|Concept||Cocky Fighter Pilot|
|Real Name||Capt. Joseph Dean Kennedy|
|Profession||Air Force Pilot|
|Base of Operations|
Kennedy. The last name alone should be enough. Dean is one of /those/ Kennedys, having come up in America's high society. With uncles, aunts, cousins and siblings all involved in the world of politics, Dean is happiest in an airplane cockpit. He's what you get when you cross a young man from a wealthy political family with a hot shot pilot. Well known as one of the best fighter pilots in the United States, Dean has gained notoriety for pushing flight limits and making risky maneuvers. It's enough to leave one wondering if he's outgrown his 'youthful indiscretions' after all.
Rite of Passage
At age seventeen, Dean heard the words that all Kennedy males must listen to as their rite of passage into adulthood:
"Mr. Kennedy, you have the right to remain silent..."
April 18, 2004. The first words out of the drunken teen's mouth to the arresting officer were the same that had left his older brother Bobby's mouth just a few months before. "Do you know who I am?" The second scion of Camelot in his generation to pose the question, Dean and his two friends still had a lot to answer for. The charges filed on the Richmond, VA police report included, "Drunk driving... reckless endangerment... marijuana... drug paraphernalia... knife... suspended driver's liscense."
While the family could be somewhat relieved that the teen and his two friends from the military academy he was attending did not also add indecent exposure or a 'dead girl in the trunk' to the list of charges, it could only be assumed that seventeen-year-old Dean was not going to be shown up by his older brother. Fortunately for Dean, the Richmond police did indeed know who he was. He appeared in district court the next morning and things were quickly taken care of. The trio of teens were even back on the campus of his school by the following Monday.
Life as a Kennedy
Joseph Dean Kennedy is one of /those/ Kennedys, no matter how much he may attempt to distance himself in order to accomplish things on his own merit.
July 4, 1987, the second son of Robert Kennedy, Jr. and Emily Ruth Black drew his first breaths in the world. With his older brother Robert (the third) and (just ten months after Dean's own birth) his younger sister Kathleen, Dean had the lucky stigma of being the middle child. Add to that the number of cousins in Camelot, it was no surprise that Dean gained his competitive streak early on in order to be noticed. Aside from growing up rubbing elbows with rich, famous, and powerful people, Dean was your typical red-blooded American boy. Sports, music, movies, dating... arguing with his parents and getting in trouble with his family. Fast-forward through eighteen years filled with high society functions, family scandals, a divorce, a new step-mother and four more half-siblings...
Was it any wonder that Dean wound up in a constant competitive struggle to be noticed. He grew up used to his name getting him what he wanted, which made earning things on his own -without- the family name all the more enticing. Dean's natural athleticism and dare-devil personality just made any of these small successes play into building up his ego... something his elder brother made a regular point of putting in check. The two eldest siblings of that branch of the Kennedy family tree were notorious for being both closest friends and bitterest rivals, staying in regular conflict with one another.
"Those two aren't happy if they aren't at one another's throats or trying to one up each other," was the frequent sentiment from younger sister Kathleen.
Not for Politics
Over the years, there were a few remarks here and there from society reporters and tabloids who felt that Bobby and Dean were destined to be the next set of Kennedy brothers in Washington. Unlike Bobby, Dean had no real interest in politics. Dean happily left the hopefuls for another future Kennedy in the Whitehouse looking at his older brother, or one of his uncles or cousins. Although, Dean made a point of mentioning that if he -did- want to persue politics, then Bobby would be given a run for his money.
Lucky for Bobby, as Dean put it, the younger Kennedy was more interested in flying planes and venturing into space. Attending a Military Academy for high school, Dean's interest in the Air Force hit a high note. He wasn't given any special treatment because of his pedigree. There were other high society children in attendence, but everyone was given the same expectations reguardless of parentage. The first two years were tough, because he -was- used to things going his way because of who he was. Eventually, though, he worked it out and rose to the challenge. Dean even graduated as an officer, after a few disciplinary problems early on. He -could- make something of himself without relying on his family name.
Rather than following family pressure to pursue a degree in Law and go into politics, Dean enlisted in the Air Force. This was a major step in breaking away from family expectations and following his own path, not to mention Dean couldn't resist a few jabs at Bobby that he'd never have the guts to do it. Dean's 'youthful indiscretions' were a thing of the past. He set out to become the 'best damn pilot' the Kennedy family had ever spawned.
Fast-forward again. One year ago, Dean was transfered to Langley Air Force Base near Port Liberty, VA. The young Kennedy had made a name for himself as an ace fighter pilot and served several tours of duty overseas. Although reprimanded frequently for taking too many risks and pushing the safety limits of the jets he flew, his record was impressive. Enough so that he set his eyes on his next aviation goal: Space.
Space. Some Day.
January 30, 2013.
At the beginning of a day at Langley, Dean found a letter stuck in his locker waiting for him. He'd been waiting for it, but he would have to wait a little longer as he tucked it into his jumpsuit. After the day of maneuvers were done, he invited his wingman and some of his other buddies out to a local bar for drinks. He refused to read the results until there was booze readily available for celebrating. "Come on man, open it already."
Dean rolled his eyes as he settled on a barstool and pulled out a letter. The suspense was killing him, he'd been waiting all day for this. He drew in a breath and tore it open. He flashed a grin at his companions and cleared his throat to read it. "Captin Joseph Dean Kennedy, Thank you very much for sending in your application. We regret to inform you that..." Dean's eyes scanned over the rest of the letter, "...blah dee blah, blah, blah. Shit."
"Damn, dude. I'm sorry."
Dean crumpled the letter from NASA into a ball and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'll pilot something into space one of these days."
"You keep pulling stunts like you did today and you aren't going to be flying shit anywhere, Kennedy. Except for maybe back to your rich family. What were you thinking buzzing the Tower like that?"
"You only live once," Dean said, tossing the rejection letter across the bar into a trashcan. He'd been thinking that might be his last opportunity to buzz the Langley tower. Dean lifted a finger to the bartender. "Fill us up and keep 'em coming. I'm celebrating."
"Celebrating? You didn't get in."
Dean turned his scowl into a smile. "I know. But that means that NASA doesn't give a rat's ass whose grandson or nephew I am, even with a space center named after 'em. That, my friends, is something worth drinking to."