Seamus
Seamus O'Malley
Seamus.jpg
Portrayed By Ewan McGregor
Gender Male
Date of Birth September 15, 1983
Age 23
Zodiac Sign Leo; Water Boar
Aliases Crevan Flynn
Place of Birth Boston, MA, USA
Current Location New York City, NY, USA
Occupation Auto Mechanic; Thief
Known Relatives Doyle Flynn (father), Erin Flynn (mother)
Significant Other none
Known Abilities Mechanopathy
First Appearance Multi-Cultural Festival

Seamus O'Malley is an auto mechanic currently living in New York City. He's fairly laid-back and friendly, and will always greet a newcomer with a smile. He has his secrets, though, and he knows very well how to keep them.

History

The first and only child of Doyle and Erin, Crevan Flynn was born a mechanic's son in Boston, Massachusetts. Given his background and place of living, it was only natural that he had a rather rough-and-tumble upbringing—he was an alley cat of a kid, always in a scuffle or causing mischief. He was never malicious, however: he never, ever started a fight, and any trouble he caused, he caused either by pure accident as a by-product of his own fun—or when making his own fun went a little too far. His mother was always worrying over his welfare, his father constantly yelling at him to "straighten up and fly right," but Crevan found it far more fun do just do whatever he wanted. Erin Flynn was a sweet woman, though, and Doyle Flynn a good man, and a good father—so while Crevan did pretty much whatever he wanted behind his parents' backs, in their presence he did whatever he could to make up for his "indiscretions." His grades in school weren't enough to do that—Cs and Ds, at best the occasional B in a math class—so Crevan took to helping out at home, and helping his father around the shop. Though he wasn't much use for cooking, and tended to make more of a mess than he cleaned up, he discovered an immediate affinity for mechanics, something his father was, indeed, proud of. Afternoons after school, more and more often, found him lying on a skateboard beneath an undercarriage, or squinting from beneath a vaulted vehicle when his father would let him near such dangers. His mind seemed to be tuned to understanding clockworks, gears, pistons. By twelve he could fix just about anything wrong with a car, and was additionally taking apart, reassembling, and in fact fixing his own toys.

At thirteen, however, puberty set in, and with it, dozens of changes to Crevan's life. Besides all the physical and emotional evolution brought on by these physiological changes, Crevan entered high school. This found him spending less time in his father's shop, far less time in his mother's kitchen, and more time with his friends—not all of whom were the most upstanding individuals. Most of the antics these teens engaged in were born from a simple desire to have some fun—though that certainly did not make them harmless. Getting chased from parks for skateboarding out of areas and after hours was how it began; soon, it escalated to trespassing in abandoned buildings and on construction sites, and from there to graffiti tagging, toilet-papering and egging of cars and houses, and whatever else the teens could get away with. Crevan always did his best to keep damage to a minimum: only tagging where there was already graffiti, never breaking what wasn't already abandoned or half-smashed. He was a punk, but he did his best not to cause any real or lasting harm.

His friends weren't so concerned with the well-being of the world, though. Though Crevan had always been the unofficial leader of their group, thanks to his slight size and high speed—the better for getting into places and out of scrapes—one girl in particular kept suggesting more and more dangerous (and illegal) challenges. Riley Moore was a firecracker, and a malicious one. Under her suggestion, trespassing ended up on private property, with the breaking of windows and tagging of clean walls and fences commonplace; egging cars moved to putting sugar in the gas tanks; and soon, she was suggesting new adventures altogether. It was Riley that first started using the other teens as a distraction to palm candy bars and packs of cigarettes from the counters of convenience stores. Crevan wasn't happy about this at first, but when no one got caught, he began to wonder what the real harm in small theft was. People who had a lot could afford to lose it, right? And besides—as a mechanic's son, he didn't exactly have a big allowance to spend. So he started joining Riley's little escapades in petty theft… trinkets from strip malls, bits of food from street vendors; newspapers, comic books. Anything Crevan could palm, slip into a pocket or slide beneath his jacket was fair game, and he was excellent at not getting caught. And then these crimes, too, began to escalate. Riley was a magician with a hairpin, and soon the gang—and sometimes just the pair—were stealing from little jewelry shops, hardware stores, repair places, and hocking their prizes at various pawn shops for a bit of cash. Things came to a head one night when the pair were seventeen, and Riley broke them into a higher-end jewelry store in the early hours before dawn. The store, unfortunately, had a silent alarm, and it wasn't long before police cars were bearing down on the shop. The two split up and ran like hell, each doing his or her level best to get the hell away. Crevan avoided capture. Riley didn't. And Riley squealed.

