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Everything will blow, tonight-

Either friend or foe, tonight.

Created on 2006-01-17 03:43:34 (#9279333), last updated 2006-04-29

248 comments received, 228 comments posted

Basic Info
Name:Gun
Location:Toronto, Canada
Website:God and Man RP
Bio
    It's going down:

Character: Gun
Series: Original Character
Age: 25, or something around there, he's not quite sure...
Class: Lower
Character Type: Jack of all trades. He runs a shop in the east end with his uncle.


Appearance:
6'3. Black. Around two fifty, but he's not the type to pay much attention to his weight. Heavily muscled- a wall when necessary. Sledgehammer fists and a barrel chest, he looks about as 'don't fuck with me' as possible.


Personality:
Gun is, at face value, an easy going guy. He laughs a lot, grins a lot, slouches and scuffs at the floor. He's dependable, and known through most of the lower levels as the kind of guy you want to have at your back- not going for it. He's trustworthy, as far as that goes underground, and is considered a bit of an oaf at times. He keeps up his appearance well- good ol Gun, won't hurt nobody not nobody Gun, runs a kitchen with his Uncle, what a good kid, what a good young man, what a good guy.

He understands very well how important it is for appearances to deceive.

Gun is a nice guy in a world with very few nice guys. This isn't to say he's a pushover. Its more that very few people manage to push past his buttons and checks and balances, because if they do and push him too far, they rarely get to complain about it on account of being inexplicably dead.


In the Game:
Gun runs a store with his Uncle, and works as a bouncer nights for a stripclub. The store is also a takeout place, and the food is good and filling- a great draw to those a little down on their luck, because for word off the street Gun will always set you up with a bowl of sommat and maybe that'll get you through another day, at least.

His place is a regular stop for street kids as well, since he's willing to patch up injuries and feed faces for whatever the kids have dug up that week- people don’t pay attention to kids, and they hear things they shouldn't.
Word gets around about him, too. Kids talk about him cause, if you got a bit of trouble and need to lie low, or need a bite or two, well, he ain't half bad. And if you're hiding and willing to work for the space, he can put you up for a night or two, s'long as you don't mind sleeping on the floor. And what's really weird is he ain't gonna touch you- which is expected, accepted, here- and that has a lot of people, not just the kids, scratching heads.

He's painfully self-taught, so he'll misquote literature and use the wrong words, sometimes. His accent is self developed, half intentional and for survival, half street slang and slurring. He's got a good head for numbers, and keeps a few betting pools to the side.


Background/Drabble:

Four and he's already alone in the world. Lower levels aren't always as cruel as people think. There are schools and charities and orphanages and churches. Somehow, for some reason, there are more 'houses of god' in the lower levels than the middle and upper combined. (And yet do not confuse these with houses of prayer, where the starting rate is 10 bucks and for that you ain't getting no promise our girls are clean).

Seven and he's already on the streets – he can't take the chaos and noise and petty malice and despair in the orphanage. He's not alone, and kids eke out their livings as best they can, easier to get charity from the weak-willed when you're small and pitiful (don't pity they'd slit your throat for a sandwich).

He's starving, they're starving, and he caves and tries to do what none of them have attempted yet. He breaks into a store in the middle of the night, desperate and still unused to the real world. The sharp retort of a gun surprises him – moreso the blossom of pain and the slick wet that's his blood and he screams because he's still a child and terrified and he's going to die and he doesn't want to die.

The world has dealt him a better hand. The shopkeep feels guilt for harming a child. He's lost his own son but a year back and the pain is still there so he patches the child up and allows him to stay – only until he heals, they both agree. The boy finds clean clothing and good food and a roof over his head appealing – but he's drawn even more to the silence and the stability and the easygoing laugh that hide a fierce protectiveness and a mean hand with a firearm.

A month becomes two becomes four becomes six and neither will admit they have grown used to one another's company. A group of toughs appear and choose him as their plaything and the shopkeep warns them away before he has anything more than a split lip. That evening, when the thugs return and the man falls before them, he stands at the foot of the stairs and four shots explode into the night.

There's never any mention of the boy leaving after that, and the streets christen him anew. Gun. Fitting and a constant reminder.

He likes it.

---
He saved Amen's ass a while back, and now they're good buddies.
Anko's a friend of his, he just wishes she'd keep her hands out of his pants.
He's worked for and with Sid, and though they might not be best buddies, they respect one another.
Amadeus and he got off to a rocky start, but he seems to be a decent guy.
Hughes and Komui? Those two remain to be seen...



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