Theodore was awake before his alarm went off, and as such was able to swing himself out of bed and shut the clock up before it had finished its second beep.

He moved from his bed to the door in near total darkness, grabbed his dressing gown from the hook it was hanging on, and walked out into the main area of the RC. He advanced cautiously into the living room, groping along the wall for the lightswitch – while his bedroom floor was perfectly safe to navigate in darkness, the same could not necessarily be said of the shared areas.

The lights came on, revealing a typical RC. Like many others, it was furnished in a somewhat haphazard manner - although the typical look of an RC could be summarised as ‘whatever we found that we wanted’, leading to an inevitable clash of styles, in this case there seemed to be a deliberate theme of contrasting technology. An ornate grandfather clock kept time next to a top of the line 3D TV, and various other odds and ends were a mix of archaic and high-tech.

The floor was mercifully free from hindrances such as discarded clothing and takeaway wrappers – either his partner had returned unusually sober, or hadn’t made it back yet. Faint sounds of snoring as he passed the door to the other bedroom indicated the former.

He had a light breakfast of orange juice and toast, before dressing in sweatpants and a vest; ready for his morning run. He left his RC and went out into the DIA wing: Central was pretty quiet, but that was hardly surprising considering that his alarm was set to go off a couple of hours before the early shift began. Theodore nodded to the few night shifters still around, and headed out into the rest of HQ.

He paid no attention to where he was going, running with his head down – he hated having his morning run interrupted, and deliberately ignored his surroundings, in case he saw something that he’d have to take official notice of.

One he’d worked up a good sweat, not to mention a gnawing hunger, he quickly made his way back to his RC. DIA agents seemed to be less affected by HQ’s notoriously difficult to navigate corridors, probably thanks to Legal.

When he got back to his RC, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see that the door to his partner’s bedroom still hadn’t been opened, in fact, if volume of snores was anything to go by, he was sleeping even deeper than when Theo had left.

He stripped out of his sweat-stained clothes and showered, in water so hot he could only just stand it, steaming up the small bathroom till it seemed foggy. The mirror had steamed up, but a brief press of his finger against the touch sensitive panel in the corner of the glass and it instantly cleared. As far as Theo was concerned, some aspects of modern/future technology were nothing short of miraculous, but then there were other times when the old ways were best.

Grey eyes regarded him momentarily, before he looked away to gather his shaving tools. Modern shaving foam was paired with an antique cut-throat razor, and he began working with careful and deliberate motions, eyes closed, relying on the feel of the blade gliding over his skin.

When he was finished, his skin was completely smooth, and he regarded himself critically in the mirror before washing up. His hair, a similar colour to his eyes now that he’d turned forty, was getting a little long and unruly by his standards, and he made a mental note to get it cut sometime soon.

Refreshed and clean, he headed out into the kitchen again, and fixed himself a heavier second breakfast of cold meats, cheese and bread. The smell of brewing coffee, from hand-ground beans, pervaded through the RC.

While Theodore was finishing his second breakfast, a beeping from elsewhere in the rooms indicated his partner was getting up, although the number of slaps and thuds suggested that he was having difficulty finding the ‘snooze’ button, and would likely be late to start again.

With his breakfast finished, and the small amount of washing up it had generated done, Theodore poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and moved over to his writing desk. The desk was relatively clear: a notepad and old fashioned fountain pen were on the left, and a tablet computer was on the right. Between them was a framed ferrotype, showing an image of himself and beautiful young woman – his sister, long dead now, killed by the same Assassins that had recruited him. It served as a daily reminder of why he’d joined the DIA, and not the DMS or one of the other Action Departments.

He gave his sister a moment of silence, raising his coffee in salute to her – she’d always drunk more of the stuff than he did anyway, before turning to the business of the day. He made a note about visiting his barber on the pad, while waiting the few seconds for the tablet to power up, then began flicking through his e-mails.

A few were personal, but the majority were work related. A black market shipment of Bleeprin had turned out to be nothing more than sugar pills, resulting in several hyperactive agents spending the night in the DIA ‘cells’, actually repurposed RCs, until they were calm enough to be let out.

While he was reading and replying to those that needed it, every ten minutes or so his partner’s alarm went off, followed by the thuds of an at best half-awake person trying, and failing, to find the snooze button again. This continued until the grandfather clock chimed, at which point Theodore knew he had to get ready to leave.

He went back into his room and dressed in pinstripe trousers, a white shirt with black sleeve garters, and a black waistcoat – his usual attire when on duty.

There was still no sign that his partner would be up any time soon, so he grabbed his tablet and lever-action shotgun and headed out into DIA Central. The weapon may have seemed like overkill for a patrol officer, but like other aspects of Theodore’s life, his weapon of choice was a study in contrasts. The antique weapon was typically loaded with high-tech Tazer rounds, allowing him to take down a flamethrower crazy Agent relatively safely, both for him and them.

