PRETTY HATE MACHINE.
— 𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑻 !!
WYTT, M?
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PRETTY HATE MACHINE.
— 𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑻 !!
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
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birth of venus
𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙.
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birth of venus
𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙.
MISAKO ONO
# chicago
# fc : yuka mannami
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Elizabeth Patricia Hurley
#The Cutthroat
#karen gillian
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lisbeth
𝑠𝘩𝑒'𝑠 ⠀ 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩...
𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙋...
The Curator || FC: David Brühl
The Curator || FC: David Brühl
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Cosmo
Does Not Know Kung-fu
FULL LEGAL NAME
Samuel Wayne Moore
KNOWN ALIAS(ES)
Sam/Sammy
StompDaGit [Gamer Tag]
Night Light/Vigil [Aliases]
The Point Break, Poindexter
AGE
28
GENDER
Male
SEXUALITY
Heterosexual
PLACE OF BIRTH
South Bend, Indiana [USA]
ETHNICITY
Irish-American
SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S)
English and Binary
FACE/VOICE CLAIM
FC: Colin Morgan | VC: Ezra Miller
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HAIR
Eyebrow length, curly dark brown hair that is entirely unkempt and looks like the man is just perpetually rolling out of bed.
EYES
Almond blue eyes under thick, but short brows that fade away at the edges. At the corner of his eyes, crows feet from stress and lots of squinting at computer screens in the dark have started to make themselves known. A bit far-sighted and requires glasses to see things clearly up close or when using a computer.
PHYSIQUE
A very thin, lanky ectomorph build that looks like a strong gust of wind can pick him up and carry him off, in fact, Sam is fairly confident that he could even be mistaken for a kite in such a circumstance. While a bit on the taller side at 6'2, if Sam turned sidewise he'd near disappear with such a lack of muscle definition, someone could probably play his ribs like a metallophone.
SCARS
Bottom most left rib is a bit further away from the rest having broken but never set probably to heal. A small divot in his right shin where he fell on his bike and tore a chunk of flesh and bone out as a child. On both his thighs, an old puncture scar is prominent, both scars have a matching one on the bottom of his thigh, where the metal spikes exited.
PERSONA
Timid || Brilliant || Rigid || Patient || Obsessive || Sweet
Sam is a very timid man and is certainly not what people think of when they think 'assassin'. He doesn't have a lot of courage or self-confidence, he isn't good at dealing with people or sudden situations that pop out at him and tends to fumble over himself when these happen. While he may crack a joke, often at his own expensive, that is more of a coping mechanism then any effort to bond or communicate with those around him and all it takes is one stern look to get Sam to shut up and avoid eye contact. He is fairly easy to 'bully' into submission as Sam will always avoid physical confrontation, and pain, whenever possible almost like a beaten dog that lowers itself to the ground to avoid being seen and make itself so small it almost disappears into the rug. This timid man hides something though, an utterly brilliant mind. Sam is always the smartest person in whatever room he is in even if he rarely shows it. He is capable of seeing how things will play out, plan every step ahead with a meticulous oversight that is incredibly unnerving, at least, when he isn't in a state of absolute panic he can do so. He is always ready with a qip or joke even if the only person that will ever hear them is himself because the last thing he wants to do is lose some teeth because he said the wrong thing to a guy who dumped all his stats into the bench press. Complex situations and problems are easily untangled and made sense of, plans of action and attack, each step crafted and pondered over, each point and angle mused to perfection in his mind, often, instantaneously... This large brain is often its only companion as its rare for Sam to meet someone that can give him any sort of mental stimulation, at least, in real life.
A very rigid man, Sam likes his life orderly, he likes his stuff exactly where he has it, where he has mentally categorized it. He likes his daily routines, the simple repetitive actions that make up his existence and abhors when that ritual is disturbed. While he can come up with extreme, and competent, plans, he can't really do so when under pressure from a sudden, unforeseen force. He is anything but adaptable, he needs somewhere he can be 'safe' and 'calm' to really process what he has seen or done. He is a man that can create a device and plan that will have a target found dead in their closet, hanging at the neck with no signs of what caused it outside of suicide. Yet someone randomly speaking to him at the line at Starbucks will leave him completely puzzled, flustered and off balance for an hour or so afterwards. He likes his world to line up with how he has set it, with how he expect it... With how it should be. His patience is both his strength and weakness in this is regard. Sam will wait for the perfect plan or the perfect strike. He will examine and watch his target, his opponents, find their weaknesses, their strengths, analyze and make up a plan of attack.. And his patience is extreme to the point many will think he has forgotten about them, or the issue, until its too late and they find themselves caught up in his schemes... But he can often be too cautious, thinking a situation is too risky or a better one can come later. In some ways, he is less an assassin and more a hunter, or even, a fisherman, waiting peaceful at the shore for an unsuspecting fish to take the bait and dance at the end of his string completely unaware of what is happening... But sometimes, he waits so long for the perfect bite that the fish steals the bait and is gone forever.
