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Harris Doubledon worked as a garbage man in Bristol, England originally. He was average height, average weight, had close-cropped sandy blond hair (for low maintenance) and a perpetual look on his face like he wanted a beer.

He did.

He cared nothing for his own advancement. Mediocre parents in a mediocre neighborhood with mediocre children bred a mediocre man who was content in aiming low, and honestly had no belief or even thought that he could advance beyond doing just enough to get by.

So he got up every morning, got showered, dressed, ate, and went to work. After work, he'd go to the pub, have a pint or two, live excitement vicariously by watching either Improbable Island or football, go home, eat dinner, change, brush his teeth, and go to bed. Every day.

Then came the fateful day he was greeted by the large men who burst through his kitchen door with large clubs to his head, followed by a sack to pull over it.

Which was.

Unsavory trash talk (not his), an upsetting drug cocktail, a healthy amount of screaming as he fell out of a plane later, he found himself on Improbable Island and promptly went into shock, which served him nicely. This is to say, he didn't die. He even killed the Drive. He thought. You know how that part goes.


Having been transformed into a Kittymorph, he took the Watcher up on her offer, and forgot everything. He retained his new found sense of bravado, a slight predilection for alcoholic drink, and that was it. Even his formerly slightly above average curiosity was gone, replaced of course, by great heaping gobs of it. Also per typical Kittymorph, his weapons of choice were claws and bow1).

He met gods, monsters, and everything inbetween now without batting an eye because he'd lived on the Island his whole life! He continued on in this conviction for a while until a Kittymorphs named Amerithe, Omega, and another one named Neeip (whom he had met as a human) frankly informed him that wasn't so.

Even then, Harris was troubled but undaunted. He didn't have the attention span to be. There is too much to see, too much hunting to be done, and oh, isn't the Chemical Pack a lovely tickle inbetween his ears!

It also made his head make little tinkling noises after long.

He joined the clan Amity in Bedlam too.



Then one fateful day, he walked into Stonehenge, was hit by lightning that didn't burn him, and the world went strange. He remembers bits of Bristol now, as well as Gotham, Battle School, Knothole Village, renaissance Italian circuses, Krypton, New York City circa 1933, the moon, Canada, and quite possibly Hawaii, Samoa, and Scotland, among many others. This has happened many, many times now, and he has gained new disjointed knowledge and experiences from dead folk every time. Including awareness that he's been around longer and further than he'd previously thought.

These memories have not only taught him many new skills and knowledges that he has yet to learn he's learned,3) he's become prone to being literal-minded, intensely focused when drunk, and hypnotizable to varying degrees with sufficiently shiny/glittering surfaces.

Harris is looking even more distracted than he once was; this is because a new-found full awareness of skills he was given is manifesting as thoughts in their original owners' voices. His internal monologue has become a full play. He has also found some measure of being able to call on skills he's never tried before at full proficiency exactly when he needs them. Not necessarily the best skills for each situation, but needed ones nonetheless.

What he does not realize4) is that his new powers of retention (and their side effects) are thanks to Korbel fixing a thing or two inside of his head with the aid of the 'Being John Malkovich' properties of Nattering.

The further effects of Stonehenge are that he can also identify any person he has already met every time he sees them- not even changing race will erase someone from his memory. For Harris now has an eidetic memory, and can somewhat see the dead. He never forgets a detail (such as facial features), and, as long as you have died on the Island, he can see every face you've ever worn. So almost everyone looks like blobby mutants with a LOT of noses and limbs to him, no matter how pretty they actually are. And no matter how many are blobby mutants with lots of noses and limbs.

Since the brain surgery, he is no longer flighty and flaky by nature. He now decides to stay unfocused unless he simply MUST pay full attention to something or someone, because sorting through several thousand peoples'(and other things') thoughts frustrates and frightens him to no end- a fact he has shared with no-one.

The two skill sets he has developed on the Island that are all his own are his cooking and his marksmanship.

