| Blaine James Wilson |
 |
| Portrayed By: | Zach Braff |
| Status: | Hungry |
| Age: | 22 |
| Occupation: | Computer Consultant |
| Freak Factor: | The Avenging Ratman |
Background
What's in a name?
A name can be a powerful thing. Some names, like Alexander or Hercules, harken back to the heroes of old. Other names mean things like Father of Peace, and harken to more recent legends, like Axel. Some names carry with them a sense of family history. Some names just sound cool. So, all things considered, I'm not really sure what my parents were thinking when they decided to name me an androgynous word for skinny.
There's really not any way to disguise it, either, being a one-syllable word. "Blaine." Rhymes with "Plain" and "Jane." Can't really go around calling myself "Blay" or "Nhh." Sure, I could have been one of those guys whose name is so boring they go by their first two initials, but given that my middle name is James, that would have just been a whole other world of awkward come high school.
So, there I was, one Blaine James Wilson, born one resplendent April's eve. Resplendent until I had to get evicted from my nice chill pad and into the real world, with all the blood and pushing and carbon dioxide and whatnot. Now, while I've always had a pretty sharp memory, I can't really say I remember much about that night, or the next two years or so, for that matter. By all accounts, though, I was born to Jason and Juliette Wilson, weighed in at 5 pounds 2 ounces, and wouldn't stop screaming. That's probably because they kept calling me Blaine, and I kept trying to tell them, "I'm not a girl! I'm not a girl! Call me John, Bill, Herman, anything, just make it a boy's name!"
Anyway, to make a long story short, the next few months went along pretty smoothly. I apparently resigned myself from the hope of a name change pretty quickly, because I didn't do much screaming from then on. Mostly I just chilled in my crib, checking out this whole new thing they call the world. Or the ceiling. Not that I knew any better.
My parents were kinda nerds. They liked to read, or maybe just to hear themselves talk, so I spent a lot of time listening to stories about child starvation and nursery rhymes about peoples' wives being stuffed into pumpkin shells. They were all about the child psych stuff, trying to turn me into a genius. I like to think I come by my ingenuity naturally. Not to mention my stunning good looks and humility. Anyway, one way or another, I was apparently a pretty bright kid. I learned to talk, walk, and count backwards from a hundred all well ahead of schedule. By the time I got into pre-school I was already reading, and by the third day of second grade I was correcting my teacher's spelling mistakes. By the fourth day of second grade I had learned to write the phrase 'I will respect my elders' with chalk. Apparently outwitting someone five times your age is actually admonished by the education system. I believe it's part of the "No Teacher Left Behind" program.
I was kind of a wiz when it came to most of the stuff they had me learn in school. Long division, times tables, all fifty state capitals, spelling supercalifragilistic expialidocious from phonetics, it all just came naturally. In fact, pretty soon it was kinda boring, so I decided to make things more interesting by doing things like designing a more aerodynamic paper airplane, then holding test flights in the middle of class.
Needless to say, my career as an aircraft engineer was cut off in its prime. Detention wasn't too bad. I got to catch up on my X-Men comics and Star Trek novelisations. My parents started freaking out, though, so they had me see a counsellor and do a bunch of tests. As with most tests in school, they pretty much proved that I was a genius. Which meant I got to go hang out in the gifted class, and do extra computer labs, and learn exactly what a wedgie actually entailed.
I was never one to back down from who I am just because a few neanderthals think that trying to pull your underwear over your head is funny. Instead, I chose to embrace it. After all, I might've been a dork in this reality, but from five to nine on Thursday night I was the Dungeon Master, omnipotent overseer of Faerun, where none could challenge my power. That's around when I started taking Karate lessons, though. I knew that if I was going to stand up for myself, I'd have to have some Serious Skills, with a capital S.
That was back around when I started teaching myself how to code. My Dad had had a computer around since I was a wee tot - I have fond memories of spelunking in the Colossal Cave - and computers were already becoming one of my big time sinks. I started with the easy stuff, like C and Javascript. It wasn't long before I was pimping Windows, Linux and Macs. It was practically my calling. Well, not really - but it seemed like it at the time.
High school brought with it the usual problems. Girls, puberty, Harvard or Yale, issues any teenager has to deal with. Lucky me, I didn't have to worry about the former once I'd established myself as the biggest nerd on campus by becoming four-time chess club champion and reciting an entire monologue in Klingon for the school talent show. I figured I'd have plenty of time for women once I was making six figures, anyway.
In the end, I ended up going to the University of Nevada to do a Computer Science degree. It was local, it was affordable, and it had girls. Mostly, it was a formality, since I was planning on running my own company until one of the bigs took notice and picked me up. Besides, it was where most of my other nerd friends were going. We nerds, we're like a pack. And the alpha always sticks with the pack.