A naturally dedicated man, Sam doesn't quit until the job is done to his exceptional standards... But this extreme drive can often lead to obsession. He can become obsessed with a job, with a plan, with a device, with a person and it can quickly become destructive and unhealthy. The two relationships he has had in his life have both suffered from this obsession as it made Sam willing to do almost anything to keep their affection, even if it never existed, to make them happy with him, want to stay with him... Even if it led to dark places that no sane person should ever have to tread. If Sam meets someone fascinating, someone he cannot explain or understand, he will research everything he can find about them to try and 'solve' them, to understand what makes them tick and why he can't figure it out. Sam will be loathe to harm or lose the object that has utterly captured his attention until he has 'figured' it out... sometimes, he will never figure it out and always be watching, thinking, observing, protecting the object of his fascination. The true great weakness of Sam is that he is.. a bit of a sweet heart. He likes taking care of others, likes looking out for them, likes to be useful and to feel valued for his efforts. He also doesn't like hurting others.
Which seems incredibly silly for an assassin to feel, but he takes no enjoyment out of making others feel pain which is why Sam always goes for the quickest, cleanest kills possible so that they don't suffer even if they are, or were, a monster of a person. It also leads into why he prefers to kill the way he does, from far away, through a screen. It feels less 'real', less 'personal' when its just pixels on a screen bleeding, calling for help, dying.. Its like a movie.. or a game. Its not.. 'real'.
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SPECIALIZATION(S)
Low Impact, Kinetic Operations
In a world of James Bond Assassins, Sam is MacGyver's nerdy little brother that never gets spoken of. Or, to be more precise, Sam specializes in assassination without ever having to be in the same room as them with the usage of bombs, traps, drones as well as various gizmos that he tinkers and creates for more specialized missions. His work is efficient and often very quiet and hard to trace back, although it isn't nearly as sexy and flashy as the work of his peers.
Cyberwarfare
A very skilled hacker, Sam is extremely adept at tracking and finding people through their digital footprint. Hacking cameras and personnel files to find people with face recognition algorithms or cornering people by shutting off access to their financial to make it easier to pin them down and find them. Through the use of small gadgets and drones, he has even become adept at hard jacking into closed circuit networks such as CCTVs. He is often also contracted to help clients 'disappear' from the grid or restart their lives should a false flag operation be needed.
OTHER SKILLS
Tinkerer
Sam is a natural tinkerer and engineer. He is extremely adept at making and creating things from small objects to small drones and innovative devices that he used to make money off of by selling the patents. Sam loves to create, loves to dream up inventions even things that he has zero means of producing himself and a lot of his best works comes when he is in the middle of a shower leading to him jumping out and sketching his idea down on a pad of paper he keeps in his bathroom for exactly that occasion.
DEFICIENCIES
Does Not Know Kung-Fu
Unlike the various master fighters and gun-fu users in their world, Sam is.. not one of those. He has no skill in combat and any fights he has been in as a child ended up with him curled up in a ball as they kicked him in the back. If he was being honest, a strong, angry middle schooler could probably knock his lights out. He also lacks muscle and physical strength, so he is not about to be overpowering anyone, he can barely open a jar of pickles [That's a lie, he cannot, he has to ask his neighbor].
Oh.. My.. God, They're Shooting At ME!
Sam has never been in a gun fight, he has never been in any life or death situations in which he had any control over. He has only shot a firearm a few times, at a firing range where his accuracy was.. Well, at least he hit the paper. Most of the time... A few times. Once... He doesn't know how to properly operate most guns in the heat of combat and what guns he owns he uses to arm drones and other inventions where he tinkers with them to get what he needs. A true firefight with his life on the line is likely to end with an extremely panicked Sam running in terror, or getting shot and dying, probably both.