He has become a master chef when equipped with a grill, due to an enthusiasm for hunting that far outstripped his proficiency. Hard work and perseverance and all that won out, at least in his ability to prepare meat. Harris does not know he's a fantastic cook; he's quite bad about leaving any sort of contactability behind, or even sticking around long enough to hear any thoughts, always for one reason or another. Harris is also learning the cooking temperatures generated by eBoy's grenades, with mixed results. Slight errors in kitchen strategy aside, Harris is now, in fact, one of the best cooks5) on the entire island6).

Harris has not yet demonstrated his aim to any of his clanmates or other friends. He's had no occasion to. If he ever did, he'd probably be quite alarmed at how alarmed they were.7)



Before coming to the island, Harris could play acoustic guitar. He doesn't very much any more because in his first week on the island, he somehow found his guitar, and quickly lost it again. Acoustic guitars are NOT a suitable method of stopping a charging sorority girl.

His paws concern him greatly; he's convinced he can't clap. He always tries to when he's wearing gloves of some kind. No one has yet pointed this out to him. You jerks.

May break into a choreographed song and dance number at any time. You have been warned.



Before his second drive kill and second encounter with Stonehenge in a good mood, he was a hardcore catnip addict. He's better now. The budding alcoholism returned for a short period of time, as regulars at The Prancing SpiderKitty can attest. To date, he's drunk over twenty-six Gargleblasters and lived.

His liver is currently hating how many ciders and Tigger balms he puts back at Miu-Miu's, as are his joints8).



His perennial set of servos are at odds with him most of the time. Due to being attached to Harris' spinal cord, (and as such, fairly directly to his overloaded brain) they gained sentience (and the frank opinion that Harris is a fool) long ago. Harris seems blissfully unaware that they are intelligent, or at all odd. As to why his implant thinks so little of him, the arms aren't sharing.

The arms talk by way of a highly modified version of American Sign Language utilized through a combination of reading what others 'look' like by reading Harris' nerve impulses as he perceives the other people, careful positioning of themselves, and a goodly amount of obscenity when talking about their owner. They simply don't talk to him.

The only mechanism on the Island that gives Harris more trouble is the Amity in Bedlam toaster ('Toasty'). Toasty has been trying to kill him ever since Harris tried to fix himself a toasted live rat and peanut buttter panini.

Korbel also installed a mechanical door guard on the AiB clan hall which may or may not have it out for Harris. Woe be unto him if it, the toaster, and his servos ever get together.

He avoided the thing altogether by climbing the outside of the clan hall (a very large tree he calls 'Willoughby' for reasons known only to himself), and inside through his bedroom window.


Once, Harris killed the Drive with particularly striking results.

Either having forsaken his humanity long ago, or still being unable to recall what(if any) was his to begin with, the former garbageman had been a Kittymorph for a long time. There seemed to be some deep connection there, for his hair went back to his pre-island style of close-cropped, but remained a rather striking grey-blue hue (the same one his fur had been).

This was the only physical feature he had left that was appealing. Looking at him, after flinching, one could logically conclude that his appearance was a new side effect of his trips into Stonehenge and receiving the memories of so many thousands of souls.

His skin was a haphazard patchwork of every race of man, Midget, Kittymorph, and Zombie- and some less identifiable samples as well. His muscles and bones fared no better. He had a woman's hips, his right leg was noticeably longer than the other, some of his fingers appeared to be that of men over eighty, others have almost nothing but skin and tendon on the bone, others robust, working-class looking things, and he had a woman's pinky on his left hand.

Harris also had prehensile hips. These ended up being rubbish for any sort of manipulation, so he used them to give terrifically hard clouts to the midsection of opponents he'd grappled.9) This was also a slightly cowing sight, as he folded backward and forward at the waist like a marionette being jerked by a tired child when he did this.

For all of that physical warping, Harris' jumbled personality was almost unchanged, with the exceptions of talking less and looking serious more often. He tended too to leave scraps of paper, leaves, or tree bark with poetry on them littering every place he went.

