Real name: Richard Milhouse Jones
Occupation: Musician. Also works at the Book & Bean in
Greenwich Village
Identity: Public
Legal status: US Citizen, no criminal record. Except for that
time he got caught streaking.
Other aliases: Occassionally referred to as Mr. Jones.
Place of birth: Upstate New York
Marital status: Single
Known relatives: Mother, father, grandparents, aunts and
uncles. No one knows about the twin brother yet!
Group affiliation: Communist sympathisers
Base of operations: Hell's Kitchen, New York
First appearance: November, 2000
History:
Rick was born to a pair of rigid Republicans in upstate New York. They attempted to put limits on everything he did. He had a 10 o'clock curfew even when he was seventeen. They were good folks, just suffocating in their conservatism. Rick rebelled against them early and often. Could there be a worse curse than to name your son after a corrupt public figure? Rick never cared for being called Richard, and he never let anyone know his middle name was Milhouse. When asked about his middle name he would lie and say it stood for Martin. Though years later, that would make him Ricky Martin. There just was no escaping the disgrace.
When Rick was seven, his uncle bought him a guitar. Uncle Frank was one of those cool Uncle's who always bought you candy and crap your parents would never let you have. Rick fell in love with the guitar from the moment he first held it. He played it every night. His parents thought it was a passing hobby, something for him to cherish in his youth but abandon when he went to college to become a doctor, lawyer, or nuclear physicist. Rick never gave it up.
He took private lessons and practiced every day. It was only a few weeks before he had written his first song, called "Noise". It was appropriately titled.
Rick lived a relatively nice life. His parent's didn't beat him or hate him or fear him. They just couldn't understand him. They were strict, but not totalitarians. Rick rebelled every chance he could.
It wasn't that he hated his parents. He had to rebel. Sure, his parents gave him a roof over his head and food on his plate. They had raised him. But he had also been raised by Dylan, The Stones, The Boss, Zeppelin, Nirvana, and Hendrix. And his parents represented everything they talked against. They were semi-wealthy white conservative Christian Republicans. When you said the man was keeping you down, you were talking about Rick's parents.
Rick wore torn jeans, grew his hair long, played his music loud, snuck out of the house and stayed out all night, snuck girls into his bedroom, partied, protested, and refused to follow the path his parents tried to lead him to.
He moved out when he was seventeen, against his parent's wishes. He stayed in high school to finish his senior year, but he'd decided his parents rules just weren't for him. He still came around for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and he still borrowed money from his mother from time to time. Were they disappointed he wasn't planning on attending college? Yes. Were they upset he moved out of their house and in with a college freshman girl? Oh yeah. But he was still their son, and they would always love him.
Once Rick was out of his parent's house, he really began to live life. He found his own identity. He worked various horrid jobs to make ends meet, but never gave up his dream of being a rock star. He began playing in clubs and at cafes.
Rick has gone from a series of apartments and a series of girlfriends the past six years. He's had a few long relationships, but hasn't really found a true love yet. Still, to him, every breakup is a heart break and a chance to write more songs. Since moving from his parents house, Rick has narrowly escaped death twice.
The first time was two and a half years ago. Rick was stocking up on Twinkies and crumb donuts at the local Quick-E-Mart when two men with guns held the place up. There was Rick, caught in the middle, arms overloaded with snack treats. "Hey, I was next in line." Sure, it was a clever thing to say, but it got a gun pointed at him by one pissed off young man. Rick would have died then and there if another customer in the store hadn't tackled the guy. The gunshot went off, the bullet missing Rick's head by only an inch and imbedding itself in a loaf of Wonderbread. The robbers panicked and fled and Rick thanked his savior-an attractive young woman. He moved in with her one week later.
The second time, he was also saved by a woman. Four months ago, Rick was crossing the street when he noticed a girl pass by heading the opposite way. She was a breathtaking beauty. One of those girls you take one look at and begin plotting your life history with. He turned, stopping in the middle of the crosswalk to get a nice look at her.
At the same time, a car chase was coming towards its conclusion. Three crooks in their Chevelle blew out a tire turning a corner, hit a curb and flew into the air, flipping over and landing on their top, sliding several yards to a stop. Had Rick kept walking, the car would have gone right through him. As it was, he turned back around in time to see it shoot past him before hitting the ground.
Rick is 23, living in a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen. He works three jobs: at the Book and Bean, the NYU bookstore, and the Black Cat, as a bartender. He plays gigs from time to time and is currently contemplating attending college.
Height: 5'11" Weight: 170 lbs.
Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown
Unusual physical characteristics: None that are visible.
Strength level: Can crush empty coke cans like nobody's
business!
Known superhuman powers: What are these... super powers...
you speak of?
Other abilities: Rick is a musician. He can play guitar
and piano and can sing.
Weapons and paraphernalia: He's not a particularly good
driver so he might accidentally run over you with his jeep.
Other notes: "Better to burn out than fade away..." -- Neil
Young