You.. Uh... Come here.. Often?
To call Sam socially awkward is a vast understatement. He doesn't really 'do' personal contact well. Sam is easily intimidated, easily flustered, easily embarrassed and just.. is not experienced in dealing with people in a social setting, especially, in person. He is very easy to manipulate via using his discomfort against him.
DAY JOB
Does freelance coding and programming for various companies to earn a very nice living. He also works as a video editor [for pennies compared to what he makes in his freelance job] to a youtuber that he has a large crush on and admires from a distance.
RESIDENCY
A rather nice two bedroom apartment.
FREQUENT HANGOUTS
A shut in person, he prefers to live vicariously through his computer screen. Although he can be dragged out to bars or clubs by people he knows or, very occasionally, when the need to be 'outside' creeps up on him. He will go to the Continental on occasion but never really enjoys his stay. He doesn't 'fit' in well there and feels like a kid at their parents work.. Or a piece of trash that blew in the door.
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BIO
The Sheltered Child
Samuel is the second of three children, the lovely middle child, of Johnathan and Sarah Moore. Growing up, it was clear he was always just.. a bit less then his siblings. He was smart, clever, but his body.. less so. It wasn't long until even his younger sister, Kelly, younger by two years, was outrunning him, outwrestling him and otherwise establishing dominance along with their older brother, David. Sam just didn't have that natural talent they had, that aggressiveness, the charm and confidence that came naturally to them and seeing them and how they acted and flourished did nothing for his own self-confidence. Neither of his parents really tried to push him to succeed like they did with his siblings, they seemed almost content to let him do what he want even if it meant hiding mostly in his room and rarely coming out, after all, two outta three wasn't bad at all. It wasn't that his parents ignored him, or purposely ostracized him, in fact, they seemed to 'accept' him for the introvert he had become. They enabled his habits by getting him various electronic devices that let him tune out the world for hours at a time, to avoid his family, avoid life and enter a world where he could be anything and anyone, where he didn't have to be Sammy, the third wheel of success.
As he entered school, little changed. He was always in his siblings shadow, they did sports and after school activities, Samuel was very much in the 'go home' group. They even had better grades then he because while he was more intelligent, Samuel never applied himself to school work. He did not do homework, he did the bare minimum necessary to pass test or projects as he just didn't see the point of applying himself and, deep down, was terrified of the very real possibility that he could try, do everything in his power and still come up short. At least this way, he can convince himself that it was his choice to not apply himself and that, and that alone, was why they excelled where he did not. Throughout his years in school, he never had 'friends'. If there was one thing he was exceptionally good at, it was quickly making himself an outcast and outsider. The only place he felt he 'belonged' was online or deep into coding or tinkering on something. He felt like he belonged, was valued, had value, that he could actually 'accomplish' things. By the time he actually found out what he wanted to do, engineering, it was too late. He lacked the grades, activities and.. everything, to even hope to get into a school like MIT much less the scholarship to afford it. He attempted to go to a local university but dropped out after a single semester and moved back in with his parents. What bothered him the most, although he never said as such, was his parents never said a word. They didn't offer him words of encouragement, didn't offer words of comfort, didn't berate him for his poor choices or not finishing what he started, they accepted it as if it was expected. As if they knew all along their middle child would be living with them.. as he lacked that special something his siblings had in spades. Sam rarely left his room, preferring the solitude to the silence that he created whenever he was around. He taught himself how to code, taught himself how to write programs, taught himself engineering, everything Sam would know and use in his later, nefarious, career, he learned as a young, introverted man who never left his room. Not quite the illustrious, or drama, start that most others in his field of profession have.
Two years later, his father, Johnathan, passed away in a car accident and his mother sold the house and moved in with David. Sam tried to live with his brother, and his fiancé, too but the stifling silence, whenever he entered, the way they looked past and through him as if he wasn't actually there, a decoration that had to be put in the garage with the rest of last years ensemble. Sam earned a bit of money through helping people with coding and eventually finding a 'calling' in selling gizmos online. The gizmos and gadgets he created garnered a lot of attention and interest in the various online communities he participated in and, following the advise of random strangers on the internet, always a great thing to do, Sam took to patenting and selling the patents of his inventions to various companies, especially toy companies. Using his newfound finances, he leased an apartment where he... never really left, locking himself away as he had done so in his childhood bedroom growing up. Overtime, he lost contact with the rest of his family, not on purpose, just... found himself not really calling them and they... just doing the same. Since then, he gets a text message from his mother on holidays and a call from his mother on his birthday. His sister has recently started to email and text him more often, although he hasn't quite figured out why. He hasn't heard from his brother in years.