He wore the bow and quiver he received from Korbel for Christmas10) on his back constantly. He also carried a sledgehammer over his shoulder and took to humming that song about John Henry incessantly. He'd (thankfully) dressed now, too- always sporting fuzzy bunny slippers and a black tuxedo.

His servos of course, were back.


Harris beat the drive again, with subtle results. Subtle for these parts anyway.

He was a Kittymorph again, and regained the beaming (and illogically perfect) smile to prove it. He and his servos began working in concert more and more often (though the door guard still will not give way for him). Toasty and he seem to have an uneasy truce as well- the AiB clan toaster only attempts to murder him once every other month now.

His clan badge was displayed prominently over his heart. He never seemed to notice he had it pinned to his naked chest.

He went of course, right back to wearing nothing but his bandolier, backpack, gloves, and shoes. He also began to wear the Stetson gifted to him by a strange woman who rode a drill machine through the walls of Kittania one day more and more frequently.

Harris even began to decorate his room with something other than blood stains, sweat stains, and footprints, albeit in a very Harrislike fashion.

On his door, wrought in the bark itself(the method for which Willoughby could only explain to Mercury as "he listened", before having to resort to untranslatable speech ) is now a motto:

If there is righteousness in the heart, there will be beauty in the character. If there is beauty in the character, there will be harmony in the home. If there is harmony in the home, there will be order in the nation. If there is order in the nation, there will be peace in the world. So let it be.

There is also a giant yellow smiley face adorning his east wall. This is done quite obviously in finger paint, as Harris once again lacks thumbs.

His mattress still more or less occupied the middle of the floor where Adder and NotAgain kindly threw it for him.

The only other decoration was a series of deep grooves worn into his window frame by his claws and servos; his trouble with the door guard meant that he constantly entered and exited the tree by his bedroom window.

Harris also got distracted from his drinking problem somewhere along the line by the marketing wiles of Sheila, who has him now hooked on ZAP grenades and Monster Repellent11).


NotAgain, Korbel, Adder Moray, Mercury, and Pod all endeared themselves so thoroughly long ago that he looks up to all of them and automatically views any other member of Amity in Bedlam fondly (even though he's not the easiest to get to know in turn.).

Korrin McCleod made all of Amity in Bedlam mugs of their very own. Harris' speaks out loud. He has no idea how, and seems unbothered by this, as they get along very well together.12)

Harris may or may not have made friends with his clan hall(tree). The only ones who know for certain are Mercury and Biff, both of whom are declining for comment thus far.

Since a chance meeting of Harris and Ebenezer AND Escemfer one day in Kittania, it has slowly but steadily evolved into a mission for Harris to feed the man "properly". Harris still thinks with his stomach in a most catlike way, however, so this consists of trying to give him an variety of meat and meat product. Harris looked at that cranky face and could tell immediately that the poor man was obviously starving. For hunger can make you cranky, and Escemfer agreed.

Harris sometimes misses his friend Omega, whom he's pretty sure he saw during a morphine-induced haze on the Failboat a couple of weeks ago, but has not otherwise spied for months. The former stage magician, before Amity in Bedlam, was vital to Harris' mental well-being with her card and coin tricks. He found them quite soothingly real, reliable, and shiny.

He also misses the Cocoa man and Silcatra every time he goes to the Failboat. Nothing says good Samaritan like free hot chocolate WITH tiny marshmallows in.

He's quite taken with both the mysterious lady he knows only as Zolotisty, and the gnomically quiet lady named Cadye; he drops into almost courtly (for him) manners when they're both around, and seems perfectly lucid when speaking with either individually.

This is a conglomeration of the factors of their utterly just, yet compassionate natures (as he sees them), the fact of some part of him (original, or acquired life experience) being able to recognize a Lady when he sees one (and hearing his Father's admonitions on how to treat women most loudly when he's around them), and the quite likely feline intuition of 'these are apex predators'.

Knows things about the people on the show he's not sure will enhance his longevity. Especially because they SEEM nice. So he has elected to keep very, very mum for now.

Recently left Amity in Bedlam with only a vague (though excited) note as explanation. Really all it said was he'd found "adventure". Harris gave his clan badge to Shi, his front door key to Lester, and headed off for parts unknown.

