[hider= Bahadur Farrukhsiyar Shiri] [table] [row][cell][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/QY3JpTx.png[/img] [hr][color=00aeef][code]5'8'' 140 lbs.[/code][/color][/center] [/cell] [cell] [h2]Bahadur Farrukhsiyar Shiri[/h2] Age: 37 Gender: Male Citizenship(s): Indian Date and place of birth: [indent]28 February 2023, Ghazipur, India [/indent] Official occupation: [indent]Food Delivery Driver[/indent][/cell][/row][/table] [sub][h2][u] [b]P[/b]rofile [/u][/h2][/sub] [indent] [b]Residence[/b]: Greater India Apartments, Dhaar [b]Affiliation[/b]: The Uzbek Mafia [b]Appearance[/b]: Bahadur looks like a figure out of some cyberpunk parody setting, with just how awfully contrasting his appearance is. His face, settled upon an oblong head, is gaunt and sunken, like a date left under the sun for far too long. His nose bends inwards in a curve with a protruding tip that’s canted slightly to the right; his eyes are large, intimidating and expressive, and he often uses eyeliner to further enhance them. His skin is that of a sickly olive color, and his eye color is also similarly a very dark green. His hair color is black, although parts of it have begun to lose color, sending grey streaks throughout. Having to adhere to the common rules of the poor society, Bahadur’s hair is long (shoulder length) and completely unkempt, although this is also partially to hide the fact that he is balding heavily. He has a short, thick beard that curls inwards, yet to begin graying as heavily as his hair, and he twirls his mustaches to give himself a more intimidating look. When in ‘business’, Bahadur gathers his hair in a ponytail and tucks the ‘tail’ under the back of his jacket to keep his hair from distracting him or give any opening to would-be foes. Despite his military service, Bahadur definitely is not a physically intimidating figure – he’s not tall, at about 5 foot 8, sickly thin and narrow shouldered. While his muscles are familiar with excruciating labor and exercise, malnourishment, bad living conditions and an overall unhealthy lifestyle have kept them from developing. Being a criminal from the slums, Bahadur’s clothing manages to be gaudy and extravagant, yet cheap and makeshift at the same time. If he isn’t wearing baggy, loose tracksuits underneath a leather vest, you can often find him in ill-fitting, discount suits from sweatshops, whose owners are happy to let go of their almost hundred year old surplus. Zoot suits, coats, bell bottom pants, Cuban heels and disco shirts colorful enough to induce epileptic fits make up the backbone of Bahadur’s ‘fashion’. [b]Background[/b]: Like most people hailing from India, Bahadur was also doomed to poverty at birth. Born to parents of Pakistani descent, his father Hafez was a barber, while his mother Gulnoor worked in a textile factory. Bahadur was the second child of the family, which meant that, while he wasn’t as busy as his brother Massoud, he still had to do work to take care of his three younger siblings. Living a double life of school at day and work at night until high school (upon finishing high school he would end his education and begin working full time), Bahadur worked alongside his mother, although the factory was closed when he was 18, at which point he found work as a street food vendor, selling samosas and biryani prepared by her mother. After the youngest child of the family died of dysentery, Bahadur’s mother Gulnoor had a stroke which left her paralyzed from the waist down. His mother no longer able to produce food for him to sell, Bahadur went back into the textile business, although after an argument with one of his bosses that ended in a fight, he drifted unemployed for some weeks. One day, during a family meeting, he overheard one of his uncles brag about how his son had joined the military and was making lots of money as an officer. His pride hurt by the comment, Bahadur himself joined the military soon after for the monetary benefits. Feeling a degree of impotence because of his small stature in the Army, Bahadur applied to become part of the Ghatak Commandos to prove his worth and get further economical benefits (rumors about how those in the Ghatak were given muscle enhancing drugs may have also played a part). He succeeded – just barely, and in the Ghatak the contrast between him and his fellow soldiers more apparent. This would not last long, however; the brutal and constant training regime quickly bonded everyone closely, despite the uncountable amount of differences between each and every one of them. Bahadur would serve in the military for almost fifteen years, and get deployed in a Pakistani border skirmish in 2048 and the Assamite Insurgency of 2050-2053, never seeing live combat. Despite the rather monotonous and tiring life, the feeling of providing well for his family helped, there was the prestige of being in the military, and life in the barracks certainly gave him much more orderly life standards. However, he was also estranged from his family, and left far away from his life as a civilian. He would learn of his sisters’ marriages and his father’s death through phone calls, and his brother Massoud getting promoted and moving to Delhi with his younger brother from a letter. After getting discharged because of a fractured arm at the age of 34 (yet another source of frustration and resentment), Bahadur left for Delhi to find Massoud. Now an assistant manager in a technology store, Massoud was doing quite well for himself. Caring for their mother and funding their younger brother Ahmad’s engineering degree, Massoud received his brother somewhat distantly – while he himself was glad to have him around and