Realistic or Modern Kids with Knives CS

[Sylvio]

Lloyd

I've been broken down more than I can count. But my spirit has yet to be cracked

♡coded by uxie♡

coded by xayah.ღ

FIRST NAME: Lloyd
AGE: 40
GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cismasc | He/Him
FC: Bryan Danielson

Unbroken State of Mind.

He sighed as he stood in front of Helmsley—home sweet home. Was that even appropriate to say? In his mind, it was. He'd been all over North America with no rest and was now back in a familiar place. He walked up the stairs to the front door with his carry-on beside him and rang the doorbell. Immediately the door swung open and a maid took the carryon away.

"Hello to you too Iva." Llyod said cheekily. He knew the maid from when he was a boy, she made his bed and taught him how to disassemble a Glock. Even though she remained distant, Llyod did his best to make light of his situation. He was one of the 'OG's' as his younger siblings called him. Although he found it weird that he was called that, he was only 28. But being 28 seemed like the end of your life if you were a Caporetto killer. While he was staying in Yakima, Washington he got a call from one of his sisters that their brother was killed during a botched break-in. He was only 27. He could remember her sobbing and panicking from the other line and stayed with her until she could sleep that night. So yeah, he was an OG and had a reputation of setting an example for the others.

Of course, he had to go to daddy-kins for a performance review. He walked up the stairs to his dad's office and knocked three times.

"Who is it?" A man asked, his voice as graveled as usual.

"Llyod."

"Come in."

As he opened the door, he saw his dad typing away on his phone before he took a seat in front of his desk. Memories of this room were always some of the most tense. Lloyd pictured the first time he came back after he got caught by the cops Caporetto threw a pen that missed his head by a couple of inches.

"You've been a real smug asshole these past few months you know that?" Caporetto asked.

"What do you mean?" Lloyd of course knew what he meant. But this was his way of getting back at the old man for all the things he's done to him. He could see the look on the old man's face as he was seething with rage. He stood from his chair and stomped over to him. "You think you're a grown-ass man you can think you can do whatever you want in my house?"

"I thought I was here for a performance review." Not acknowledging his father's urge to scare him, which only made him snap. His father smacked him across the face and then grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to the floor.

"Here's your fucking performance review. You got a big fucking mouth, you keep using it and you'll end up homeless for the rest of your life." A cold and sinister voice, but they were only the ravings of a sick man. "Get the fuck out of my sight." He returned to his desk doing whatever he thought was more important while Lloyd walked out, annoyed, hurt, and pained.

He walked back down to the main floor and walked out to the backyard. He took a deep breath and exhaled with relief. He walked down the stairs, the sound of his shoes hitting the grass suddenly lifted a weight off of his shoulders. He made a steady pace for the woods that were behind the house. There was a hiking trail that he frequented whenever he had time out the basement.

The sun and in his face, the booming colors, the quiet. It was everything a man needed to feel like everything was okay. Caporetto used this trail a lot for his own personal use, he had groundskeepers who kept it up to date. But he never used it to the extent that Lloyd did. He was lucky never able to run into his father would probably make him do a survival exercise or whatever. But he never worried about that, he was now where he wanted to be. He still had his body and his senses, and he wanted to enjoy his gift for as long as he could.

Headcanons:
-Started a book club when he was 16, lasted for only 5 years.
-Vegan, but has no issues with his siblings consuming animal products.
-Sometimes smells of lavender.
-Invites you on a short walk only for the walk to be at least 2 hours.
-Has a history of torn muscles and ligaments.
-Wants his own vegetable and herb garden.
-"You should try to relax more."

 

[TobiornotTobi]

Gordon​

"Don't get hurt, by any means necessary."​

​

The Basics​

Name: Gordon
Age: 42
Height: 6'0
Weight: 187 lbs.
Gender: Male
Eye Color: Brown
FC: Fred Dibella

The Kickback​

The afternoon sun shined on Gordon as he guided his silver Ferrari 488 Spyder through the roundabout in front of Helmsley Manor. He stepped out of the convertible and quickly ascended the stairs to the double doors that led inside. After ringing the doorbell, Gordon looked up at the building. The manor use to be his home, where he resided with his 'siblings'. But when he came of a certain age, he was granted an accommodation of his own outside of the mansion. Chosen and bankrolled by Mr. Caporetto, of course, but an accommodation nonetheless. Now, Helmsley Manor was merely a place he periodically stopped by to conduct business. There was little connecting him to this place emotionally. Correction, little he would let himself be connected to. There were other adopted children he grew up with in the manor, who he befriended or and even called 'brothers' and 'sisters' at one point. But that was long in the past. After certain events had transpired, Gordon learned the hard way that the only person you could count on is yourself. Eventually, a male housekeeper answered the door.

"Gordon," The man greeted, making way for him to enter the manor. "What brings you here today?"

