Sparro

Sparro

The Edge as Kyle Sparro

Name:	Kyle Sparro
Alias:	Birdman
Age:	45
Hair & Eyes:	Brown hair and eyes
Faction:	Air Wing
Position:	Raptor Pilot Lt.
Colony:	Gemenon
Play Times:	Evening
Timezone:	EST

Biographical Info

History

Born to an extremely religious family on Gemenon, Sparro grew up knowing that the only true way to serve the Gods was by joining the Fleet, a lesson taught by his cruelly authoritarian Grandfather. He learned the lesson so well, in fact, that when he walked out to enlist, he never set foot in his old home again.

Family

Alexander Sparro (Grandfather, out of contact, believed deceased)
Andros Sparro (Father, died fighting in the Cylon war)
Martina Sparro (Mother, out of contact, believed deceased)

Education

Whatever he could scrap up in the fleet. Graduate of the Gemenese flight academy.

Reputation (or Mil. Service)

Sparro's reputation is highly pockmarked. He is known as an extremely capable Raptor pilot but with him comes a long line of black checks on his record, usually timed right around when people started talking promotion.

Distinguishing Features

Sparro is older than most pilots, and most definitely looks it.

Trivia

On a lark, Sparro bought a guitar while on leave after his first tour, and has plucked away at it ever since. He's gotten pretty good.
Those who know him pretty well suspect that the numerous black marks on his record got their on purpose… that Sparro is simply evading a desk job by any means necessary.

Skills

He can fly. He can fight. He can even crow, pretty well.

On the Grid

Known Associates

Mugshot	The Skinny
	Captain Althea "Black Cat" Legacy. Ol' Black Cat? I remember when she was just a nugget. Now look at her… finest Raptor pilot around. Thea's got a good head on her, bummer about her taste in boys, though. She is closer to me than family, and the one person who can pull me back from the brink when I decide to jump over it.
	Captain Karim Aiteru "Spider" Marek. It's no secret that the CAG and I don't get on. Don't get me wrong, he's a fine Viper pilot and a better than fair CAG. But his history with Thea will always leave him with a black mark in my book, and recently he has given me more personal reasons to distrust him, but those are between him and me, get it? Not too long ago, Thea made me promise to take care of him if anything happened to her. Not sure what she meant by that, but for that reason alone I would pray to the Lords that I buy it first.
	Lieutenant Castor "Shepherd" Leda. Shepherd and I didn't hit it off so well… our first real interaction came after he caught me sleeping with his ex. Kinda put a dark spin on the meeting. We've patched things up since but he often worries me… I've never seen a student of the school of hard knocks so unwilling to learn the lessons it teaches.
	Lieutenant JG Kitty "Crybaby" Ajitai. Darn fine pilot, darn fine person, and as it happens, natural redhead. Don't ask. In many ways, Kitty reminds me of a younger Black Cat, and if you tell the captain I said that, something bad will happen to you. If I was a big brother to Thea, I am like an overprotective uncle to Kitty. But if she ever needs help, I'll be there to give it to her.
	Lieutenant JG Anton "Thorn" Komnenos. Thorn is my bear, and and a damned good one. While I make the Raptor dance, he makes it's jamming signals sing, and with a performance like that the Vipers are all but unstoppable. The fact that the CAG so often turns a pairing like Thorn and I into a glorified taxi service for his Vipers that screwed the pooch is one of my problems with him. If Thorn and I were out there to start with, we wouldn't be burying so many pilots.
	Lieutenant JG Kisseus "Madman" Heathrow Matto. There are a lot of very talented Ghostriders. But when Legacy is grounded for some reason, it is usually either Madman or myself behind the Raptor stick, and he is one of a very select few Raptor jocks I don't second guess. In a way, Matto is responsible for my new understanding with Thea… he helped us put our past behind us and move on. I just hope the day comes when I can thank him for that.

Timeline of Events

Disclaimer

The following stories are snapshots of Kyle's life. Some people know the general idea, none know all the details, ICly.

Childhood

Kyle knew it was going to be a bad night two minutes into the daily exhortation.

The Priest, scarred and tattooed, stood before his flock, arms spread out in the air, and recounted for them the battle of Nereid Belt during the Cylon War. His eyes flashed in brilliant fervor as he described his platoon of Marines, formally Gemenese but now COLONIALS, stalking the mines of the asteroids as wave after wave of Centurions hit them, desperate to secure the precious Tylium for themselves. Blood, carnage, glory… honor to the Gods. His own mask, smashed out by a robotic fist, leading to the scars the man bore to this day, left unconscious and bleeding on the floor.

Kyle's head didn't move, but his eyes desperately watched as his Grandfather ate up the exhortation, gnarled old hands tightening into a fist at his side, labored breathing quickening. “Sit up straight, boy…” the old man growled under his breath. “Even a runt like you should be able to sit at proper attention.”

Kyle tried to sit straighter, though his back was already aching from sitting ramrod stiff through the entire ceremony. He was easily the youngest there. His twelve year old form looked quite different from the other “younglings,” most of them young men and women a year or so away from being old enough to enlist in Colonial service. One of the priests had spoken with his grandfather about bringing one so young, to which the old man had insisted that Kyle needed the “fire of Ares poured through his veins” if he was ever to amount to anything.