Meeting The Girl From The Wrong Side Of The Hallway
During his time in his new apartment complex, Sam made a 'friend'. Well, not really a friend, but an acquaintance. Someone who'd wave at him when he walked by, they even, occasionally, played a few video games together, online of course, never in the same room or place. The man's name was Lionel Parker and he was fairly charming and worked as a bartender. It wasn't long before a woman moved in with him, Miranda Raneri. She was... a whirlwind of energy. She constantly spoke to Sam whenever he left his room and always had a way of 'finding' him. A sixth sense that was attuned to his whereabouts at all times. She smiled, she flirted.. With him.. She was not something Sam was equipped at all to handle. Whenever she was around, he became flustered, he could barely speak and would try to get away as quickly as possible yet, the second he was out of her presence, desperately wish to be near her again. A confounding and confusing experience. He knew she was beautiful, he knew he was into her, but she couldn't be into him because he was him and she already had someone. But a part of him, a tiny part of him was happy... and was greedy for just a little bit more.
Their relationship dynamic changed forever on a stormy, Saturday night. A night he can never forget. The soft knocking on his door as if by a timid mouse ready to bolt if it opened too soon, a sobbing Miranda, wet from the rain, whispers about a break up, about needing a place to say, a few drinks, cuddles and then to his bedroom. His relationship with Lionel did not survive that night, but it didn't matter because he had Miranda now. He had someone. Someone that wanted him for who he was. Someone that would stay with him, someone that would need him like nobody ever had... For awhile, at least. Their relationship was find for a month or two and then it slowly started to change. Miranda would come home late, often tired or angry. She'd borrow money, more and more money every time but Sam didn't care, he gave what he could. Whatever it took to make her happy, to make her stay, to make her return the affection, and desperation for affection, he felt. It didn't matter that he knew she saw other men because she would always come back to him, and what was he going to do? No one else would ever take him, she had been the only one, she was the only one. She was going through a phase, if they could ride it out, it would all change. Surely. Whatever it took to validate and excuse it. To avoid having to face reality. His brilliant mind, so sharp and quick, purposely chained and ignored for the sake of ignorant bliss.
The needle marks on her arms, they were always there. Sure, they were more and more pronounced, but she was just going through a rough patch. He was there for her, as long as he continued to support her, continued to love her, continued to open his bedroom door whenever she was high and looking to score, whenever she saw the names of other men on her phone, or thsoe that came to his door looking for her... It was just a rough patch, one they'd get through together because he cared and this all was just proof of it... Surely it wasn't because he was desperate for affection, any kind of affection, now that a ghost, a whisper, of it had been dangled before him. It all came to a head on another stormy Saturday night. A heavy knock on the door, two large men in dark coats, a strung out Miranda carried in their arms. She had debt. Lots.. and lots of debt. Her turning of tricks and favors wasn't enough to cover it, nor was the money she took from him, he had to find a way to pay it. A real way. Sam tried to earn more and more money, tried to create more, tried to take more contracts and jobs, but it was never enough. Never enough to cover the debt. When the 'group' learned of his skills, they started to make him pay another way. He could 'erase' them, make them new identities, help them watch and observe people.. Help them find people.
It took a few months before Miranda passed. She overdosed in a bathroom at a run down motel along the side of the highway... and deep down, Sam was glad even as he hated himself for it. Hated himself for what he had become, what he had let himself become for her, what he had let her do, what he had let himself do... How he was glad to be free of her shadow. Part of him, the tiny part of him still desperate to be loved, likes to think she did love him, at least, a part of her did, but the logical part understands he was always just a bank to her. She left Lionel not because she liked him, but because he was easier to manipulate, like a puppy eager for a pat, and, more importantly, he had more income then Lionel. He had been a mark. Nothing more. He swore he'd never let it happen again, not like it mattered, the... association he now worked for wasn't going to let him go. Her 'debt' was now his 'debt' and it would last for however long he proved useful.