Gordon stepped inside. Skipping any pleasantries, he reached into his grey suit's inner pocket, withdrawing a manila envelope. "Is there any other reason I would be here?"

"Ah," The housekeeper responded, realizing why he had decided to pay a visit. He pointed behind himself with a thumb. "Mr. Caporetto is in the back, next to the pool."

Gordon passed the housekeeper without another word and proceeded deeper into the manor. Up ahead was the extensive kitchen, with enough space to prepare food for over 40 people at the same time. Not that the food's quality was any good while he reside here. That was how a lot of his thoughts regarding the manor went as he grew up. First, he was mystified by the size and beauty. As he got older, his wonder turned to fear and discomfort. The vast halls he used to roam about freely became restricted. Suddenly, he was only allowed to travel between that dreaded basement and his bed to recover from an exhausting day of training. Decades later, it was just another setting in the play that was his life.

Gordon lightly slapped the envelope against the palm of his hand as he walked through the kitchen. It appears that lunch was being prepared, as the room was packed with moving bodies and pots filled with boiling foods. After working his way past a couple of dietary staff, he approached a sliding door that led outside where the pool was located. It was a large one, complete with a diving board. A whole group of young adoptees were in the area, swimming around in the pool and jumping off of said diving board. Mr. Caporetto himself basked in the sun on a lawn chair next to the pool. He looked absolutely relaxed, wearing a dark blue polo shirt, white shorts and a pair of sunglasses on his face. In this state, he looked completely unlike the tyrannical brute of a man responsible for ruining the lives of countless people. And not just his wards. 'Caporetto's Killers', as they were all dubbed, had put many a person in a pine box on their patriarch's command.

Gordon had no problem interrupting this moment of peace. He wanted his visit to be brief, which required him to deliver the envelope as soon as possible. So with an intentionally loud clearing of his throat, Mr. Caporetto was interrupted and looked up to see Gordon. Taking off his sunglasses, the usual scowl reemerged on his wrinkled face.

He sat up in his chair and stared at Gordon expectantly. "There's only one reason why you would come to see me these days. So come on, let's have it."

As if you truly care, Gordon thought to himself. So long as you completed your assigned missions and provided the kickback, Mr. Caporetto could care less about you stopping by. Gordon set the envelope down in Mr. Caporetto's outstretched hand. Its contents were then exposed to the world via ripping the envelope and unceremoniously dumping them onto a small glass table next to Mr. Caporetto's chair. There were a couple of stacks of hundred dollar bills.

"From the Aufiero hit last week," Gordon explained. "The total was six thousand, so I brought your twenty-four hundred dollar cut."

He ran his thumbs through a stack while nodding his head. The story behind the payday was that a member of the Aufiero crime family had turned into a police informant after getting caught in possession of drugs. In exchange for a tidy sum of money, Gordon was to track down the turncoat and make sure he didn't speak to the authorities again. Or anyone, for that matter. Eventually, some poor soul will find his body inside a dumpster, a canary stuffed in his mouth as a warning to others about what happens if you try to cross the Aufieros.

For his fellow adoptees, delivering Mr. Caporetto's cut would be as simple as leaving the envelope with one of the housekeepers and going about your day, but Mr. Caporetto wanted Gordon to personally bring it himself every time. Gordon thought of it as yet another opportunity for his guardian to exert his dominance.

"Those Mafia types are savages, huh?" He commented as he continued to examine the money. "It's like clockwork, the way they put hits on each other. Which is great for business."

A maid stepped out from the kitchen, holding a platter with a glass of water in it. She delivered it to Mr. Caporetto's side, allowing him to take the drink from the platter. Before she left, he placed the envelope on it.

"Bring that up to my study and set it on my desk." Mr. Caporetto ordered. She nodded her head and returned inside.

"If that's all taken care of, I'm going to go now," Gordon declared. Not only did he want to get away from Mr. Caporetto, but the longer he stayed, the higher the chances that one of those kids would get his suit wet with a well placed cannonball.

His former guardian gestured to a lawn chair next to him. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Gordon sighed in resignation, knowing that the request was merely a thinly veiled command. He sat down on the edge of the chair, clasping his hands. Mr. Caporetto gave him a thin smile, as if he knew that Gordon hated staying longer than he had to.

"Listen, it may have taken a long time for me to say this, but I think I did a good job with you."

The younger man looked at him, trying to piece together what was going on. He knew Mr. Caporetto enough to know that wherever this was going, it wasn't going to end with a hug or a pat on the back. The only compliments that came from his mouth were directed at himself. Gordon played his cards close as usual and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"And when I say that, I'm talking about your training regiments and your upbringings. I mean look at you. I slapped, struck and yelled at you all your childhood, and here you are now. My personal pet, dropping gifts at my feet like a cat."

