Doc Doctor — Roleplayer Guild

“All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.”

-Sun Tzu

Name: Donovan Booth
Alias: "First-Degree" Donny
Age: 36
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 160 pounds

Appearance: A slight but sturdy man with scarce eyebrows, a baby-face, sunken green eyes, a porn stache, and sprayed back ginger hair. He almost always sports a languid grin and frequently wears black pants and dress shoes with suspenders and black gloves, in addition to a dark blue trenchcoat. He's a big fan of ties. He speaks with a nasally Downeast accent.

Physical Abilities/Skills: Donny looks like a geeky dad, the kind of embarrassing adult that could be found doing jumping jacks in neon dolphin shorts down at the local YMCA. This is a strength. Hardly anyone ever suspects just how obscenely dangerous he really is. As a former Green Beret, he diligently trains to stay in peak condition and is a grandmaster of unconventional warfare, as well as an expert on improvised, civilian, and military weaponry. He's a world class gunslinger with a level of manual dexterity and slight of hand most oftenly attributed to master street magicians. Donny's extremely deceptive, excelling in both acting and psychological warfare, in addition to having a eidetic memory combined with a formidable spatial sense. In layman's terms, he fights dirty and abuses any advantages without hesitation.  His unwarranted ruthlessness alone is enough take most opponents off guard. 

He has over eighteen years of experience in combat as an elite professional killer, with at least 172 confirmed kills in Pakistan alone. Though he is a capable hand-to-hand fighter, he by far prefers mid-range firefights. He is a true "dead eye" with his selected firearms, and can hit a bottle cap at ninety-one meters with his Magnum revolver, the weapon he favors above all others. Such is his skill with the gun that he can fire off all six shots in less than a second by fanning the hammer, whilst still maintaining near-perfect accuracy. For reference as to the revolver's power, the .45 Colt slugs can put a one inch hole through a steel cooking pan at mid-range. The Casull rounds travel at Mach 1.7 and need but a single shot to take down an African bull elephant. The Casull hollow points can reduce a wild boar's innards to custard. The .460 Magnum rounds travel at Mach 2, easily faster than even .500 and .600 bullets, and can vaporize a human head as if it were a rotten cabbage.

At close range with the .410 rounds, Donny can empty the chamber and turn a human into hamburger in less time than it takes for the body to hit the ground. His secret weapon, the .950 JDJ rifle, fires a bullet with over nineteen tons of force per square foot.
It can literally shoot through schools.

Weapons and Equipment-

-The weight of his combined personal gear is around thirty-five pounds, discounting the clothes and satchel. His suspenders help distribute and relieve the weight of his equipment.

-Customised Model M513 Raging Judge Magnum revolver with a titanium firing cylinder and a Mernickle quick draw holster worn on the thigh. The rifling of the barrel, the cylinder tapering, and the frame are modified in a manner reminiscent of the Smith & Wesson Model 460XVR, to accommodate high speed .460 Magnum rounds. Put simply, the most powerful six round revolver on the planet. Donny carries three .45 Colt 325 grain Buffalo Bore moon clips, one .410 bore clip, three .454 Casull XTP Hornady clips, and three .454 Hornady jacketed hollow point clips, and three .460 Magnum 200 grain DPX Cor-Bon clips. His suspender straps are stocked with six of each individual bullet type. The hammer of the Magnum is modified to allow for fanning as a faster alternative to the double-action function.

-Unfiltered Camel soft pack cigarettes.

-Zippo lighter.

-A roll of quarters.

-Fake police inspector badge.

-A flask of purified lamp oil.

-Digital recorder preset with several two-hour tracks, including pained sounds, occasional coughing and snorting, casual and serious phone conversations, a muffled voice, muffled whimpering, and whistling.

-A custom high powered 28,000,000 volt, 10 milliamp Runt stun gun holstered at his left side.

-Belt buckle knife. 

-Set of steel cord handcuffs secured to the front of his belt and two spare keys. One key is stitched into his overcoat on the right side and the other is stitched into his left pants pocket.

-Trench coat with holes in the pockets and razorblades stitched into the collar. His shirt has razors in the collar as well.

-A plain looking black van fitted with an electric 300 horsepower induction motor. Goes from 0-60 in 2.8 seconds, makes very little noise compared to gas engine vehicles, and accelerates backwards as fast as it can go forwards. The paneling and darkened windows are bulletproof. There are no rear or rear-side windows, and the rear-side doors open clockwise.

-A modified X800 ShadowHawk flashlight secured to his belt on the left side. It has a custom tactical rail attached, and can be connected to the top of the Magnum's barrel or to the MP5.

-A gas compression ballistic knife with a snap button sheath secured vertically to his right suspender, with the hilt pointing downwards. Has an effective range of 6 meters and travels at 42 mph.

-M249 machine gun with two 200-round magazines, utilizing hollow point rounds. This is carried in a satchel.

-.950 JDJ rifle with four rounds, one always being loaded. This 85 pound gun is kept in the back of Donny's van, which is usually nearby. Comes with a scope.

-Five pull-pin grenades with welded on rings (for ring clips) and optional tripwires, typically stored on the belt. One MK3 concussion grenade, two M67 fragmentation grenades, one M18 smoke grenade, and one M-14 napalm grenade.

-Six inch switchblade in his pocket. It has a ring clip at the hilt base.

-A white handkerchief and a one ounce aerosol bottle of cyanide, disguised as nose spray.

-Customized retractable high-density golf club made just for braining folks holstered at his belt. It has a ring clip at the hilt base.

-Twenty-five foot razor sharp microfilament garrote wire reel concealed within a wristwatch that can be withdrawn via clip ring. It's almost invisible to the naked eye, as light as a spider's web, sharp enough to cut through bone with effort, and can withstand up to 2,300 pounds of tension without breaking. Donny can control how much is extracted and retracted with the interface of his watch. He can also remove the wire spool from the watch at a moment's notice.