appreciative of what Bahadur had done for them, he had to house his wife’s family, his mother and his brother in the same house, and his wife’s mother Humaira certainly did not want Bahadur around her other children. He offered to find housing and maybe a job, but Bahadur refused. Bahadur did not hold his brother in contempt for his situation in Delhi, and moved back to Ghazipur where he had spent most his life, but found it much different – their house had been long sold and a mall had been built where their neighborhood had once been. Finding his past demolished and his memories long buried under concrete was much more depressing for Bahadur than being unable to live with his family. After meeting an amicable lad named Jahan, who claimed to be an old neighbor of his, Bahadur quickly found in him a business partner, and reentered the biryani business with a food cart attached to a three wheeler. Jahan was a smart boy, if not somewhat naïve. Despite Bahadur not remembering him at all and thinking of him as nothing but a lonely young figure in a bad position that needed someone to do business with, and saw Bahadur as no more than a suitable candidate, he appreciated having someone around. Jahan was good with numbers, good with people too; thanks to him striking a few deals, the two could buy rice for biryani cheap, and Bahadur used what he remembered of his mother’s recipe to entice customers. After six months, however, Jahan approached Bahadur with a proposition. He claimed that one of his uncles had set up an actual shop in Sopahn, and that he had contacted Jahan, saying that they could work with him. If Bahadur were to agree, then the two wouldn’t have to work in the streets anymore. Not wishing to keep Jahan in the gutter with his unwillingness to move on, Bahadur accepted, and the two left Ghazipur for Sopahn in pursuit of the Indian Dream. Sopahn was really no better. Bahadur and Jahan found themselves working in a shitty food joint, with Jahan’s uncle using his family ties and the fact that ‘he brought them here’ as an excuse to emotionally blackmail them whenever they would try to complain about anything. Bahadur was annoyed, but they really had begun making more money, so he kept quiet and waited for better days. But their improving condition didn’t last long; Jahan was electrocuted to death trying to fix the joint’s air conditioner, and Bahadur, blaming the uncle, broke a chair on the man’s back before leaving. Unable to pay for their old apartment, Bahadur moved to an even shittier housing project in Dhaar called the Greater India Apartments, a place which was, like most things made for the poor, replete with nationalist themes. Bahadur began looking for sweatshops to work in again, but with just how quickly Sopahn developed, it was impossible to find any that could compete against automated factories. Believing that he was doomed to wither here in Sopahn, Bahadur quietly resigned to his fate in the housing project, living off cheap food and waiting for his money to run out. In one day not unlike the others, Bahadur found one of his neighbors getting beat up by some shady looking types, and in a moment of shining conscience, he asked them to stop, at which point the three thugs turned on him. What would have been a merciless beatdown for Bahadur was cut short when he smashed a bottle on one thug’s head and stabbed another with the broken bottle. Caught unaware, they ran away, screaming bloody murder, demanding revenge. Bahadur wasn’t exactly sure what to think of, but the fellow he saved from a beating quickly beckoned him to come. He would learn that the fellow getting beat up, named Patel, was not exactly innocent, that he was one of the ‘Wheelers’ – practically an underfed slum gang based in the Greater India Apartments, named such because of the symbol of the housing project, and that the fellows that he’d had chased off were affiliated with a rival gang called the Aprons. Apparently, Patel had been peddling illicit goods and drugs in Apron territory, and that they’d caught him red-handed. Going to the police was out of the option for Bahadur, since that would mean that he’d have to leave again, and he practically had nowhere else to go. He decided to stay his ground. The entirety of the Aprons came barging in pick-ups a few days later, about a dozen of them with cleavers in hand, looking for Bahadur and Patel. Wheeler presence that day was practically nonexistent aside from a panicking Patel hiding in his balcony. Bahadur deduced that the gang had written him and Patel off as acceptable losses – which was obviously not acceptable for him. Preparing a Molotov cocktail and grabbing a bread knife, Bahadur ambushed three of them when they finally broke into the adjacent room, and after stabbing two and throwing the other down the window, he threw the Molotov cocktail downstairs at the most well-off looking target, setting him aflame. Having killed the Aprons’ leader and having dispersed their assault, Bahadur immediately grabbed Patel, and after finding a car key on one of the bodies, shoved him into the sole remaining car, saying that either Patel would find a way to get him out of this mess, or that he would beat the shit out of him and throw him off in front of the police station. Patel decided to help, or at least throw Bahadur into the territory of bigger fish and get away, and led him to an Uzbek mafia leader who ran a tandoori store, a man named Babur. Babur was unwilling to listen to them at first, but after receiving news of the commotion in the Greater India Apartments and learning that it was Bahadur that caused it all, he decided to offer them a meal and hear their