Like A Bee To A Honeypot
Without much of a purpose, Sam continued to 'exist'. He created, he tinkered, he worked off his 'debt'. In a strange way, he almost came to enjoy his new work. It gave him some level of control over his life, over his situation.. And it helped him become too valuable to lose. He even earned himself a nickname with the... group. The Point Break, Poindexter, not exactly the most flattering of names, but it was much better then the ones he was known by in high school. A year passed and Sam almost became 'comfortable' in his new life. The debt was often hung over his head and spoken about out loud, but the unspoken understanding was.. there was really no debt, they needed him and they paid him and he did the work for them. He was a part of their group, in a twisted way, but never truly. Even in the seedy underbelly of the world, Sam was an eternal outsider. It was then, as the wounds left by Miranda had scarred over, that Sam met her, Esmeralda.
The daughter of an underboss, she was beautiful, intelligent, funny.. utterly captivating. So beautiful it was almost painful to look at her. She never paid him much mind, which wasn't all that surprising, few people did, but Sam could not get her out of his mind. She was an enigma, a puzzle, a fascination he wanted to solve, so he started to look into her. Her various online profiles, what she liked, what she didn't like, who she was.. He wanted to 'understand' her and his fascination with her. Sam was well aware of how wrong it was to be doing what he was doing, but it was hard to not do it. Hard to be working and not just... open a new window on another screen and look through her photos, to read old post of hers, to uncover all he could about it... So lost in his new 'work', the tensions rising within the group went unnoticed by him. The 'Boss' had passed away in a hit, no one knew who had done it or why it had been done, but whispers persisted of it being an inside job. A way to open up a chance for 'new blood' to rise. A tinderbox waiting for a single match to light the flames. Then Esmeralda approached him. She smiled, she flirted, she spoke.. She made him feel special. Unique. When she looked at him, with those big green eyes, nothing else but the two of them existed. He knew he was being used. He knew she wanted something. When he was with her, he fumbled over his words, he burned hot like a tomato, he did what she asked, but the second he got home, he'd puzzle over her intentions, over what he knew of her, of her mother, of her ambitions.. He knew she was manipulating him but he didn't care. What could she possibly want from him that was so important?
It was different with Esmeralda then it was with Miranda. With Miranda, he had a desperate need to be loved, to be given affection, to feel needed... with Esmeralda, he was content just to be around her. It didn't really matter what they were doing, or not doing, he simply enjoyed her presence. She was a light in his life he never knew he needed, a source of human warmth and companionship he had never truly experienced. Sam kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to start seeing other men, for her to start asking for money or favors, but it never happened. It was going to happen, he wasn't as foolish as he had used to be, but he was foolish enough to just.. enjoy the moments of happiness he had, false as they were. As what always seemed to be the case, his world exploded on a dark, stormy night. Gunshots and explosions ripped through the city, firefights broke out in the streets as the 'family' tore itself to shreds and in his apartment, Sam was taken.
A group of five took him, the leader was a man Sam knew only be reputation, the torturer, the hitman.. The families personal executioner, Francis Laurent. Beaten and subdued, he was dragged to a 'safe' house. A small cement basement under a broken down warehouse, the dark, dimly lit blood stained room filled with the 'toys' of Francis. Tables, chairs, blades and other instruments of his profession, but what caught his attention most was Esmeralda, strapped to a chair, her clothing torn to shreds. Sam was put in a chair opposite her and the questioning began. Through it, Sam learned that the 'underbosses' of the family had started a civil war. Brought upon by Esmeralda's father, at least, the plans of her father that were discovered. The plans that had Sam as the key, central figure of it. Sam was... a powerful and dangerous man in the organization but he was so unassuming, so weak, no one had ever given it mind... No one but Esmeralda and her father. Sam knew where their safehouses were, he knew their drop points, he knew their codes, he knew where they stashed their money, he knew... Every thing he needed to know. With Sam's help, they could dismantle the entire family and raise their own up to the top without a single fuss. Esmeralda was to gain his trust, to offer him whatever it took, herself included, to see it happen and then, after it was done, Sam was to be killed too. But they had discovered the plans and now Esmeralda, her father and their power base was being eradicated.