He made his way to his desk, hoping that it would be free – the DIA had to be ready to respond to events at any time, day or night, and so worked in shifts and hot-desked. Fortunately on this day his predecessor hadn’t overrun, and had even finished with enough time to tidy up and clear away properly.

Theodore slid into the still warm seat, secured his shotgun in a rack at the side, then clipped his tablet into the docking station. He unlocked his drawer, one of four identical ones that were part of the desk, and took out his stationery and the reports he was working on. The last thing that he took out was his nameplate, which he placed on the corner of the desk, angled so that anyone walking down the aisle could see his name: T. Shacklemore.



Author's Note:
I've had ideas for writing a DIA Agent for a while now, but didn't really do anything about it. This seemed like a perfect oppourtunity to take the idea further, and I have to say that I found it very useful for coming up with his character - I've got half-completed Interlude involving Theo actually interacting with some other agents, and notes for some more stuff that I can do with him. I don't think I'd normally have such detailed plans at this early stage.

So thanks, PoorCynic, for posting this workshop - I look forward to seeing what other topics you cover.

While on the subject of this workshop in particular, I would just add that most agents come in pairs - when developing ideas for agent characters, it's probably a good idea to think about them in terms of interactions with their partner, as well as purely as individuals (and yes, I realise that my piece featuring a single agent does somewhat undermine the point I'm trying to make). Think about where their attitudes/outlook might be similar, and where they'll be completely different - just a little bit of extra advice for anyone thinking about their first agent pair.

Wizards. Superhumans. The gifted. Whatever you'd like to call them. Crafting characters with special abilities is a task with a few special hurdles of its own. It's not that powers themselves make a character a Sue or Stu; even the most powerful heroes and villains can be balanced and well-crafted characters. It is, however, easier to create a Sue or Stu with powers if written poorly. As such, there are a couple things to keep in mind during the character creating process.

Knowing Their Limits

Whenever I make someone with special abilities, I make sure to give them clear(ish) limits on what they can do. It's too easy to allow the limits of someone's power to creep up over time as the threats escalate. The Dragonball series is a prime example of such a phenomenon taking place, as is Silver Age Superman.

There are two kinds of limits I use: physical and mental. Physical limits are just as they sound. The character in question can't use their power in certain ways, or if they do they run the risk of hurting or killing themselves. Mental limits are things that a character could do with their power but don't because it violates their personal code. The psychic who doesn't read other people's minds because it's an invasion of privacy. Mental limits are obviously easier to push past, but doing so might open up an entirely new can of worms. Maybe they become wracked with guilt. Maybe they start questioning the rest of their moral code and start on their way to the Dark Side (so to speak).

For example: I used both physical and mental limits when creating Gremlin. She has the ability to manipulate electricity and electrical fields, which by itself could have a pretty broad application (electromagnetism, weather manipulation, technopathy, and so on). I put a physical block on her by making her ability a subtle and unflashy one. She can't hurl lightning bolts or fly or anything like that. At most, she could manipulate existing electrical phenomena. I wrote an (as of yet unpublished) interlude where she 'pulled' the electrical arc out of a stungun and was able to shape it into a marble-sized bit of ball lightning. Even then, doing so caused electrical burns to her hand. That's pretty much as showy as she can get.

Her mental limit is a bit more interesting. I decided when refining Gremlin for the PPC that she could, with a great deal of focus and effort, manipulate the natural electricity in creatures she happened to be touching. That is, she COULD but WOULDN'T. Despite being a thief and something of rebel, Gremlin isn't a psychopath. Puppeting someone around by their own nervous system, tightening their muscles so hard that their tendons tear and their bones break, stopping their heart with a thought: those are the acts of a lunatic. It's invasive, brutal, and horrifying. The only way I could see Gremlin doing something like that was if her life (or someone she truly cared about) was in imminent mortal danger. Even then, she'd definitely not be okay afterward.

Limits don't just apply to things like superpowers. Certain types of magic might require personal risk or sacrifice, like blood magic or bartering with a demon. Maybe learning certain spells means you can't learn others, in the vein of classic D&D. Chi techniques might require mediation and adhering to strict personal vows like chastity or solitude.

Limits. Know 'em. Get 'em. Use 'em.

The Most Important Rule

Characterization always takes precedence over the power. ALWAYS. If you want to make a metahuman because you think that someone with a certain power would be cool or awesome, you're doing it wrong. Ask yourself if this character really needs a power or an ability.

A method I will sometimes use is I will craft a version of my intended powered character sans powers. The World Prime version of that individual, as it were. Then, knowing what I do about their character from that process, I add in a power. An origin story, as it were (if such a concept applies).

