[b]Name[/b] - Elton Devereaux 

[b]Age[/b] - 42

[b]Appearance[/b]
[hider=Elton][IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v285/Icmastic/Sam_Fisher_Conviction_zps9fcf6a8c.jpg[/IMG][/hider]

[b]Gender[/b] - Male

[b]Personality[/b] - Despite having worked for the government as an Erasure Agent for quite some time, Elton Deveraux - an American male of Irish descent - does not possess the soldier-like persona. In fact, Elton's personality is most often described as bitter. Harboring a bevy of negative emotions, Elton rarely sees the happy or bright side of anything. While his social qualities firmly betray the image of an angry loner, his conversational dialogue is also laced with sharp-edged intention and acidic vulgarity. This is a man who very obviously carries events of the past on his back, but prefers not to open the bag to let others see exactly what creates the heft. In regards to his job, Elton takes his orders with a mocking, almost laid-back acceptance. To the outside eye, it appears as though he couldn't care less about being given the order for another Erasure or the victim of which has to suffer through the procedure. Suffice it to say, the job is usually the last thing on the older man's mind. 

Overall though, Elton isn't an inherently bad person to know. He doesn't mind exchanging words with strangers and he'll become even more chatty amongst those that are familiar and don't even let him get a drink or two in him. While he isn't the bubbly, happy-go-lucky sunshine type, the aging man is mature in his disposition and blunt in his attitude. He's been through it over the years and it shows on his face and body while still enveloped in the sort honest aura you'd want in a person who watches your back for a living. Elton is rugged, weary, bitter, and, in his own words, none of these qualities slow him down one bit. 

[b]Writing Sample[/b]

[hider=GM Writing Sample]And there it was again - the best friend and confidante Elton had known longer than any person in his somewhat limited circle of association. The appearance of his true partner always stirred up a sort of darkened happiness in the older man's gut. When he had a bad day, good day, or just one of [I]those[/I] days, his partner had always been there to console him. Even after years of associating with some people due to the nature of his job or events that occurred earlier in his life, Elton couldn't name someone who knew more about him or how comfort him with the delicacy that he come to expect from his beautiful partner. In his eyes, she was the perfect companion and there was not a man or woman in the world who could tell him otherwise. As the bartender set her down on the counter in front of him, Elton's eyes visibly lit up in the rare instance of actual gratification. He nodded a sign of thanks and wasted no time in uncapping his gorgeous mistress, grasping her hourglass figure and reveling in her cold to the touch exterior. 

Good alcohol was tough to come across in these times, especially as technology had advanced the world. Most bars were now laser light shows with shiny metal interiors and oddly shaped furnishings and adornments that were called "futuristic" and "edgy" by the masses that popularized such terms amongst the youth of the era. Luckily, the bar that Elton frequented was run by a guy who shared his best customer's sentiment in that some things just shouldn't be modernized because classics are hard to replace. The ugly truth was that the traditional bar, with its brown wood interiors, booth seats, counter, and distinct smell of booze and cigarettes, was a thing of the long gone past. Darryl's joint refused the truth however and was perfectly comfortable living out its deceitful life, fighting entitled buyers left and right who sought the excellent location it was placed in. Elton silently thanked Darryl even more as the warm liquid sauntered down his throat and satisfied his urges. If the technologically advanced world outside was the truth, then Elton was just fine living in the lie. 

Setting down the 20 oz bottle after another swig, peripheral vision pinpointed Darryl making his over. Elton's gaze remained on the stained glass designs flushed into the mahogany counter top, arms parallel to each other just near the edge. Darryl stopped in front of his friend, but turned his back to crouch and collect glasses and other bottles of some sort. "So uh.... How was the job today?" He asked quietly, continuing to rummage. Elton sighed audibly - and purposely - at the inquiry. 

"We've been through this, Darryl.You ain't s'pose to ask about my job," Elton replied. Darryl stood and placed a bin down on a hidden counter behind the one Elton sat at. His arms folded and Elton rolled his eyes at the action. 

"I just want know how it was man. I know you just had one and I just wanna make sure-" 

"Make sure of what? I thought we had an understandin'," 

"We do," 

"Doesn't seem like you understand very well then," 

"Look man, can't a guy make sure his friend is doing alright? You know, still-" 

"Still what? Mentally pacified?" Elton paused for a moment, then slammed his fist on the counter in revelation. "Wait a minute, don't tell me-" 

"Wait man, it's not what you think... " 

"The hell it ain't! It's Jenny, ain't it?" 

"W-what? Now why would Jenny worry about you? Didn't you break up with the girl?" 

"Fucking [I]girl[/I] is right. I never shoulda dated someone that young," 

"She was in her thirties," 

"My point stands," 

"Look, she just wanted to make sure you're not overwhelmed or nothing. You know how it is these days, if you're labeled a Psychopath-" 

"You don't have to remind me, Darryl. I am the guy they call for that shit, remember," 

"I'm sorry man... She was begging me and I promised her I'd at least ask about it," 

"Well, you did,"

"Come on, don't be like that... " Darryl trailed as Elton placed a wad of bills on the counter before standing and walking towards the door. "You even gave me this currency? Oh, that's just fucking mean for no reason man, screw you for that shit!" Elton chucked as he raised a hand and proceeded out the door, the little bell over top ringing to signal his exit. Darryl looked down at the dollar bills with disgust as he counted the crumpled tender. "Fucking bastard still doesn't even carry credit chips... What an asshole." 

Elton stopped at the metallic edge, breathing in the air for a moment. His car was still magnetically attached to the streetrail above it and it was still a long way down for anyone drunk enough to slip off the iron sidewalk - prime real estate for a traditional bar. With an exhale, Elton entered his vehicle and electricity crackled on the roof where the gear on the rail was connected to his car's rail-slide. Without hesitation, the black cruiser sped off down the rail and joined the traffic a ways into the journey.as the rail lopped around skyscrapers and other rails with cars going in other directions.[/hider]