So, anyway, I get to university, and it's pretty cool. There's beer, parties, women, and then there's me who's not getting into any of that stuff. Frankly I never saw what was so tempting about brain damage, hearing loss and cooties. Well, okay, I might've gone to one or two parties, but frankly beer tastes funny, and getting puked on by this one chick turned me off of the idea of meeting my life partner at one. So, it was back to hanging out with the old home crew. Counterstrike, D&D, hacking the school network just to say we could. Thems were the days. Eventually, though, I figured I should start getting out and meeting new people. That's when this guy invited me to join this club. They called it the Guild of the Avatars of Gaia. I thought, "Damn, that's the most hardcore roleplaying group I've heard of." Ha ha ha. Little did I know…
I guess the night I joined was like most frat initiation nights. I showed up at this house where it was all candle-lit, and there were a bunch of guys standing around wearing hooded robes. I figured it was all a big joke, or, like I said, one of the best LARP sessions I'd ever seen. The guy who'd invited me there started introducing me to them. "This is Eagle, this is Horse, this is Owl, this is Bear. We will soon find out what your name is to be."
Smartass that I am, my reply was "Well, actually, I've already got a name. But, then again, if you guys can come up with something with a bit of a masculine ring to it, then I…" I could tell by their expressions that they were not amused, so I decided to shut my yap and let the crazy cult leader do the talking.
"We do not choose your name. Your name chooses you. It is our part to see that you are consecrated to be chosen and that, when the time comes, you will be ready."
Obviously at this point my creep-o-meter was flashing somewhere in the 'Get the hell outta here' zone, but then suddenly it was like I was in the club. Everybody took off their hoods, they started talking about normal stuff, and pretty soon we were all having a rollicking game of D&D. At least, I had thought it was D&D. Turns out it was more like tactical training.
As time went on, I started to get to know the guys a bit better, I realised they were actually pretty aptly nicknamed. Bear was a linebacker who could bench press a ton, Eagle could spot a hottie from a mile away, and Horse liked to go outside and run around in broad circles. We were what you might call an eclectic bunch.
Still, I had to wonder at the group's reason for being. And moreso at the reason for their stupid name. I mean, it sounded pretty anime fanboi to me, but I once made an "It's over 9000!" joke and all they did was look at me funny. So I googled it. Nothin'. They didn't even have a website. So, I thought, "Hey, I'll design one for them! It'd be a way to establish myself as one of the guys and bring in some new members." But when I brought the idea up at one of our meetings, I got another one of those "Whither hast thy tongue tread, o heathen?" looks. But that time, it didn't end there. That time, I was gonna find out what it was all about.
It would be a night to remember.
DUN DUN DUN.
How often have you had something completely unexpected happen to you? For most people, it's not very often. I guess the same's true for me. Especially after seeing the ugliest sonofabitch you've ever seen jump through a window and rip out your friend's throat with his teeth. Seeing your other friends suddenly sprout swords and axes and kill the damn thing without so much as a blink (or saving you some drycleaning bills by kindly allowing you to get clear of the splatter radius) is another one of those things that makes you stop and go 'Huh.'
Even though the thing was beheaded in only a minute or so - hard to judge time in those situations - it was too late for Horse. His throat was just… gone. The downside of having a photographic memory is that you just don't let go of those images.
It took some talking to get me down from my denial cloud. Truth was, all of the guys were pretty freaked out, they just all had this fighting instinct that kinda overrode that. I tend to think most people who go through that kind of thing would leave and never look back. They'd probably spend a lot of time in therapy. Or a mental institution. But I couldn't. My friend was dead and all I could do was sit there. I guess I kinda swore to myself that I'd never let that happen again. so when the guys told me I had reached the point of no return, and I could either leave and forget anything had ever happened, or I could stay and learn the truth… well, for me, it wasn't really a choice. Stupid photographic memory.
It was decided that night that it was time I found my new name. There was this whole ritual thing they had to do, and then by the end of the night, the animal that was supposed to be me would present itself.
Did I ever mention that karma hates me? Well, here's some advice from a certified genius. If you're gonna do a totemic binding ritual, don't then go home and feed your pet rat. Oh, yeah. I'm sure you've guessed it. I could've had a pet spider, or a pet dog, or maybe a pet alligator. Hey, they've had stranger things in Vegas. But no, apparently humiliation is God's way of thwarting the egos of the gifted.
Waking up the next day was the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. It was like the biggest hangover combined with the most insane caffeine rush ever. And the smells… I could smell -everything.- And lemme tell ya, everything is not worth smelling. And then there was an overwhelming urge to eat cheese. No, I kid you not. It's the first thing that tipped me off to what exactly had happened. I was in denial all the way until I got back to the others and told them what was up.
The consensus was unanimous. I was the avatar of Rat. The guys acted all cool about it, but I could tell they were all trying not to laugh. Oh, well. I guess everybody needed a laugh. If it was to be a laugh at my expense, whatever. To tell the truth, I had never felt so alive. So aware of my surroundings. So… hungry.
