seemed pointless, at least to her. But it was a job and survival. As long as she was here, she was at least mildly safe. Considering the bombs, warefare, the crazy leader, and the cells full of ghouls. What could possibly go wrong?

Fausta stretched her arms up again, still shaking off the last bit of sleepiness. For the third time, she heard the firing of guns. This was odd, however. It sounded closer than the daily warfare that they had been so desensitized towards. She paused for a moment, her arms still stretched above her head, a puzzled look washed over her face as she wonder if maybe something was wrong. The thought had barely begun to wrap around her brain as the alert lights began to flash, red light bathing in waves over the already grim setting that was the blood-stained floors and cracking walls. "Alert! Evcuation route C! Security breach, subject cells in the east wing have been opened!" The intercom blared with such intensity, followed by the sounding of the alarms. The nurse's peaceful night was taking a turn for the worst.

She hadn't bothered to gather up any of her work, the survival instinct was kicking in and all it was telling her to do was run, the cigarette dropping out of her lips and falling to the desk. Run as fast as she could manage in a pencil skirt and a pair of heels and hope that the whole building hadn't gone into an uproar yet. The hope had abandoned her the second she reached the end of the hall and flung open the door to the second-floor main hallway. The screaming paired with the blaring alarms was nearly defening. The collection of the staff ran in a large herd, making it nearly impossible for the nurse to even leave the doorway. Looking back into the small section behind her, she watched as a fire began to burn on the top of her desk, rapidly crawling over the surface. There wasn't much of a choice now. Her heartbeat in her throat, she swallowed hard and gathered up the will to jump headlong into the stampede of chaos, her only exit. Frantic and scared, she did her best to try and keep up speed with the group, lest she wanted to get trampled to death. It wasn't an easy feat, as she was being shoved from all angles, pushed and pulled by the grasping hands of her comrades as they all fought their way to the front, wanting to be the first to make it out alive.

Suddenly, a slip. The shoe on her left foot loosened, throwing off her balance and sending her tumbling to the ground. Luckily, she was able to soften the blow with her hands, but that did little to help the situation as she was now being trampled underfoot by the servely panicking staff. Crawling was usless, for as soon as she streched out her hands, they were stomped upon mercilessly, as well as the rest of her body, crushing underneath the weight of several running feet. Rolling onto her side, she curled into a tight ball, her arms pressed tight against the sides of her head, her legs pulled up to her chest. As much as she wanted to cry out for help, she knew it would be futile. In the event that anyone could hear her over the cluster of panic and sounds, it's not as if they would stop to help. This was survival of the fittest at it's best. The weak are left behind to die and fend for themselves. Obviously, right now, she was the lowest on the chain.

After what almost felt like forever, it all stopped. The stomping was gone, but the screaming and sirens continued. Her body aching and bruised all over, the nurse slowly sat herself upright, watching the last of the herd run around the corner at the far end of the hallway, a few stragglers still running past her. "Nurse Adler!" A voice cried out. Looking up, she found herself hovered by one of the researchers, a superior of hers. "You shouldn't be sittingk around, zhey're corneringk us. Ve haff to go," he informed, placing out his hand to help her up. "W-who's corneringk us? Vhat zhe hell ist goingk on? Vhere is Herr Doktor!?" Off of the floor and tossing aside her broken shoes, she struggled for a moment with the cluster of questions. How could this even happen? "It seems he's been evacuated already, but zhat's not important, ve can't stay here. I'll explain everyzhingk vhen ve ge-" his words were cut short by a terrible chorus of moans. Twisting her neck around, the blond nurse was greeted by the sight of several men making their way towards them. Not even men, ghouls. Some of them were old subjects, but others appeared to be staff, chunks of flesh torn from their limbs and faces. Gaping in disbelief, Fausta shook her head, nearly frozen to the spot with fright. Tugging at her arm, the researcher attempted to drag her along, the ghouls only a few feet away. "Now, ve haff to leave now!" But she didn't move, she thought for a moment. If they ran, they would just chase them, they needed a distraction.

Pulling her arm out of his grasp, she waited for a few seconds, the ghouls drawing nearer. Sweat began to pour from the man's face as he crouched, ready to take off in a mad dash. But that wasn't going to happen. Fausta drew back her leg and swept it forward, pulling one of his feet out from underneath him. He collapsed onto the floor into a heap, but the nurse didn't bother to stay and watch what happened next. She took off running as fast as she could in her state of confusion and pain. She winced as she heard him screaming out to her, begging for help. She didn't look back, afraid of what she might witness.[/size][/list]

Only thing that needs fixing is the race.

D is the limit.

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