Esmeralda did not deny the claims... Only the end. That things had changed, she wasn't going to let her father kill him, when he was ready, she was going to approach him and together, they'd take down her father to. Together they'd rule the whole thing. She as the head and him at her side. A team. A lie, of course, at least, that was what Sam believed. A last, desperate attempt to save herself. She never strayed from that line. That she cared for him, loved him. Even as they strapped her to a table and tortured her, water boarded her, she kept those bright green eyes he had fallen in love with on him. As she coughed and hacked, repeated the same lines... To be drowned again and again. Her eyes never stopped seeking his... And when Francis grew bored, he removed the cloth, poured the water and truly let her drown. Sam can still perfectly recall her face, the way her body convulsed and jerked under the binds, the desperate gurgled sound as the lungs fought for air, any air.. Until she stopped moving. Her open, green eyes void of life left to stare at him. Stare into his soul, an accusation of betrayal for his silence, for his cowardice, a plea for him to believe him... Or whatever else his heart desperately wished to be in them. Francis turned to him, to 'check his loyalty'. To ensure he truly wasn't aprt of the plan, Sam was dangerous, but necessary.. for now. Necessary to uncover all of the rats of Esmeralda's powerbase, to help purge them. It wasn't said, but the intent was clear, the second it was over, Sam would be taking a bullet in the back of his head. Two large iron spikes were driven through his thighs, missing both bone and major arteries. Jumper cables connected and then Sam was shocked. Again and again.. and again... and again. Until he could no longer remember how long he had been down there, as his body convulsed and twitched without control or mental command as Francis asked the same questions over and over again. Looked into his eyes, his tear ridden, broken eyes for the truth.. The truth that Francis knew but didn't care to know, the man enjoyed his work and liked to.. take his time when able. When Francis finally tired of him, the spikes were removed, his legs treated.. and then he was left there. In that dark basement, with Esmeralda still tied to the table just feet away, still looking at him with those dead, green eyes. Left alone with his misery and demons.
Never Forget Your First
When Sam returned home, he couldn't walk. His legs couldn't support him and wouldn't be able to for awhile, but something burned in him. Something he had never truly felt before, hate. It burned, it gnawed, it made him scream his frustration into the night, and his mind begin to plot and think... He started to tinker and create. Not for simple amusement, but to destroy. To hurt. To break the people that did this to him, to them. It was easy enough to turn the surviving bosses against one another, to leave just enough evidence to be conclusive but the trail too cold for anyone, even 'himself' to trace. He watched with a cold detachment as the bodies started to pile up in the alleys, but not the five. Not his five. They he kept alive. He manipulated them, kept them out of harms way, always 'just' outside of the fire fights, of the hits... They were his, and his alone.
The first, Ricardo, a grunt with a family. A 'career' criminal for the family. He worked hard, he paid his respects, he went home to his wife and daughter. A 'stand up guy' as far as the family was concerned. It was a great shame and sadness that Ricardo would die while watching his daughter's piano recital, choked on his own blood as his wife screamed for a doctor. The second, Missy, was a bit of a wild cat in the family. Dangerous, explosive temper who had a family who she supported with her work and a mistress she loved, that she kept on the side, safe and out of harms way... Was quite the surprise when her car detonated outside of the motel where she was to see her mistress. It was quite the wonder on how that explosive made its way into the gas tank and just a stroke of bad fortune it would go off at such a location, where her charred remains would be found by her lover. All Steffano had in the world was his father, a man suffering from dementia and in a care facility, so it came to little surprise when Steffano was found dead in his room, strung up in his closet shortly after his father passed. A sad thing, to be sure, but most didn't make it out of this life without some kind of emotional baggage, who could truly blame the man for clocking out early? Only shame was his neck didn't seem to break so the man slowly suffocated to death, explains why there was such a mess, poor fellow must have been flailing quite a bit. Marie was a hard worker and partied just as hard. She enjoyed a good smoke and a nice bottle of tequila here and there to destress, to really help her unwind.. Damn shame it would come back to bite her. How her entire apartment went up in flames must have just been bad luck. A little bit of spilled tequila on the bedspread, a dropped cigarette and its all over... Was a bit odd how Marie seemed to make no attempts to get out of the bed, even as the flames stripped her flesh from her bone, she certainly screamed loud enough to wake the neighborhood.. Just more bad luck.