During that time, the audience's favorite impishly sinister zombie gal, Johnson left a plant that helps with memory in Harris' Natter. What she did not know at the time is that Harris' Natter is directly linked to his mind, so he cannot enter it. Thusly, he also has a memory plant inside of his thoughts. This is having an another interesting side effect that Harris is not yet aware of- where Korbel's surgery has allowed him to access a useful skill anytime he needs one, Johnson's plant allows the addled Kittymorph access to a useful personality when he needs one. Because he has no-one's complete thoughts or feelings in his head, these incomplete people coming to the forefront of his mind means that the dead person's personality and memories temporarily combine with Harris'. The end effect of the combinations are much like multiple personality disorder, except Harris' mind is able to shunt away the "extra" personality when he no longer needs it.

Since all gateways into Natterspace have been destroyed, the memory cactus is now a permanent fixture of Harris' mind. Any long-term effects of having at-will multiple personalities and of being constantly poked in the subconscious have yet to be seen.



Harris resurfaced here and there, mostly in manic defense of an embattled AceHigh and CyberCity 404, and seeming to learn a fair bit (or remember) about combat to the point of being bloodied and broken and crawling off to the Hospital Tent or a dark hole time and time again, but once, ONCE, repulsing an invasion of CyberCity with only a lightning gun and two other contestants.

After this, he was seen walking across the upper landing of DICE's clan halls wearing a DICE clan badge immediately following a game of Extreme Whack-a-Fish.


Harris has found PEOPLE out in the jungle- non-contestant people! He's currently unsure what to make of this. Myriad memories whisper things about some of them- one wizard, to be precise -and others- such as one 'Mister Conductor' -he has no idea of at all.

He's getting leery of the fact that he only sees Stonehenge rarely now. Despite Sessine's reassurances, he still wonders whether or not those stones have a plan.

Recently got terribly lost for a month, made his way into Natterspace, made friends with the skeleton man who lives at the edge of it, caused the first Natterspace brawl13), found his way out, fought a Titan, found he doesn't like them, and celebrated by getting a truly malevolent hangover.

Several successful Titan tussles under his belt now, Harris seeks less to physically abuse so much as emotionally abuse the gargantuan creatures. He practices his Ronsen-Kiai on them almost every time they show up and quite often succeeds, making Cuthbert fiercely proud of his most foolhardy student14).

Harris is also getting more and more disturbed with each passing Lion. Where are the Lionesses??15)


Judging by how many times he has been careening down the outside of the DICE clan hall, and how many times he has been scaling it, Harris had made himself at home. Further indicators were the brotherly affection he has for Tyr and Darcy (in a younger and an older sense, respectively) and his (perhaps) secret pride that Zolotisty now speaks to him as a peer.



Even more recently, a thirtyish Joker man has been seen in Harris' normal haunts (insofar as he has normal ones) in place of the Stetson-clad Kittymorph.

It seems the weirdness he so eagerly delves into has finally caught up with Harris. Improbability in his body hit that all-too-familiar critical mass, and he has mutated into a flawlessly dressed and groomed Joker. Even weirder, he has fallen quiet, contemplative, and calm. Even his servos are not seen to act out16). The brain of a Joker, it seems, is equal to the task of sorting through all of the sundry lives Harris can recall, and putting them in proper order17). Harris shifts back and forth to Joker now, without warning18).

Has been called upon to do an odd amount of surgery these days19). This has so far included Shoggoth bite treatment- a surgical procedure that Harris divined could be accomplished with chronospheres and a regenerating Joker's blood20) -as well as the installation of a bionic limb. Another process he knows about, but has never performed.

Harris Eugene Doubledon, Joker, also began keeping the company of one Marly de la Mer, former leader of GERM. What could possibly go wrong?



The Stranger came into the contestant population; a threat even greater than the Titans, for being undetectable as well as a threat to possibly more than life.

