Lieutenant Dak "Backfire" Kairos
James Denton (just imagine him younger)
James Denton (just imagine him younger) as Dak Kairos
Name: Dak Kairos
Alias: Backfire
Age: 28
Hair & Eyes: Brown hair, ice blue eyes
Faction: Air Wing
Position: Raptor Pilot
Colony: Caprica
Play Times: varies
Timezone: Pacific

Biographical Info


All right. Fine. You want to know about my history? I'll give it to ya. Mostly because Command is making me go over this for the dossier and not because I like you. I really don't like you, by the way. So where do you want me to start? Childhood? Well of course you do, that's always the logical point of origin for these things since that's where it all began. Stop looking at me like that.

I'm from Caprica. No, I wasn't rich, I wasn't poor. I was normal - thank the gods. I can't stand those hoity-toity folks, you know? And I've always had half a mind to run over a bum or two on the downtown east side. Oh. Uh, scratch that from the record. Anyway, I was a kid. I played quite a few sports and kept on top of my work, but I had this uncle. He was a divemaster, and taught me how to scuba dive … probably the coolest thing I ever did and will probably never do again thanks to all that's transpired. I was also into rock climbing but not quite as much. That's why I'm so physically fit, though. Anyway, scuba diving was pretty much my passion. Though when I saw the recruitment commercials for the Colonial military, they had a guy in an EVA suit waving to the camera while working on … well, working on SOMETHING. I didn't really care at the time.

But I'm not done with my childhood, yet. I was pretty okay in school, too. I got into a few fights though, so as punishment they made me join debate club to teach me the value of talking shit out. And straight up? They did, and it worked. Thing is, now I tend to use sharp wit and a passive aggressive attitude as a result whenever I'm mad at someone. Better than cleaning their clock, I guess. Whatever.

I went to school, started studying marine biology. Wanted to turn my passion into a career, you know. I always liked looking at the teeming wildlife in the depths of the ocean, right? I kind of struggled a bit with it though, mostly due to the fact that I don't really try all that hard to do my homework and stuff. I barely graduated. It actually turns out any job branching from that particular path is less fun than I anticipated it to be. I craved adventure and excitement, not studies and paperwork. Good god, I can't believe it took me that long to figure it out; that it's all about the fun. So what was fun and exciting, you ask?

So I caved and asked for a transfer. Then I had to go through the worst part of my life: OCS. Gods dammit, I have the hardest time breaking away from my abrasive personality. Yeah. So. That happened. I made it through, however my reputation for being a little unprofessional would never leave me. Believe me. If you read the comm logs, you'll see. It's not like I don't follow orders, though.

There was an incident during one PT with the pilots that has never left me - mostly because my callsign won't allow it to. I had a lot of refried beans the other day, and we were made to do a few bench presses. Well, I was given an especially heavy set of weights to push. Upon my first rep, a hot stream of fresh flatulence ejected from my ass, audible to the entire gym. I think the officer in the room called a biohazard evacuation and sealed the hatchway with only me left inside. Now, as a tradition, no one ever flies on my six, and it is said that if a Raider finds its way to that position then it will be so disoriented that it will not be able to fire straight. It is said that any pilot who is unfortunate enough to be towed by my Raptor, they will pass out and wake up in the infirmary. I'm not saying if these stories are true or not.

I suppose it would be kind of useless to say that I was assigned to Hestia after being bounced around a bit. I've got a bit of experience. Maybe I could lead the wing one day when I'm older (Hahaha). There's quite a bit of old folks on this ship and it kinda scares me.

Oh. The Holocaust and how it affected me? Psht. I joined the military because I didn't care for anything else but myself. I didn't leave anything behind. My parents kicked the bucket of old age before PHD. I didn't have any siblings. My uncle was killed from DCS, ironically enough. I'm done. You're done. Get outta here.



Reputation (or Mil. Service)

Distinguishing Features



On the Grid

Known Associates

Mugshot The Skinny
Moon Buggy. Shares cigs with me. Punched me in the face for saying something, but it actually turns out she likes me more for it. Some chicks are so strange. My girlfriend now, I think.
Perky. New ECO to replace Smalls? We'll see. She's cuter and quieter. A candidate for being my girlfriend, but eventually she lost out. We kind of clash these days.
Poet. Pretty cool dude I played a lackluster joke on. I might not be bright enough to understand him all the time, but kinda worth being friendly to, I think.
Sketch. My wingman. I closed the door on her face, but hopefully she doesn't hold grudges.
Mystery Marine. Bitch who raided the head. I'll remember your face, even if it was painted. Not that I'm really that mad at you, but I'll find ya. And do something to ya. I don't know what yet, though.
Shepherd. Almost sold information about Reverie to him. Decided it wasn't worth it, not even for ambrosia.
Smalls. I'll kind of miss you. But I pretend I didn't know you were gone. Not that you're dead or anything, just assigned to another pilot for some dumbass reason.

Timeline of Events

Title Date Summary Other Participants
Log Title PH# What happened in this log. person1, person2 & person3.



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