General Application

[abstruse]

Mun

Name: AnNika
Personal Journal: bread
E-mail: anime_leet (at) hotmail (dot) com
AIM/MSN: (AIM) Maypie Lord

Character

Name: Clive Dove
Fandom: Professor Layton
Gender: Male
Age: Canonly unstated; 23 is the most common
Time Period: End-Game
History: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Professor_Layton_and_the_Unwound_Future
luceti
Wing Color: White from behind; gray fading to black on the inside
discedo
What items will they be bringing with them to Discedo? Clothes, Hat, a messenger bag, puzzle things, handcuffs

Personality:

Clive is a young man with a master-plan, although he just skimmed by success; perhaps for the better of himself, and for London. He can maintain a strong gentlemanly disposition, and is an excellent puzzle solver, but he's got a seed of evil planted deep inside of him that's been growing for years now. Explaining his past comes first, in order to understand his future.

At about the age of ten, Clive tragically lost his parents in a fiery explosion, and was left completely homeless. The explosion itself was, as he came to learn later, the cause of political greed and scientific foolishness--or, rather, the failed attempt to Time Travel. Layton was the one to stop him from going into the burning building, which would have killed in the process. In time, Clive was adopted by Constance Dove, a kind old lady with a HUGE fortune to her name. When she passed, only a few short years later, Clive inherited this fortune, along with becoming a newspaper reporter. He dedicated his time as a reporter investigating the explosion, undercover from all others. Once finding the scientists behind the explosion, he vowed revenge.

Well, it wasn't revenge in his book. Clive labeled his 'pay-back' as justice. To rid the world of corrupt politicians and scientists. He did it out of love for his parents. It's justifiable, if you look over how many people he wanted to kill! And how many he did!!

Thus, Clive's main goal was justice, and truly wanted to make a better world. He used his cunning skills of deception to convince his own enemy, Dimitri, into believing that they were allies, determined to complete the same goals, and through him, convinced an entire city they were ten WHOLE years into the future. Confusing? It's unexplained how he managed such a massive task. Still, it was managed, and Clive held only a role in the shadows, keeping even his biggest plot hidden even from Dimitri.

He also deceived Luke and Layton, the heroes of the game, into thinking that he was, in fact, little Luke ten years into the future!! It was a convincing ruse, and even Layton himself was fooled to some extent (though the holes in Clive's plan always showed through). Luke and Flora were completely deceived up until the final revelation.

All bad? I think not! Clive was still a gentleman, and with the Professor and Luke, maintained this disposition very effectively. Once he forgets, nearly speeding by a man in need, until corrected by Luke. He again complies to his intended disguise and helps. Later he admits to Layton that he deeply enjoyed his time with Layton, even forgetting that he had something much bigger in mind, one that was falling apart as he continued to help Professor Layton to 'unwound' the future. His courtesy towards Flora always held true, and his patience with little Luke remained true.

He still goes through with his plan, flipping his lid and going batshit on London, busting out a goddamn mecha and kicking all the ass. Well, until his ass gets kicked. Defeated and on his way to jail, Layton asks why Clive allowed him to be dragged into Clive scheme. Clive knew that Layton would unravel his plans in a matter of days, and Layton knew this. Clive, downhearted, theorizes he did it for that very reason: that Layton might stop him, just as Layton had stopped ten years ago when he lost his parents. He swears then to turn over a new leaf, thanks to the Professor.

Clive, as a result of the events of the Unwound Future, mellows out considerably as a character. As he promises to Layton, it becomes his decision to rid himself of his dark side and looks to find a better person within him. However redeeming this may sound, there are still a love of pent up emotions inside of Clive. Because of this, Clive’s stability between good and evil is extremely weak, and could easily fall down the wrong path again with just the right push. As a result, he often seems very dubious in nature, neither a gentleman nor a criminal.

luceti
Strengths: Clive's strongest point is his brain and his words. A lot of what makes Clive such a BAD GUY in the game is because he's so damn MANIPULATIVE. Take for example: Dimitri. He was a desperate man, trying to find a way to fix his mistake and bring back the love of his life (Claire). Clive used his resources as a journalist to FIND Dimitri, and then played off of Dimitri's need for scientists to find and collect scientists of his own to work on the mecha. MORE THAN THAT! Clive some how managed to trick a whole city's population into believing that ten years had somehow passed, thus legitimizing Future London. AND He's a master of deception. For the most part, he wouldn't ABUSE this power, but he may use it to win over friends and allies.

