[CHAR] ⌠𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ╼ 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋⌡

[Mao Mao]

WORK IN PROGRESS

[Trooper]

𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

O'Reilly stands at six foot two and he weighs around one hundred and ninety five pounds. He has blonde hair and blue eyes with a fair complexion. He's currently sporting a blackened right eye and a crooked nose. Patrick's face is decorated with numerous scars, most notably a deep scar that runs from below his right eye and down to his chin. He has a tattooed of a ski mask wearing gangster wielding an AK-47 over his chest, the text below reads: "Rest in Peace Jimmy B, 1992-2012." A fighter by nature, Patrick's hands are decorated with numerous scars and sunken knuckles.

He's not the type to dress smart, preferring to maintain an inconspicuous demeanor. He's currently wearing a plain black hoodie and a pair of Wrangler jeans with a bulge in the waistband. A blue Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap is worn low over his brow, hiding his eyes. He dons a battered black G-Shock watch on his right wrist. He's known to occasionally reveal the firearm in his waistband during altercations or arguments, if doing so, the handle of a Glock 21 .45 would be put on display.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞

Patrick O'Reilly

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

Male.

𝐀𝐠𝐞

22.

𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Patrick is a low level member of Baltham's Irish mob, nicknamed "The Flannigan mob" by media outlets. Patrick operates underneath a crew that specializes in murder for hire and violent armed robbery, headed by notorious gangster Philip "Hacksaw Phil" Callahan.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Patrick was raised in low income housing on the city's south side, he grew up scavenging and fending for himself. This coupled with his current line of work has resulted in a certain degree of intuition. He knows what streets are heavily populated, what alleys lead where and which streets are dead ends. He is weary of those he meets, stereotypical in the sense that he assumes everyone meets is a cop. The kid's a fighter and will do whatever it takes to make it out on top. He knows how to use a firearm, but not particularly well. He's dead on when engaging anything under fifteen meters.

O'Reilly is known to be a hotheaded prick, especially when alcohol is involved. He'll start a fight with somebody just for looking at him wrong. He's developed one Hell of an addiction to cocaine, all though not a heavy addiction. He's going to be irritable and annoyed when he runs out. If in the company of a police officer, it should be pointed out that Patrick has a warrant out for his arrest for involvement in the shooting death of a member of a Blood set on the East side.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"All you gotta do is pull the trigger, kid. That's it, pull the trigger and you're in. No more nickle and diming on the street, trying to make ends meet. You do this and you're one of us, that's it." Phil smirked at Patrick, knowing the kid was soaking it up like a sponge as he passed him the Smith and Wesson snub nosed revolver. James "Jimmy B" Burns let out a scream that was muffled by the duct tape over his mouth. "You know what this guy did, kid? He's a fucking rat, trying to sell us out to the cops." He could feel the hatred flowing through his veins as he looked James in the eye. He looked back at Phil and grimaced, before turning with the pistol in his hand. Patrick raised the weapon in to a steady one handed aim on Jimmy's chest and squeezed off a shot.

Patrick jerked his hand up when he pulled the trigger and hit Jimmy in the neck instead of the chest. The jugular was struck by the round, dark arterial blood splashed against the floor and as every ounce of life left Jimmy's body, every ounce of innocence left Patrick's. The rest of the night was a blur. Patrick helped Phil saw off Jimmy's arms, legs and eventually his head. They dumped the body parts in dumpsters scattered all over the city's South side and in turn, received an envelope containing fifteen thousand dollars. Fifteen grand and all he had to do was pull a trigger. It'd only get easier.

"You cocksucker, didn't we tell you not to push dope south?" Jamal spit at his captor, staring down the barrel of the MAC-10. His friends Bernard and Luther weren't involved, they weren't even a part of the set. They were just at Jamal's place to smoke, that's it. "I'm eighteen bruh, I don't want none of this. That's the last time, I swear. Shit ain't gonna happen again." Patrick looked down the sight of the MAC-10 and shook his head. "That was good enough last time. You should of fucking listened." The three men were found dead in a studio apartment the following morning, riddled with bullets.

A gang war soon broke out. An illegal card game got robbed on the South side. A burned out car was found on the East side the next week with four bodies inside, two of them children below the age of nine. A woman was raped down South, a pimp was found in a dumpster outside of a local pizzeria, castrated. It went back and forth for weeks, shootings, stabbings, robberies and eventually a car bomb. The local Bloods set was finished and replaced with a crew that Hacksaw Phil approved of and advised by his apprentice, Patrick O'Reilly.

[smarty0114]

Wells Montgomery

𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Wells is attractive, and he's well aware of it. His hair is somewhere between light brown and dirty blonde, it honestly depends on the lighting. His eyes, sparkling with mischief, are a dark blue, like sapphires almost. He's slender, and has a rather athletic build. It's clear just by looking at him, that he cares about his body, and spends plenty of time at the gym. He's not abnormally tall though, because that would be unfair. He stands somewhere close to 5'10. His skin tans rather easily, but normally it's pretty light, and exceptionally blemish free, not including the freckles that dot his face.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞

Wells Montgomery

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫

Male

𝐀𝐠𝐞

Nineteen

𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

College Student

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

Not many people can honestly say that they dislike Wells. He's intelligent, clever, funny, and kind. Wells loves to laugh, and to make others do so as well, and as such, he's always cracking jokes. It can get annoying sometimes, but that's definitely not his intention. Wells is, for the most part, a good guy. He's always one to stand up for what he believes in, and is loyal, almost to a fault. He despises those who go back on their word, and everyone who knows him knows it.

On the other hand, Wells can be a bit of an asshole. Stubborn to a fault, and arrogant to boot, Wells can sometimes be a pain to deal with. In certain situations, it become his way or the high way. Couple that with a penchant for outbursts, and Wells can be a bit of a child when things don't go his way. Luckily, the time for growing up has come.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

For the most part, Wells had a normal childhood. His mom and dad were both defense attorneys in California, and they raised him well. From a young age, his life was built on the morals they held close to them in the courtroom: truth, justice, and respect. This led to him being an upstanding citizen of the community, one that led to the admiration of many of the family's friends. Everyone loved Wells, and he loved it.

Growing up, Wells found himself on the smarter side of the scale, excelling in most educational pursuits. Many figured he'd be a scientist, or a lawyer like his parents, given the advanced vocabulary he used. But Wells had his sights set on other goals. He wanted to be an author. He wasn't sure what he wanted to write, hell, maybe he'd dabble in journalism, but he knew he loved the feeling of a pencil to paper, churning out words to move people.

As he went through high school, this goal was an unwavering one, and he found himself applying to college in the Bainbridge Island area. With some money from his parents, he got himself an apartment near school and settled in, and he flourished. He made plenty of friends, and his degree was coming along quite nicely. He even got an internship at a small newspaper that was just getting off the ground. Life was good.

And then the world went to shit.