Not that he ever drank the Fire of Ares… the chief elder had been firm on that. The beverage was reserved only for those about to take their first steps into their true calling, and no matter how intense the military camps Kyle was sent to, none of them counted. “Not until the bullets are real…” the scarred Priest had ruled, and it had been one of the few times Kyle had ever seen his grandfather back down from anything.

For himself, he had been relieved at the ruling. The drink bubbled and gave off a strange smoke, and the looks of pain on the peoples faces when they drank it had been pretty scary for a boy of 8, and the four years that had passed since hadn't changed his attitude. For now, he simply sat as straight as he could, and waited for the explosion that would follow the services. He didn't have to wait long.

“He is weak, a runt, a pathetic creature. To think that such a thing could be born from such a hero as his father…” The old man was already fairly gone to drink, and once again was shouting at Kyle's mother, which was always how such nights started. Early on, Kyle had been fiercely afraid that the old man would kill her one day… he often gave himself reasons to do so, in his ranting.

“It barely seems possible that Lord Ares would place such an insult upon so great a man. Makes me wonder if you stayed properly true to my son, girl. I seem to remember a Caprican Dandy who was here during the war, one of those damned politicians wasting time with words and speeches when there was fighting to be done.”

As always, Kyle's mother simply let the tirade wash over her, calmly cleaning the dishes from the evening meal. The “Caprican Dandy” was often mentioned in these drunken rants, and Kyle had done some research. The emissaries from Caprica had secured Gemenon's participation in the Articles of Colonization, the last of the colonies to join, considered by many to be a turning point in the Cylon war. In most households, those delegates were heroes.

“You might have done that, mightn't you, while my boy was out fighting to protect your sorry hide. In comes the Caprican Dandy, with his Caprican words and Caprican ways, and your whore's thighs probably started spreading right there.”

The faucet turned off, the last dish was dried, and she walked away. She would be crying for at least an hour tonight, but without going into her room, you would never know. Kyle had often seen her holding the picture of his father, taken right before he shipped out on the mission that would take his life, a mission to the Nereid Belt. She had loved his father… he was sure of that.

It was only unfortunate that she loved neither Kyle nor herself enough to take them out of the hell they were currently living in.

“There you are…” the old drunk snarled, staggering into the living room. “Stand up straight, boy. Like a soldier. You can't help how blasted skinny you are but you can take every millimeter of height the gods gave you. Lords know they didn't spare you much.” He moved forward with the too careful steps of a drunk, spittle forming on his lips as he spoke. “Did you do your lessons, boy?”

Kyle saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“I'll just bet you did, runt. Tell me then, what is our highest calling?”

The rote came to Kyle's lips easily… it had been the first thing he had ever learned at the ceremonies his Grandfather took him to, and learned with the belt. “Our highest calling is to fight, and die, in service to Ares.”

The old man nodded savagely. “Your father fought and died, boy. And I thank the Gods he did, and never had to see what a runt his son would be, or what a whore his wife would be.”

Kyle tried to stay motionless. He truly did… it was military discipline and a survival tool, besides. But something must have twitched enough for the drunk old man to notice. The wrinkled, jaundiced face leaned forward. “You have something to say, runt? You think your father would not have been ashamed of you, or killed your mother as would have been his right?”

Kyle knew the answer to those questions. He shook his head. The old man smiled. “Then what did you have to say, then? Out with it, runt, lest you be a coward as well as a weakling.”

“I was merely thinking, sir…” Kyle's eyes widened slightly as the words came out, unable to believe the words he was uttering, “How ashamed my father must be when he looks down at us. My mother, so soft and quiet, myself, so small and weak.” He paused. “And his own father, an drunk who never served the highest calling.”

The blow came as he knew it would, and Kyle was hurled backwards into the wall, the taste of blood already on his tongue. He knew that taste well. His eyes went back to his grandfather, who was staring pure murder at him. For a moment, Kyle thought the old man would finish it… instead, he stalked off to
the den, likely to drink more.

That night, his mother came to him and put ice on the bruises, never speaking, merely doing her part to treat his injuries. Kyle accepted her ministrations but otherwise remained silent as well. For his part, he could not wait until he was old enough to enlist, even if it meant drinking the Fire of Ares. Service in the military might have been his path to salvation… but it was also his ticket off out of this house.

Quotes

"It was in self defense, sir. He tried to stick Captain's bars to me, so I knocked him the frak out."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with me that a bottle of Aquarian rum couldn't make worse."

"I was flying a Raptor that fateful night when your Dad got your Mom drunk. The view was spectacular. Too bad the outcome was so disappointing."

"When you know someone who has made every godsdamned mistake that can be made without getting themselves killed, it is usually worthwhile to listen to their advice, unless you find yourself more intent than usual on becoming like them. Old, lonely, and bitter. Think about it, kids. It's amazing how much 'not my type' someone can put up with if they are with someone who makes them feel good about themselves."

Misc

Likes

• Stars and a bird to fly through them.
• A cold bottle of booze and a girl to share it with.
• A tuned guitar and quiet room to play to.

Dislikes

• My Granddad. Long story.
• Captain stripes. They're fine on you, sir, but keep 'em off me, please.

Seeking

• I used to think that the only way to know you were alive was to be flying. Now, I think there may be more, and heavens help me when I start to pursue it…

Gallery