Harris reacted very strongly to encountering the creature. He bought a Sun Gun, started patrolling the island, was talked down from wanting to kill the Stranger by the Island Watch, and built a research laboratory dedicated to curing the malady brought on by him on an islet not far northwest of the island.

Because northwest of the island is open ocean, the lab on this thirty foot stretch of land was washed away in the next storm. Undaunted, Harris began his research there once more. The islet's isolation was vital to making sure his rather volatile inventions couldn't hurt anyone. The lab washed away in the next storm after that. Ever a tough nut to crack, Harris rebuilt again. It washed away again. After this happened three times more, Harris finally decided to say the Hell with it, and build a bunker on one of Improbable Island's northernmost beaches.

What he does not know is that Stonehenge's many "gifts" (his memories that did not start out as his) are so many and varied, that the very force of his thoughts are now holding the Stranger's own "gift" at bay. The memory cactus might have something to do with this as well. It might not.

Whatever happens to the garbage man turned Kittymorph, it is at least safe to say now that his "adventure" is stopping The Stranger.



Harris has wandered off again, this time leaving his home in the DICE clan halls, his only travelling companion once again his trusty Zombie Donkey Chester. With his mentality, this could well mean anything... or nothing. Time will tell.


Harris has been around the island many, many times. Along with the odd events, he has of course, picked up an odd oddity or two. He currently owns, in addition to a swanky bandolier, backpack, and varying armor and weapon du Sheila combinations:

* A Stetson hat (the present from the nice lady who drove her drill machine through the walls of Kittania)
* A copper gerbil named Harvey that sings along with whatever Harris sings in perfect harmony (a Christmas present from Korbel)
* A longbow and quiver (another Christmas present from Korbel)
* A pair of glass and leather tap shoes (a Christmas present from Cherriki Ten)
* A fine green coat with brass buttons and tails, and a matching set of green servo ribbons (a present from Zolotisty)
* A hat that becomes whatever hat he wishes when he dons it (another present from Korbel, but one he doesn't like to lord over his fellow islanders)
* A memory cactus (the present from Johnson)
* An origami crane
* A day pass to the Bingo Hall
* A talking mug with 'HARRIS' etched into its outside (the mug made for him by Korrin McCleod)
* A muffin!

Watcher only knows where he keeps them.21)

1) He simply appreciates Lightning Guns for their asthetic value. Honest.
2) Dun dun DUUUUUUUNN.
3) Examples he knows about: Hula, waltz, Haka, tracking, booby traps, leatherworking, tanning, bagpipes, step dancing, blacksmithing, Bodhran, mountain climbing, bass guitar, glass blowing, bartending, Russian, gymnastics, Hawai'ian, Samoan, Scottish Gaelic, weaving, Ninjitsu, Norwegian, candlemaking, faerie speak, Spanish, robotic engineering, interior decorating, hypnotism, dance instructing, and U.S. Army munitions manufacture.
4) Harris can't look inside his own head- He's tried.
5) Check the HoF!
7) Harris, to date, has killed seven Moose before they could even pull the trigger. That's right- seven in one blow. There's a reason why flies have stopped trying to pester Harris. It isn't his diplomacy skills.
8) They make him a bit twitchy.
9) And to crack walnuts.
10) the quiver never runs out of arrows
11) Best light, sound AND taste of the offensive weaponry, after all. You'd know this too, if you'd ever tried nibbling on a Pork Sword that's been in the sun all afternoon.
12) It can only say the word 'Wookie', and it shouts.
13) There was a shark! But don't worry, he didn't jump it. He rode it.
14) No matter how many of these ventures have ended in Harris being drained of most of his blood through explosive decompression.
15) Never look a gift Lion in the Mouth, you FOOL!
16) Or even speak
17) Don't believe this for a minute.
18) Suggesting that he may be some kind of conduit for Improbability, rather than sponge, as most mutated Humans on the Island are.
19) Which is to say any.
20) Which he recommends only under the strictest of anesthetics for your patient and yourself.
21) And she is mildly aroused by it.
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harris.txt · Last modified: 2017/05/28 03:34 (external edit)