Crevan wasn't expecting Riley to talk, but he expected the cops to find him nonetheless. He'd never been caught before, but he had it in his head that if the cops came, his room would be searched, and he'd be busted for a lot more than that night's break-in. So he ran straight home, packed a rucksack with his cash, what small things he'd stolen and not yet sold, some clothes, a bit of food from the fridge and his tool kit. He was gone long before the police showed up, scared for his life and running like a madman.

The next two years, Crevan spent on the road, changing his name often, hitch-hiking place to place, doing small bouts of work at mechanic shops, diners, and in private homes and on private farms, and stealing for his meals when he couldn't find work. Eventually he found his way to New York City, where he once again used thievery and small jobs to support himself while living in the street or in whatever shelters he could worm his way into. He lived this way for about a year until he was caught once more—this time literally, snagged by the wrist by mechanic from whose bench he'd attempted to snag a replacement screwdriver for his own broken one. Then man took pity on Crevan, however, given the boy's ratty and half-starved appearance. Crevan—now going by the name Seamus Smith—was taken into the widower's home and given a job in his shop. Crevan-now-Seamus took to it like a duck to water, falling easily back into the work his father had taught him from the age of two. It took some doing to break Seamus of the habit of picking customers' pockets or squirreling half his meals away in his room for later, but as the months rolled by, he started fitting himself back into a less feral style of living. The shop owner, one Rodney O'Malley, was a good man, and Seamus looked up to him like a father.

Seamus was twenty-three when his power manifested. He was in the shop, working on an old jalopy of a car, doing his damnedest to fix whatever nonsense was wrong. Not that he could figure out exactly what that was. Every time he fixed one problem, another seemed to present itself. Finally, in frustration, he opened the hood, placed both hands on the engine, and glared furiously down into the machine, eyeing up each of the potential problems. Several sets of clinks and clunks happened at once, and on their own, causing Seamus to jump back in surprise. Instinct called him, however, and he tried the ignition. The car started without a hitch. Confused and intrigued, Seamus began going around to several of the other cars in the shop, placing a hand or two on the engine, and staring into the workings inside. Even without seeing what the issues were, part of him seemed to know, and on thinking about what tightening or shifting of parts would fix the issue, those fixes seemed to clack into place on their own. Seamus immediately ran to Rodney, dragging him over to the last unfixed car in the place and showing him what he could do. Rodney assumed it was a trick or a joke, and no matter what Seamus said, the older man just waved him off as a kidder. Furious, Seamus huffed off to the loft above the shop, slamming his door. Rodney followed—and to the surprise of both, was locked out of Seamus's room, despite the fact that the key to that door had been missing for years. Rodney had to remove the doorknob and take the door off its hinges to get Seamus out. From that moment, however, Seamus was suspicious of his own power. Soon he was testing it on everything—anything and everything with mechanical moving parts. It took doing—often a lot of it—but mechanics and clockworks just seemed to listen to him.

The final test to prove to himself that this was, in fact, some kind of superhuman power and not coincidence, was one more foray into thievery. Again, it was a jewelry store—and this one, he knew had an alarm. But his hand on the lock got it open, and his hand on the knob got the door to swing free of the frame. Once he was inside, he reclosed the door, relocked it, and hid. The police arrived, silenced the alarm, and upon finding nothing missing and no sign of forced entry, assumed the alarm was faulty and went on their way. Seamus took only a few pieces—nothing fancy—and left again, triumphant. Until he got home. Rodney, old man as he was, had passed away in the night. Seamus passed himself off as the man's son, taking the name O'Malley for himself, and remained in the shop, honing his power and retaining jobs as both mechanic and petty thief.

Timeline

(This page is still being worked on. Will fix up more and add details later!)

Quotes

  • "Memorable quotes!"

Trivia

  • Theme Song: Barenaked Ladies - "Falling for the First Time"
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