Gordon felt something stirring inside himself. But he would be damned if he would let this man get under his skin again. "Is this going anywhere?"

"You were part of my first batch, which meant what I learned from raising you lot, I could use on to the others. More specifically, I learned that the cheap camaraderie you kids built up was meaningless. I mean, you do have the scars to prove it."

Gordon was very close to letting his previous declaration go out the window. The scars were a very tense subject. But still, Gordon kept a poker face.

"There's someone I'd like for you to meet," The older man turned to the pool, where the younger adoptees were continuing to play. "Reginald! Get over here!"

Upon hearing his name being called, a younger child rose out of the water and half walked, half ran his way towards Mr. Caporetto and Gordon. His friends' eyes widened and they huddled together, wondering if he was in trouble or not. Gordon got a good look at the boy when he stopped next to them. He looked to be about 12 years old and had a head of curly, brown hair and tan skin. His body was thin and slender. It was clear he had yet to begin his time in the basement. He looked between Mr. Caporetto and Gordon nervously. The former raised a hand and reached for Reginald, who flinched and took a step back.
"Relax, kid, you're not in trouble," Mr. Caporetto assured him, beckoning him back and putting an arm around him. Reginald eased up a little. "I called him over because he's a lot like you. Or at least, like who you used to be."

Mr. Caporetto smiled innocently, but Gordon saw through it. And the realization made him narrow his eyes. Mr. Caporetto went on. "So I just wanted to ask him some questions. Those guys back there are you friends, right?"

A pang of dread broke through his defenses, sending shivers along his body. That question was the start of a chain of questions that he did not want to relive. He could see it now, a younger version of himself of the same age being stopped in the middle of an indoor game with his friends by Mr. Caporetto himself.

"Yes, fath--" A younger Gordon paused and corrected his course. "Yes, Mr. Caporetto."

"And you would do anything for these friends, right?"

Back in reality, Reginald smiled a little. "Yes, Mr. Caporetto."

"And they would do the same for you?"

This question prompted Reginald to pause. Gordon could only look on, hoping he gave the right answer.

The younger Gordon responded without hesitation. "Yes, I know so!"

The Mr. Caporetto of the past nodded to himself and gave Gordon a smile befor telling him to run along. Unbeknownst to him, he had just given his tormentor the fuel needed to make the next five years of his life a living hell. Back in the present, Reginald was about to give his answer.

"I...I think so," He said, unsure of his answer himself.

Mr. Caporetto pressed him. "You think so? Or you know so?"

Reginald gave his initial answer some more thought. "I know so. I care about there, so they care about me for sure!

That pang of dread struck again as Gordon watched Mr. Caporetto tousle Reginald's hair. "That's nice, real nice. Go on, you can head back to your friends now."

Reginald rushed off without another thought of the conversation he was just in. He ran to the edge of the pool closest to where his friends were and jumped back in, sending a plume of water spreading outwards. Mr. Caporetto still had that smile on his face. Slowly, it turned into a wicked sneer.
"I'm going to enjoy breaking him," He said, plainly. "Really, I will. Because deep down in there is a killer who will do anything to survive. There's one in all of us. You just have to push the right buttons. And that's what I do best. Isn't that right, Gordon?"

As soon as Mr. Caporetto turned around to take in in Gordon's guaranteed discomfort, the 36 year old got up and briskly walked away from the table and back indoors. From there it was a beeline straight for the front door. Someone was bidding him farewell, maybe a maid or something of the sort, but he could care less. All that mattered was leaving that cursed manor. Once he was back in his car, Gordon breathed a sigh of relief. He adjusted the mirror to get a look at his face. He was visibly sweating and breathing heavily. All those years of mental and psychological conditioning had taught him how to keep cool under pressure, to keep your emotions under control, but that man in there knew just how to get under his skin like nobody else could. Fitting, considering he was the architect off his pain.

Gordon took a couple of deep breaths. It was over now. He wouldn't have to deal with Mr. Caporetto for at least a week or two. Gordon started his car and drove out of the roundabout and towards the front gates. Time to return to the solitude of his home, where nothing and no one could burden him.

Headcanons​

• Gordon's upper body is adorned with a handful of major scars. He hates showing them off or talking about them, so he never wears anything short-sleeved in public.
• His wardrobe consists of suits, dress shirts, dress pants, and vests. Casual wear is almost non-existent.
• Is a terrible cook. Dinner at best is a boiled meat with salt and pepper sprinkled on, rice and vegetables.
• His primary hobby is building model architecture. Current build he's working on is the Seattle Space Needle.
• For the past two years, Gordon has been smitten with a woman named Cassandra who lives near his apartment. One of his innermost desires is to approach her, but he knows that if he was to enter her life, she would be in constant danger. So for now, Gordon has resigned himself to watching her from afar. But perhaps with the death of a certain patriarch, things could change.