Jailbird Joe

Jailbird Joe in his work release uniform
Jailbird Joe
Player: @Bastille Boy
Origin:	Science
Archetype:	Tanker
Security Level:	50
Personal Data
Real Name:	Joseph Dell'Orso
Known Aliases:	N/A
Species:	human
Age:	39
Height:	6'0"
Weight:	190
Eye Color:	brown
Hair Color:	brown
Biographical Data
Nationality:	Rogue Isles
Occupation:	Convict Laborer
Place of Birth:	Marconeville, Port Oakes
Base of Operations:	Cellblock A, Port Oakes Penitentiary
Marital Status:	Single
Known Relatives:	Large family, not in touch with any of them
Known Powers
Willpower, Super Strength
Known Abilities
Graphite drawing, agricultural science, classical music literacy
Equipment
Work release uniform
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Joseph Dell'Orso, a.k.a. "Jailbird Joe," is a lifer at the Port Oakes Penitentiary, a prison farm loosely affiliated with the Rogue Island Police.

The corruptional officers regard Joe as a model inmate. He obeys orders and follows rules to the letter. He works diligently on the farm and in the laundry. He earned a G.E.D. and a college degree while incarcerated. He regularly leaves the grounds of the Pen, beats up armed villains or Longbow, takes their money, and returns to the front gate of the Pen at least 50 minutes before lockdown with the cash stuffed in his left sock, to be discovered during the search.

Joe believes that the Pen's regeneration auras are responsible for his strength and his unusual resilience, and that he will become a weakling if he leaves the Pen for too long. He is mostly not wrong. He is fiercely loyal both to his jailers and to his fellow inmates.

Personality

When not engaged in fisticuffs, Joe is unfailingly polite, except when etiquette conflicts with the rules his jailers have set for him. The sticking point is his cap, which he absolutely refuses to remove. The terms of his work release prohibit him from removing his uniform, and he follows this rule to the letter. When he attends concerts, he sits in the back row to avoid blocking anyone's view.

Joe addresses civilians as as "Mr." or "Ms." unless he is specifically asked to use a first name. He introduces himself by first name only and shares his last name reluctantly.

When people ask why he doesn't run away from prison, despite having many opportunities, he gives a gently joking answer, such as, "I like living in a big house with a yard." A close observer will notice that he finds the question offensive and is trying to conceal his feelings.

Childhood and Origin of his Nickname

Joe was born and raised in the Villa Montrose neighborhood of Port Oakes. His father died when he was nine. When he was twelve, his mother married a Mook underboss who had two sons of his own, one Joe's age, one two years older.

At school, Joe was constantly mocked. He was bookish, and he couldn't catch a ball, and he hated the roughhousing the other Mook boys enjoyed so much. After his mother's remarriage, his stepbrothers made it known that he was a bedwetter. He got called "Four Eyes" and "Pee-Jay Joe." When he started high school, the older boys started calling him another, unprintable word. He asked his mother what that word meant. His stepfather was in the room and said, "It means you're never going to be a man."

Joe took refuge in reading, drawing, and riding his bike in the hills west of Port Oakes, away from the bullies. When he was fifteen, he was riding downhill on a trail and hit a rock that made him take a bad fall and break his knee. He was unable to stand. Lucky for him, he was just half a mile from the perimeter fence of the Port Oakes Pen, and some prisoners at work heard him cry out. Two officers from the prison found Joe and got him down the hill.

The officers fetched one of the prisoners, a former vigilante with a medical degree and X-Ray vision. The amateur physician reported that Joe had fractured a growth plate. If the boy's knee healed improperly, his legs might end up different lengths. Sending him to Black Heart Memorial Hospital would be unwise. It would be safer for him to heal in the regeneration aura in the infirmary.

Joe stayed in the infirmary for a week. He was usually alone with one or two officers, but he was allowed to talk with the prisoners who brought him his meals. They did not seem to Joe like dangerous men. Some of them were former vigilantes who foolishly tried to take on corruption in the Rogue Island Police and had since been tamed. The rest were two-bit crooks who neglected to pay the right bribes.

The prisoners and the officers were different from the men in Joe's neighborhood. They were strong, some of them extraordinarily strong, but there was a softness about them. Maybe it was the effect of the regeneration aura. It felt good, being in that aura. It was soothing.

When Joe woke up in a wet bed his first night, there was no mockery and no judgment. The officer on duty helped him change his sheets and got him a spare, unmarked convict uniform to replace his wet clothes. Looking at himself in the mirror wearing that uniform, Joe felt manly. The stripes made his shoulders look broader, Joe thought. Maybe one day he would be as strong and masculine as the prisoners he'd met. They were all so handsome...

Suddenly Joe understood the slur his schoolmates and his stepbrothers had been calling him. He knew that it was true. And he knew that he needed a new family.

After a week, Joe's knee was deemed well enough to send him home with crutches. Back at Villa Montrose High, the other students had a lot of questions. Joe tried to give monosyllabic answers, but the questions kept coming. Once Joe started talking, he would not shut up. He went on and on about healing auras and strong, gentle guards and prisoners who weren't really criminals and the tame guard wolf he was allowed to pat once. One of Joe's bullies, a Marcone kid, called him "Jailbird." The name stuck.