Francis didn't think it was coincidence. Didn't see it as just 'bad luck'. The family was being exterminated. Cleared out. There was only one person who could track this killer, this ghost.. Sam. But Sam was gone. Vanished. His apartment was empty, his name gone, his family history turned to ash. It was as if Samuel Moore never existed at all, a figment of imagination, a conjuration of a fevered dream. Francis didn't put the pieces together, didn't suspect Sam, just thought the coward had ran off, erased himself and used it to escape the family and the killer... Came as quite the surprise when he got in that car accident and woke up in the hospital... More of a surprise when his family never visited. Quite the expression on his face when he returned home to an empty house.. Empty save for a single tv in the living room with an active feed playing. That of his wife and son, tied to chairs, a device ticking in the corner. Text crawled along the bottom of the screen, the device was counting his heart beat. In twenty four hours, his family would be killed. He could save them, all he had to do was go to the pier, alone, at night. Being the upstanding family man he was, Francis obeyed, pistol at the ready. Yet, no one was there, just another device with a lovely, well made sign that said 'play me' above it. Francis watched the video, his family still sitting at the same chairs, yet the words were different. Told him to put on the thick metal bracers that were located beneath device. If he did so, his family would be released. Francis, once again, did as he was bidden, but the second the bracers latched on, he was dragged off the pier, his body pulled against a wooden log, the bracers magnetically pulled to a metal band. His head submerged beneath the water, he tried in vain to hold on, to fight against it, and when he looked up, he saw him. Saw Sam. Looking down at him from the pier. His gaze didn't waver even as darkness overtook Francis, as his body stopped struggling, as he simply floated... A mere block away, the latch on a door opened and his family was released.
Sam... didn't know what he expected to happen. He thought he'd feel better. He'd feel vindication. Feel good. But he felt empty. His hatred for Francis had kept him going, his obsession with hurting them, with breaking them as they had broke him, had been his sustenance, but now they were gone.. and he was alone. Alone with his thoughts, with his actions... With his ghost. A week later he was contacted by representative for someone known as 'The Suit' who had a job opportunity for him up in New York. With nothing else holding him to this place, Sam left and started his new career, his more violent and bloody one and left his past to drown with Francis.
Theme Songs
X X X
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kaninchen
𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓮
FREYA ROTH
req.
pers.
hist.
misc.
♡coded by uxie♡
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Red_Titanium
The expert Dumbass
left
right
coded by natasha.
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a z u l a
these violent delights have violent ends.
♡design by erosful, coded by uxie♡
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blue-jay
a secondary antagonist
left
right
coded by natasha.
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idiot
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥.
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undeities
∘₊✧ ─ 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 .
....𝔠 𝔬 𝔫 𝔡 𝔢 𝔪 𝔫 𝔢 𝔡
....𝔠 𝔬 𝔫 𝔡 𝔢 𝔪 𝔫 𝔢 𝔡
....𝔠 𝔬 𝔫 𝔡 𝔢 𝔪 𝔫 𝔢 𝔡
....𝔡 𝔞 𝔯 𝔩 𝔦 𝔫 𝔤 𝔱 𝔬 𝔫
....𝔠 𝔬 𝔫 𝔡 𝔢 𝔪 𝔫 𝔢 𝔡
....𝔠 𝔬 𝔫 𝔡 𝔢 𝔪 𝔫 𝔢 𝔡
....𝔡 𝔞 𝔯 𝔩 𝔦 𝔫 𝔤 𝔱 𝔬 𝔫
mangomilk
big oof
left
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fin
"all i do is finesse, man."
left
right
coded by natasha.
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StaidFoal
:>
EDDIE THAYER
BEARRY, ED
Texan giant, sadistic brute, and former Red Room host.
(Left; FC: John DeSantis)
BEARRY, ED
Texan giant, sadistic brute, and former Red Room host.
(Left; FC: John DeSantis)
AGE: 46
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Heterosexual
PLACE OF BIRTH: Crockett, Texas
ETHNICITY: White
SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English
VOICE CLAIM: Eddie has a deep, raspy voice and speaks in broken English, stuttering and jumping through words. This, however, morphs into a loud, clear, charismatic gameshow host–esque voice of low pitch whenever Eddie delves into his more sadistic, ecstatic self; whenever he sees the chance to play with his victims and whoever else he can get his hands on.
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