From then on, it was a whole new life. I still had my classwork, and my programming projects, and the occasional D&D all-nighter, but now I had this whole new purpose. I wasn't stronger, but I was more resilient, and damn, was I fast. I earned my black belt, and I learned how to use a real crossbow. They're a lot trickier than you'd think.
And I learned how to hunt. That was a little embarrassing starting out. It turns out that putting a stake through somebody's heart, ex-human or not, actually takes quite a bit of arm strength. I've been working on that, and I'm not quite the wuss I was at the time, but still, if somebody had warned me that I was going to be something besides a desk jockey in my lifetime, I might've done a pushup every now and then.
Eventually, the time came to graduate. It kinda hit me like a brick wall. A brick wall that fights dirty. I hadn't really been putting out feelers for a place to start a career. I guess I forgot to be a millionaire playboy with dead rich parents before I chose to become a crimefighter. If chose is the right word. Anyway, we all agreed that those of us who were graduating should split up and cover whatever territory we could in our new careers. My territory turned out to be a cheap apartment in downtown Vegas, where I did consulting work. Things seemed kinda quiet. Most nights I only had Ben to keep me company. Then that changed one night in June of 2007. It was the night I met the girl of my dreams.
DUN DUN DUN.
The evening began with me waking up and turning on my computer. I was wearing my Spongebob pajamas, and… actually, I think I'll just skip the pathetic parts. Six hours later, I was done with my work for the day and out of coffee. I knew I needed to do some hunting, so I decided to patrol in the general direction of the nearest diner. The trouble was that most of them were closed. However, my keen rat-like nose picked up the scent of java from The Sunset Diner several blocks away, and I made my way there on my motorbike.
When I arrived on the scene, I saw this lone waitress inside serving coffee to a bunch of guys. One of whom was looming over her, and looking very much not like a friendly person. I shouted a warning at her, and she turned around just in the nick of time. Turns out they were vampires, numbering five in all. I won't go into all the details of the ensuing fight, but suffice to say that while I did most of the dusting, she turned out to be quite the fighter herself. I could tell she hadn't dealt with vampires before, but hey, when a lady throws a guy through a glass window, you know she's not your average everyday coffee girl.
The Sunset got pretty messed up during the fight, and there wasn't any evidence to support us saying what really happened, so when the sirens start coming, the girl and I rode away on my trusty red scooter. I had saved my first D.I.D. - that's damsel in distress, for those not in the know. Okay, so she had probably mostly saved herself, but I totally helped. I took her back to apartment so I could have a pow-wow with her about where she got her powers from. I knew about the mass Slayer activation - practically everybody in the technopagan community was blogging about it - and, well, Nicole showed all the signs. So I decided that I would take her on as my sidekick. After all, I figured it was the most viable way for me to approach her with the idea of wearing a spandex bustier in the near future.
Truth be told, I knew that with a little training, Nicole would be more of a fighter than I ever was. Frankly, I was kinda jealous. But I got over it. And I did my best to train her, and it wasn't long before I started taking her patrolling with me. It just felt weird, me being the guy and her being the one to carry the axe around while I toted the crossbow. But it was also kinda hot, watching her hack into some demon's chest cavity in a spray of green goo… actually, creepy might be a better word for it.
So, anyway, we were hitting it off great. She didn't treat me like some creepy guy with a cheese fetish and rat-like tendencies. She treated me like a human being. Eventually, her roommate ditched her for her boyfriend, so I offered in my usual suave and debonair manner to let her sleep in my bed. Whilst I slept on the couch. Apparently she doesn't really think of me as a guy in the anatomical sense, 'cause she said yes. I decided to play it cool, and it's been great. Even if I would much rather be sharing the Superman sheets than leasing them out.
So, what's in a name?
The thing about names is, you can't choose yours. Well, okay, you can, but unless you're a rock musician, it's not gonna do anything for you. Who you are isn't what people call you, or how people see you. It's what you believe in, what you do, and everything that goes along with that. I guess at the end of the day, you're the only one you have to be cool with. At least that's the philosophy I'm working on. And being cool with me means protecting the people you care about. Still, a statue someplace nice would be cool.
The point is, as far as I'm concerned, there's not a whole hell of a lot in a name. Just because my name is Blaine doesn't mean I'm skinny; the fact that I'm skinny means I'm skinny. And the fact that I happen to have a fondness for cheesy chips and a resilience to disease and poison isn't because… well… okay, so maybe there is a little bit to this name thing. Who asked you anyway? Me? Bah.
Ratman… away!
Logs
Night of the Undead co-starring Nicole, Rose, Marja, and David - Blaine's first on-camera patrol scene, involving the notorious Mary Sue.
Sadistic Superheroes co-starring Nicole, Victor, and Maxwell - Ratman as a supervillain!
