[hider=Lê Bằng Kiều]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/KBI1EYQ.jpg[/img]

[hider=Appearance]
You would be hard pressed to find Bang in anything sloppier than smart casual attire. Presentation is key for first impressions after all, that's what his mentors would drill into him. Not a button unbuttoned, not a wrinkle unsteamed. Neatness is its own benefit but so is the coverage it provides for the compression layer underneath. 

Besides his well-kept suit, a passer-by would also notice the simple cane he walks with to compensate for the limp in his right leg, along with the glove he only wears on his right hand. If one were to bump into him, they'd likely remark on how solid his gloved appendage feels.
[/hider]
LÊ BẰNG KIỀU

16 | Male | 168cm | 75kg
Vietnam | Egoism | Regeneration[/center]

[color=f7976a][b]Their Story:[/b][/color]
It was a rather sudden thing. Foreseeable, he supposed (an observation tragic in its own right), but it was just like in the stories he’d read in the Egoist epics. His body simply moved on its own, and subsequently had 26% of its mass blown off from his brother’s abstraction. 

Their father was a callous but ambitious researcher who expected his children to have the same drive as him. Early in his life, Bang was deemed the less viable of the pair, too soft and non-confrontational. He was spared from having to engage in the family’s Egoism studies. He didn’t know what his brother Khanh was put through, though his prodding around in later years told him that they were attempting more powerful but volatile experimental methods. 

Bang watched his brother’s will corrode in real-time. Whatever they were doing to him in that campus, it turned a fiery-hearted young man into a seething, broken mess. His temper would snap at the slightest provocations. Whatever skin was exposed at home would be littered with tattoos and scars in equal measure. Bang could feel his heart breaking more for him with every passing week.

Fast forward two years to a tense family dinner. Another snide comment from their father about Khanh’s progress. An angry retort from the eldest son. Something was different this time though, more heated and bitter. The table and chair were toppled as he stood up, and heat began to swirl around the dining room.

[i]“Why don’t you look at what I’ve done for you? [b]Look at it![/b]”[/i]

Bang recognised the way his brother flexed that hand of his, memories of their sibling brawls flashing red. Khanh was going to go all out. Little 12-year-old Bang dived in to tackle his brother away from the family and the next thing he knew he was on the ground, feeling more and more of his life force spurting out onto the tiled floor with every weak pulse in his partially erased ribcage.

They told him he was vegetative for nearly three months. That his coma was the easy part. What came afterwards would often make him wish he’d gone out in that tragedy. Occidental alloy rods were fused into his body to replace his missing bones. The new ribs were easily the worst part, but at least that was eventually done with. After that was the studying. Egoism was what literally tore his family apart, but it was also what would save his life. He took up the study of regeneration, one of the most primitive forms of Egoism. Through this, Bang was placed in debt to his father and, indirectly, the government organisation he served. As long as blood still flowed through his shamble of a body, his will was theirs.

[hr][color=f7976a][b]Organization:[/b][/color] The Con Rồng Ministry[/hider]