You shouldn't be afraid of creating characters with powers, nor should you automatically be suspicious of OCs with them. It might be easier to slip down the path into Sue or Stu-dom, but it's not a given. The most important thing to remember is to make them a real character, and not just a set of cool abilities.

PoorCynic

This is a really helpful, coherent guide on character-writing! Thank you for putting it together, these are really useful suggestions. I was going to start replying to the challenge, but I've got mostly NaNoWriMo characters bouncing around my head right now, and the remaining Starships & Sorcery ideas are unlikely to wind up as agents. I may put the whole thing down in Google Drive for reference in further writing, though, if you don't mind - it's an awesome reference for character-building in any 'verse.

“Pygmalion!”

The old man looked up from the battered hardback edition of Hermione Granger and the Inter-Species Treaty. “Androia,” he croaked, “I didn’t hear you knock.”

“Your hearing is getting as bad as your eyesight,” shouted Androiaavata, shoving the door shut with her heel while she still kept her eyes on the man. “Plug your device in! I yelled enough at you while we were partners, I don’t need to continue this!”

“It’s nice to have some quite while reading.” The ex-agent fumbled for the ear plugs of his hearing aid. “Now, what are you doing here?” he inquired. “When I retired, I didn’t expect to see you ever again.”

“I was busy with all this Hermione Granger badfic and a new partner who doesn’t have a clue. But didn’t you imagine that I am kind at heart? I cannot just abandon you, that’s not how you made me.”

The wheel-chair creaked as the old man, whose name was not Pygmalion, moved uncomfortably. “Lots of what I imagined never came true,” he muttered.

Androia stepped forward and cowered to meet his gaze at eye level. “This is because you allowed your dark side to take over your imagination. You tried to occupy me, and I couldn’t have this. But you also gave me the strength to fight back. And after all we’ve gone through together, you’re a kind of friend. I got a day off and came here to do you a favor.” For the first time, the old man smiled. Never before had she called him a friend. And he was not blind yet. Of course he had noticed that she was not wearing the black uniform. So this was not just a two minutes visit between assignments.

The young woman stretched, stepped aside and swirled around to make her long skirt fly. “How do I look? Good enough for taking you out?”

“Get yourself a mirror, there’s no sense in asking me. Since I created you, I would never admit that you are less than perfect – in any aspect. So what’s the plan?“

Androia’s face went blank for a moment, but then the ‘any aspect’ got to her, and she broke into a broad smile. “The movie comes out tonight,” she said, winking at the book in her friends lap. “We’ll go to the cinema.”

“That’s not a favor,” grumbled the old man. “You know that I never liked any of these movies.”

“I know that you want to see it anyway, so you can rant about what they got all wrong this time.” Androia grabbed the wheel-chair’s handlebar. “Let’s have some fun and spork the hell out of them!”

_________________________________________________________________________

Author’s notes:
Like Joanne K. Rowling, I wrote the epilogue in advance, so that I know where I want to take these two. Now I have to write them an origin story which is better than: In an AU, Bad!Hieronymus snatched Androiaavata out of the World of Warcraft realm where he had created her. She lived with him, because she had no other place to go, but it was not quite like he had imagined it. In an attempt to overcome his frustration, Bad!Hieronymus wrote fanfiction about how it should have been. Unfortunately he had told Androia that he intended to write them both into the PPC, so she looked it up and she wasn’t enthused. Then they both fell through a plothole and were in the PPC.

Since they still aren’t in the PPC and I don’t even have permission, I don’t know which date ‘ten years hence’ is based off. I assume this may happen in about 2030 HST.

I deliberately avoided to show where this happens, because I don’t know this either. Is there a retirement home for agents in New Caledonia?

I've never been good about using prompts—I like to RP to flesh out new characters when possible—but these are pretty good ones. Not only do you have to think about how the character would behave in the situations listed, you have to think of what the character would consider an important event, or a setback, or criticism, or worth doing as a favor or first thing in the morning. Even if I don't get around to writing anything down, I'll be thinking about these for a while. {= )

~Neshomeh

This will surely be of great use to me when I write a story next time.

~Autumn

It's taking awhile, though.

I'm going the extra mile and doing two. One for my (gender-bent) Time Lord Alter-ego who may end up as an Agent eventually and the other for my character who will be my first Agent once I have Permission.

I’m not sure whether I will find the time to take the challenge, but you should know that I copied your advice to my hard drive to make use of it when I do work on my future agents.

In which he discovers what walking though plotholes can lead to.

The (first) Librarian is, apparently, my Time Lord alter-ego; since I've decided to stop writing Anebrin as an Agent, I've been toying with the idea of having him succeed Anebrin as Agent!Des' partner, and this piece can be a part of his introduction. Maybe.