Arrest and Origin of his Powers

High school was hellish. Joe couldn't wait to graduate and leave Port Oakes for Aeon University. He knew he'd get in. He was a straight A student and a math whiz. In his senior year, Joe got permission to leave school early twice a week so he could take multivariable calculus at Aeon U. It got him out of gym class, and he hoped it would be a taste of his bright future.

In the lecture hall, Joe heard some young Fortunatas whispering behind him. "That's the bedwetter Mook kid," one of them said. At the end of class, Joe stood up and felt a psychic bolt assault his mind. Suddenly his jeans were soaking wet. His classmates saw and laughed. The thuggish men on the Rogue Island Ferry didn't laugh at Joe's misfortune, but they definitely noticed, and some of them decided he'd be an easy target. The next week, on his way home from the ferry terminal, two strange men confronted Joe, beat him up, and took his wallet.

Though Joe was used to bullying, he'd never been beaten up before. He realized his stepfather's men had been protecting him in Villa Montrose. He realized he couldn't count on their protection elsewhere. College would not be an escape for him. He was doomed to be a victim, he thought. There was no safe place in the Rogue Isles for someone like him.

Then Joe remembered the week he spent in a prison infirmary. There was, in fact, a safe place.

On his eighteenth birthday, he put a pair of wire cutters in his pocket and rode his bike into the hills. He biked to the perimeter fence around the farmland attached to the Port Oakes Pen. He waited for dusk, then he scaled the chain link fence, cut the barbed wire on top, and climbed over. He slept between two rows of strawberry plants. At dawn, he approached the prison, hands in the air.

The corruptional officers recognized Joe. No explanation was necessary. The chain gang does not turn down volunteers. Joe signed a statement confessing to trespassing, damaging D.O.C. property, and bringing an instrument of escape onto prison grounds. He was sentenced to three years with the assurance that the release date was only a theory.

No doubt Joe harbored fantasies about it would be like to live in a prison full of strong, handsome men. If he hoped to find a boyfriend quickly, his hopes were dashed. He was the youngest person in his cellblock by five years. The other prisoners regarded him as scarcely more than a child and therefore off limits. It didn't help that he was required to wear waterproof "superhero underwear" to bed.

Though nobody wanted to be Joe's boyfriend, many people wanted to be his friend or his mentor. The Soviet war hero in the cell next to Joe's, who looked 60 but was 80, regaled him with stories about the battle of Stalingrad and escaping the USSR via Finland. The mechanical engineer who'd had a falling out with Dr. Aeon showed Joe the prison library and the small lab where prisoners were trying to build a robot janitor. A youngish Mook and a youngish Marcone, who were, to Joe's astonishment, fast friends, convinced Joe to go with them to the weight room.

It turns out Joe had a talent for lifting. He'd been a terrible athlete in school because he was uncoordinated, but barbell lifting doesn't require quick reflexes. The auras helped Joe's progress. The Soviet war hero in the next cell had a healing aura that was active even in his sleep. When Joe worked in the fields, he was usually in at least two overlapping regeneration auras. The corruptional officers rewarded diligence and obedience with invigorating buffs. Joe got a lot of buffs. All the healing magic effectively gave Joe the benefits of anabolic steroids with none of the risks. He strength grew quickly.

After eighteen months, the warden authorized Joe for work release. Taking assignments outside the Pen wasn't mandatory, and Joe was happy working in the fields with the auras. But one day the warden told Joe that the D.O.C. had received a lucrative offer to help unload a ship. If Joe went with some fellow inmates to work at the docks, supervised by two corruptional officers, the D.O.C. would spend some of the money on new physics books for the library. In case the Fortunatas showed up, Joe could wear "superhero underwear." Joe reluctantly agreed to go.

Down by the docks, a gang approached the work crew. They were armed with bats and chains, and one of them was brandishing a pistol.

"All right ladies, these crates are ours now," said the gunman. "Load 'em into our truck. Get a move on." He pointed the pistol at Joe. "You too, little girl. And pull up your pants. Your diaper's showing." He aimed the gun at the officers. "Get working, you lazy pigs."

Joe was used to being insulted, but hearing the gangster call his jailers "pigs" sent him into a rage. He charged at the gunman and started throwing punches. The pistol discharged, and the bullet grazed Joe's left side, but Joe kept fighting. He knocked out the gunman and two of the other gangsters. The rest of the gang fled.

The next day, the warden had a talk with Joe. Though Joe was a diligent farm worker, and he obviously relished the work, his help wasn't essential. He had no plant control powers, no earth manipulation, no ability to summon rain. His physical strength could be more profitably used beating up bullies and taking their money for the D.O.C.'s use. Would he be willing to accept a mission once a week? It would be best to start by beating up Council, the warden suggested. Council are squishy.

The warden added that Joe had committed at least three violent crimes the day before and had therefore earned a life sentence.