If I may...

[hider=My Character]

[center][i]"So, what you got for me?"[/i]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/ed/64/cced64563201ba5808cb4611ff58bab8.jpg[/img]
[i]"Yeah, yeah.  All hail the fuckin' emperor."[/i]
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[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240115/04d810777ccd6b28ee55be813ac14d2d.png[/img]
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https://youtu.be/FIqPrn8vjFI?feature=shared[/center]

[hider=CHICAGO POLICE DEPT. CASE FILE 776230]

[b]Name:[/b]
Nero Castigionie Jr.

[b]Age:[/b]
34

[b]Sex:[/b]
Male

[b]Physical Description:[/b]
Caucasian of Italian descent.  Stands at 6'0'' and weighs around 189 lbs.  Athletic build.  Arms covered in tattoos of various origins, most of them gang-affiliated.  Tattoos on his back and chest as well.  Dark brown hair, short and often slicked back.  Dark brown eyes.  Scars on his upper torso, left shoulder, right cheek, and right forearm.

[b]Element:[/b]
Air

[b]Occupation:[/b]
Captain of the Castigione Crime Family

[b]Personality:[/b]
Brash, vulgar, hot-headed, sarcastic, cynical, self-righteous, absolutely cold towards his enemies, not afraid to get his hands dirty...or bloody, rarely shows his softer side, values honor and loyalty above all

[b]Background:[/b]
*TAPE 276-B - CASTIGIONE, NERO*

TRANSCRIPT:

*lights up a cigarette and takes a drag* 

[i]"Look, I'm a busy guy, so let's get this over with.  I was born here in Chicago, the youngest of three boys.  My oldest brother Antonio is currently serving life in prison for murder and my other brother Francis, God rest his soul, died from drugs in 2011.  That just left me.  My mom passed away from cancer in 2015, not that I remember much of her because she and Pops split back in '01 when Pops got caught bangin' the maid.  Either way, she's dead.  What you gonna do, huh?

So...as for my Pops, well you oughta fuckin' know by now who he is, Nero Castigionie Senior, head of the Castigionie Family, or "the Boss" as he likes to be called.  He's an arrogant, fat, womanizing piece of shit and he's also the second most powerful man in Chicago next to, I don't know, the fuckin' governor of Illinois.  Anywho, with Tony locked up for life and Frankie six feet in the ground, he figured it was up to me to be his successor.  At first, it didn't sit right with me.  I tried to get out of the life and live normally, but bein' the son of a mob boss, that's pretty tough.

*pauses and takes another drag*

I left Chicago back in 2014 and joined the Army just to get away for a while.  You thought life on the streets was tough?  Shit!  Afghanistan made it look like a walk in the park!  I saw some nasty shit over there, but I was used to it, you know.  I didn't come home fucked up like the rest of those guys, but I still had dreams about it.  Ain't the first time I saw a guy's head get blown off his shoulders or a fuckin' kid with a grenade blow himself up.  Blood is blood, if you ask me.

Anyway, I took some shrapnel after our lead humvee blew up during a routine patrol in Kabul, an IED they called it.  I lived, but the rest of my guys were dead...there were pieces of them everywhere I looked.  They patched me up and sent me home, gave me a Purple Heart.  I was discharged and came back to Chicago after serving four years.  By that time, our family had beef with the whole goddamn city.  The Russians and the Irish were muscling in on our turf.  Then you had these other mamalukes, the Valentino Family, tryin' to get in on the action.  Pops needed help, so reluctantly, I stepped in.  I never cared much for the guy, but he was still my father.  You have to respect your family, you know.

*Takes another drag, then crushes his cigarette in the ashtray*

So me and the boys drove out the Valentinos after we whacked their boss and a few of their made guys.  Pops was impressed, to say the least, and made me a captain right off the bat.  There I was again, back in the life...for good this time.  I can't complain.  Bein' made has its perks, but you still gotta watch your back every fuckin' day.  If it ain't the Russians or the fuckin' Irish I'm dealin' with, then it's the CCB breathin' down my neck.

Oh yeah, that reminds me.  The bendin' thing.  I don't know what you call it: a power, a gift?  I call it a fuckin' curse.  I didn't know I had this ability 'til I was in the sixth grade.  There was this big fat kid, Charlie I think his name was.  Real fuckin' ugly kid, lotsa freckles on his face, had red hair so you knew he was a piece of shit.  Anywho, this kid would always fuck with me every day after school, so's finally I had enough.  Now I wasn't big by any means, not like I am now.  I was probably around ninety to a hundred pounds back in those days, real string bean.  So one day, fatso throws a mean hook and busts my fuckin' head open.  He's on top of me punchin' me while his two fuck buddies are behind him eggin' him on.  I don't know what happened then, but somehow, I threw this fat fucker all the way across the street and into a fence.  His friends took off runnin' and I just sat there blown out of my mind.

Oh the kid, Charlie?  Yeah, he lived, but he didn't fuck with me anymore after that.  Neither did his two shit-heels.

Anyway, what I do remember is it felt like the wind just picked up all of a sudden, like a huge gust of air just lifted this kid right off me, and it felt like it came from my hand.  I was weirded out by it, to be honest.  I thought I was some kind of freak.  I ran home and told my Pops.  At first, he didn't believe me, but when I showed him, he laughed, 'Look at that, fellas!  My boy's a fuckin' superhero!'

It was cool, you know, to think of it that way.  Well...unfortunately the CCB didn't think so.  I remember when those guys came into Chicago, Pops was freakin' out.  He told me under no circumstances to use this...power of mine, so I kept it hidden.  There were some times I did use it, mainly to fuck some guy up real good or make his buddies shit their pants, but I made sure the boys kept their mouths shut about it, lest they wanna give the old man a heart attack or end up floatin' in trashbags down by the docks.

I've managed to lay low for a while now, just doin' business for the family here and there, but the heat's ampin' up every day.  Sooner or later, I know these bastards are gonna get me.  When they do, they're gonna have hell to pay, cause I don't go down without a fight.

I sometimes wonder if there are others like me out there that have these bendin' powers, if they're scared the CCB's gonna nab them too.  Maybe we oughta band together and show these assholes who they're fuckin' with, but then again, they probably got some kind of technology shit that can neutralize your powers.  Always gotta have kryptonite when Superman comes knockin' at your door, right?

Well anywho, I've said enough.  Can I go now, or are you gonna bother me with more questions?  Hurry it up, cause I don't like waitin' around.  I got places to be and shit to do."[/i] 

*TAPE END* 

[b]Miscellaneous:[/b]
Drives a black 1968 Chevy Impala SS around the city and is always carrying his custom-engraved Beretta 92 FS Inox and a switchblade knife.  Under the back seat of the Impala is a compartment holding a Benelli M4 Super 90 shotgun, a Sig Sauer MPX, M67 fragmentation grenades, and a military-grade survival machete.
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