story. Impressed with his competence, Babur decided to help Bahadur by letting him lay low in a safe house for a while, although, he warned that, in exchange for Babur’s protection, he would have to ‘handle some business himself’. Bahadur accepted. The two years that followed were good for Bahadur. He found a job as a food delivery driver, moved back into where he used to live in the Greater India Apartments (with the Wheelers either gone or too afraid to show their faces), and also made earned somewhat of a reputation for himself in the criminal underworld of Sopahn, being at the centre of rumors tied to the Shootout in San’s Disco alongside other things. He’s not sure if the Indian Dream was meant to be this, but nonetheless, violence has done nothing but bring him closer to heaven. [b]Outlook and Motivations[/b]: Bahadur could be called a confused individual – for him, life has progressed in such ways that he has been unable to form a mindset or any sort of ideological outlook, believing that he was too busy working to ever have a chance to think about things or form any sort of opinion. This has led to a very spontaneous, although in the end obedient personality, often acting in the heat of the moment unless asked not to. Having lived in rags for most of his life, Bahadur appreciates the comfort that power has brought to him, and lacking any understanding of human rights, cannot see the ‘illegal’ in illegal activity. He is a decent man, but this does not mean that he obeys the law – his only moral compass is an understanding of ‘decency’. For Bahadur, shooting a man is not something indecent, nor would he hold a grudge against someone who’d shoot him – but in comparison, insulting someone’s family, lecherousness, or a lack of charity are not decent things. Other things he just sees as part of the cycle of life, which is brutal due to its very nature. Having spent his entire life to provide something for either himself or family, Bahadur is motivated only by comfort or luxury. His political opinions form only when politics seep into his life. If the building that he lives in was to be demolished, he would immediately side with the opposition, no matter what the reasons could be for it. He does not care for the world, the future, or other cultures. If anything, he’s somewhat xenophobic and afraid of the constant change that all these foreigners seem to bring. [/indent] [sub][h2][u] [b]C[/b]apabilities [/u][/h2][/sub] [indent] [b]Language(s)[/b]: Urdu, Hindi [b]Skills[/b]: [b][u]Cook:[/u][/b] Bahadur has memorized his mother’s recipe and knows how to cook a mean biryani, and he’s also pretty good at making lamb korma. Thanks to his sensitive mouth and good taste, he can easily add flavor to his limited knowledge in cuisine. [b][u]Quick:[/u][/b] Bahadur is known for the speed at which he handles things. He thinks fast, acts fast, and is also very quick on his feet. He prides himself on this, and is not unwilling to get unconventional, dirty and 'out of the box' to solve problems even faster and make up for his small stature when necessary. [b][u]Commando:[/u][/b] Bahadur has served with the Ghatak Force for fifteen years, having gone through tons of grueling training and constant drill. He has basic wilderness survival skills and knows how to operate and maintain certain firearms, has a good conceptual grasp of close combat, climbing and stealth, and is also a quite good shot and a quick draw. [b]Flaws[/b]: [b][u]Not Left Handed:[/u][/b] Bahadur, having almost crippled his left arm, cannot extend it wholly for long amounts of time, and doing anything quick means it’s going to hurt like hell. Holding onto things with his left arm or throwing punches are bound to leave him sore in the morning. [b][u]Scrawny:[/u][/b] Bahadur does not bend easy under pressure, and he recuperates quickly, but he’s easy to uproot. With his unfit stature, bad arm and short height, he can get thrown around quick, and cannot lift heavy objects off the ground easily. [b][u]Small World:[/u][/b] Bahadur has a small world and has no opinion of what’s going on outside it, and in fact actually avoids it. Any sign of important change unnerves him – the sight of skyscrapers, tilt-rotors and the upper classes can be downright terrifying, and he has an innate dislike for Westerners and the higher classes. [b]Connections[/b]: [list] [*]Mirza Muhammad Babur, Owner of the ‘Bagh-e Babur’ Restaurant, prominent figure in the Uzbek Mafia [/list] [b]Accomplishments[/b]: [list] [*]Service in Indian Army, 2043-2057, Honorable Discharge as Naik (Corporal) [/list] [b]Crimes[/b]: [list] [*]Murder x12 (suspect for two) [*]Breaking and Entering x2 (not prosecuted) [*]Bodily Injury x3 (not prosecuted) [/list] [/indent] [sub][h2][u] [b]I[/b]nventory [/u][/h2][/sub] [indent] [b]Cash, saving and debts[/b]: [list] [*]R2000 in Cash, hidden in apartment [/list] [b]Tools and weapons[/b]: [list] [*]Ishapore .410 Enfield Shotgun Conversion (not on person) [*]Hi-Power Centennial 9x19mm Pistol, unlicensed (gift from the Uzbeks) [*]Bear Spray [*]Switchblade [*]Windproof Lighter [/list] [b]Electronic devices[/b]: [list] [*]Portable Signal Jammer [*]LG Cellphone [/list] [b]Apparels[/b]: [list] [*]Leather Vest [*]Tracksuits and Polos at home and on business [*]Cheap suits when on ‘business’ [/list] [b]Credentials and ID cards[/b]: Citizenship ID, Delivery Service Card, Firearms License [b]Jewelry and valuables[/b]: Mechanical Watch [b]Consumables[/b]: Miswak Chew Stick [b]Load bearing equipment[/b]: None [b]Illicit goods[/b]: None [b]Vehicle[/b]: Auto Rickshaw [b]Pet and animals[/b]: Caged Budgie (At Home) [b]Other[/b]: A Phonebook [/indent] [/hider]