-Spring loaded five-inch knives within the heels and toes of his shoes that will jut out when a switch on the instep is triggered. The soles of his shoes are padded with rubber to muffle his steps.

-Pair of insulated quarter-pound S.A.P black combat gloves weighted with lead. They are fashioned from a high density polymer that can resist being cut by the garrote wire.

-A heavy duty bullet proof vest that can stop even the largest of slugs.

-Can of FOX military grade pepper spray holstered at his belt.

-Portable six inch shaving mirror on his belt.

-Four adhesive bombs in the same satchel as his machine gun, which can be remotely detonated via digital watch or set with a timer. Each bomb contains enough TNT to scrap a minivan.

Personality: Donny is best described as an unfettered man. He does what he wants, when he wants, only to further his own goals. He is entirely unchained by morality or the legal system, which he holds in contempt. He follows orders only because he likes having something to do, and what he likes to do is kill. Killing is who he is, short and simple. As long as there is violence in the distance he will allow others to give him direction, for a price. 
He's outrageously crafty and as mean as an Arizona rattler, albeit with a nigh unbreechable calmness some would call detachment, though on an emotional level he's wholly into his job. He merely has an excellent poker face and never allows himself into a situation that he hasn't complete control over. He's an adrenaline junkie that gets his fix any way he can, primarily by way of murder, but also by driving like a complete maniac, playing games with law enforcement, and committing acts of terrorism. He's socially passable by modern standards, but has no qualms about being a public nuisance. He's quite skilled at being annoying, and uses it as a tool to pick fights. He enjoys smoking, but only does so before and after a kill. 
He likes taking first-class rides at the airport, drinking black coffee, making faces at children, and visiting strip clubs.

Background: When a young Donny was first asked himself what he wanted to be when he grew up, he found that he could answer the question immediately. He didn't think he was going to be a killer, he knew it as a fact. He was born to be bad, and bad to the bone at that. He had a typical psychopath's childhood. He was born in Bangor, Maine, his father a U.S Marine, his mother a sickly stay at home wife, and his uncle a vegetable. Donny was often unsupervised, and frequently engaged in less than moral activities. He bullied other children, killed animals, and stole from the local supermarket on a regular basis. Teachers were astounded at his strange combination of emotional maturity and blatant lack of morals. He quickly learned how to make them think he was a swell kid. In his youth he won several national marksman championships, a regular Annie Oakely. As soon as he was old enough, he joined the military. He was good at what he did, to say the least. He became a Green Beret and served Special Forces in Pakistan and Egypt. He was given a dishonorable discharge for endangerment of human life, various human rights violations, and countless civil misdemeanors. It was during his being stationed in Libya that he was stuck with the nickname of "First-Degree" Donny, after fully destroying three villages with a MIL MI-24 gunship, taking advantage of the commanding officer's wording of orders and forcing the malfunction of his own headset. After his discharge, he settled into Las Vegas.
There he found quick work as a crime syndicate hit man that dispatched anyone who filched on their gambling debts, seizing their assets for himself along with 20-40% of however much money they owed to his employers, plus expenses. Obviously his reputation decreased business, but it was a simple matter for the higher ups to conceal his involvement in many of the deaths. The consistency of his work easily made up for any gamblers he slew or scared away by proxy. 

Whenever he wasn't popping filchers, he was taking up hits. Assassinations of all kinds were welcome. He grew into the role of an underworld grim reaper, dreaded to such an extend that the Mafia dared not to double-cross him. Even the local police, to avoid mass casualties, decided to simply stay out of his way. The way they saw it, no possible confrontation with him could result in anything less than a catastrophe rivaling 9/11. The Feds were only called in once, and never again after having eight dozen of their own slaughtered in an incident so brutally embarrassing, it was wiped from the records and in Donny's place a patsy was tossed to the dogs, the failure so complete that a cover-up was the only way to preserve the public's respect for the government. The police have since avoided investigating too deeply into any murder scene where unfiltered Camel cigarette butts are found. After the massacre Donny became the founder of "K9" (Killer Nine), a team of expert killers feared throughout the country. K9 has proven itself able to kill anyone, anywhere, within a week regardless of their location or importance. Perhaps it's fortunate that nobody who has thus far asked them to kill the president has had enough money to pay for the job. 

Theme Music:

@Sikako J

Sparks flew as the coin bounced only once within the container. It hit something meaty then, the sound akin to a side of raw beef being slapped. Nothing happened, but the cloying scent grew heavier.

Something pale propped itself up inside the black hole of the metal flower. It was so dim, so hazy, barely there. A human face with eyes like sunken raisins, submerged in shadow. If it were truly there and not a vague, horrible figment of the imagination, it bore nothing like any living human expression. The shape swayed lazily, and any common man in his right mind would feel a cold wave of unreality wash over him like arctic water. 

The air felt thick, time felt drunk. The hole seemed to have a mind of its own now, and it could almost speak. A croaking of bloated toads, the unceasing drone of cicadas. Something was flapping, something was whirring madly, but from so far away, miles away, yet getting closer. "Come in", the hole seemed to say without words. "See what's inside." 

If Scouti had ever taken a hit of bad acid, she'd recognise the warped feeling. It was like the start of a bad trip, and a lesser woman might have even vomited on the spot. Evil mojo, bad juju, whatever it was called, this was it in the raw. 

There was no backing out now. It was much too late for that. But then again, the atmosphere could be fought against, Scouti could absolutely resist the influence of the thing's presence. One is only susceptible to such horrors if their own fears can control them, if their imagination is as ripe as a child's.

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