Weaknesses: Clive is a wimp to the 10th degree. If you take a good look at him, he lacks all brawn. He couldn't throw a ball ten feet if he wanted to. Part of this is just looking at him, but in canon he does get slapped around a little by Bostro. At the very least, he has enough brawn to kidnap Flora. He seems to also have an emotional weakness to people who are generallt kind.

There's also the instability of being a liar--nobody can lie forever. Consequently, though he's technically TRYING to become a gentleman at this time point, he will still deceive people in order to make himself look more 'gentlemanly', which might include conceiling his past from those around him.

Samples
First Person:

((Audio))
Hello? Ah, here we are! Clive speaking. I was just wondering if anybody would like to try a puzzle challenge with me. It can get awfully droll here, and I was hoping perhaps a good opponent. It may keep my mind a little occupied. Naturally I'll provide the same for whoever may answer; perhaps give me an idea of your puzzling preference?

And well, for anyone else who doesn’t know enough puzzles for a challenge, why not one simple one for everyone to start off?

Puzzle 000: Four of a Kind
In two decks of cards, what is the least amount of cards you must take to be guaranteed at least one four-of-a-kind?

While you are all pondering that, I suppose I'll begin exploring things a little more around here. Other than that... Luke, I would like to speak with you in person at some point. Thank you for your time!

Third Person:
Canon-verse

Tick-tock tick-tock, Big Ben never seemed so loud until now.

Puzzle 000 : I'm supposed to meet a friend of mine at 10:00 today, but it seems there's a problem. I think that my clock is ten minutes slow, when it's really ten minutes fast. My friend's thinks his watch is ten minutes fast, but... it's...

Clive narrows his eyes, twiddling his thumbs as he waits for Chelmey to again take his arm and lead him along. The officer was busy with other hellish problems, trying to comfort those with lost ones, as well as amend the damage that Clive had caused. Even the useless puzzles Clive attempted to design in his head were no use for distraction. What had happened here was devastating, and standing inside London, looking at all which he had destroyed, made him remember the destruction of his own home. How he'd lost his parents.

He hated himself faster than his brain cells could even pulse the anger throughout his body. He even unwittingly growled at himself.

"Is everything alright, Mr Clive?"

Clive glanced to his right, remembering that Barton was left to keep a watch on him. "Make sure that criminal doesn't try to fly the coop, will you, Barton!" Chelmey's words were still thick in the air, much like the dust in the sky above.

"No, everything isn't alright, Barton, but your concern is appreciated."

Barton wiggled his little moustache, and again looked away from Clive. Clive could only frown and watch as Chelmey returned again.

"Barton! Don't associate with the enemy, he's trouble that one."

"Yes sir! Sorry, sir! Come on Mr Clive."

Clive waited a moment, feeling the tug from Barton. His eyes laid on the destruction just a moment longer. He had stooped as low as the people he'd hated. He was the people he hated. "Mr Clive?"

"Yes? Oh, sorry. I'm coming."

luceti-verse

Clive groans, rubbing his eyes and stretching out. He felt tired, sore. His head hurt and it was no surprise. He guesses with reluctance that it could be a concussion… but that wasn’t his immediate concern. A cool breeze chills his breast; that was out of place. He sits up, running his fingers through his hair and scratching his head, his hair spiking up in back and bangs finding their place once more. A sleepy stare takes in the scene before him.

No, this definitely wasn’t where he’d fallen asleep. Then again, when did he fall asleep? “Confoun..”

As he thinks longer, more things seemed out of place. These are not his own pants—his chest is bare—something behind him is out of place. Approach it one step at a time, Clive… It’s not that hard. With eyes wide, he turns around and looks behind him, adjusting his gaze down. Feathers—the longest pause of his life followed, processing what is behind him. His eyes barely see the colourless feathers, so confused and shocked by what he was seeing.

Clive had never believed in the afterlife, even when he wanted to. His parents were dead. Dead is dead. He wasn't dead.

He blinks hard, shaking his head hard and dismissing the thought entirely. No, he isn’t dead. He hadn’t done anything to die, naturally! Something was out of place. He thinks it through, sitting and scratching his nose, his elbow tucked into his hand. The wings behind him flutter as he thinks, and he lets out a little snort.

“Funny. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. I wonder what it was that transpired since Chelmey took me away.” Clive looks around, spotting a small book in his wake. “Quaint little thing,” he remarks as he flips through the pages.