Hillan

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Soo, guys. Remember how I said that IC wouldn't be up till Friday?

Well. I lied.

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

The room was dark, and as you'd dwell further into it, you'd hear the wooden planks that made up the floor creek under your foot. You tried to be quiet, but the house spoke for you. It was almost pitchblack, but you could still find your way. On the walls there were paintings and shelves, on the shelves there were photos. Photos of people outside this gigantic mansion, but the mansion looked in better shape... And so did the people in the pictures. The pictures were old, certainly over a decade, maybe two old. You'd continue to wander in the seemingly empty house, till you reached a staircase. The flight of stairs lead down into a basement. You gently pushed the old door that revealed the basement. The Basement was dusty and you swore you could hear rats.

You dwelled further into it, untill you came to a door marked "Office – Knock Before Entering" You thought it was silly, but a notion came over you, and you knocked on the door before entering. As you walked into the door, your eyes widened and you felt surprised over the room you had found. A fireplace was burning, and the room had a nice brown color to it.

"Welcome.. How can I help you?" The bald man, sitting in a chair asked you. The man had a glass of scotch in his hand, icecubes in it that he sipped from ever so often.
"If you are who I think you are.. You already know" You said out loud. The man chuckled.

"Certainly. I do. I take it you want to start from the beginning then?"

"It all started in.."

New York 1946
26th April, 3:41 A.M

The flashing lights of the police car had stopped at the beach, a body was found. A ambulance was on it's way. The two officers talked to people, noteably the guy who had found the body. The body was mutilated. It was a woman's corpse. Blonde hair, average build, blue eyes. Pale complexion, caucasian. She wore a elegant dress and plenty of jewelry. She had a wide cut up her left side, going all the way from her hip up to her shoulder, and then on the back, she had two crossing cuts etched into her body. It was the second person the past month and a half to show up like this, out of the water and up on a shore in the city, with matching cuts, and no belongings stolen as far as the cops could see.

A man stood a bit away, leaning against his car. He wore a long coat, hat, dress-shirt, pants and a vest under the coat. He had quite the stubble on his face, and his features were rough. He sniffed into the air, using his enhanced senses, he knew exactly what the victim was. He growled as he got into his car and drove off.

***

9 A.M
Queens:

Samuel was just waking up. He didn't have to, he had nothing specific to do, well, nothing work-related. He had worked till 2 a.m last night at the bar, but he had had enough rest. He was anxious. He wanted to head to the 'institute'. For today was officially the first day. Sure. He knew everyone already, more or less. But today was the first offical day at the 'institute'. He had been waiting for this for almost an entire year. He would shower, shave and get dressed, plain shirt, jeans and leather jacket along with his boots he got out of his apartment. He walked around the corner and got donuts. A big box of them, enough for everyone. He would've stayed for a cup of coffee, flirted with the waitresses and what not, but not today. He had more important bussiness to get to. Samuel scoffed, as he headed back towards his house, and got into the run-down piece of junk he called his baby. It was a chevrolet Impala, and it sure as rain was run down, but it was Samuel's, and it got him from place to place without too much of a hassle.

The Mavericks: Valiant Heroics

Name:
Vito Morgan Barbaro.

Alias:
Capo

Age & Birthday:
19th December, 1995. (17.)

Appearance:
177 CM, 60 Kg. He's lean and fit. His build keeps him very agile. However, despite his rather thin build, he's trained to handle a punch or two. Green eyes, dark hair.
He wears tank-tops, hoodies and ripped jeans. He looks like he'd be butt-poor, as he refuses to follow suit to what people would expect from him.

Abilities:
Jack, with a side of squat.

Skills:
Martial arts:
Vito's being trained in Systema, the Russian style employed by the KGB. The greatest influence to his fighting style, however, is just regular street-fighting. The systema training does apply to his martial, but overall, it's all unpredictable street-fighting maneuvers he's picked up over the years.

Acrobatics: Vito is very agile. Able to apply flips and gymnastics into his fighting. He's far from a master acrobat, though.

Freerunning: Along with his agility, Vito is a good athlete and free-runner.

Street Smart:
Vito's got the know-how to get around the streets as one of your average thugs. He knows the names of everyone important and have connections in just about every crime gang in the city.

Sense Of Business:
You wouldn't expect it, but Vito has a great sense of opportunity. He knows what stocks are on the rise, for instance. He's great at seeing a opportunity and then seizing it.

Equipment:
Butterfly knife. Switchblade knife, taser.
He carries a slide that's attached to his right arm when 'in costume'. The slide will, when Vito twirls his wrist and pinkie send a switchblade into his hand.
His costume consists of a hoodie, a bandanna on his forehead, and a rag over his face. He wears different shoes, replacing his converse with black sneakers.

Backstory:

Born in Italy, his mother the daughter of one of Italy's greatest mobsters. Sancho De Grahm. Vito's father, William Barbaro was a small time thug back in America having ties to the russians, but when he had come with his pregnant fiance, Esmeralda, to Italy and met Esmeralda's father, William's life would change. William would learn everything about the world from Sancho. He had worked for his father-in-law for about a year when Vito was born. A healthy boy. His childhood was rather usual, he didn't notice his father and grandfather's work, and his mother was happy. But then, at the age of five, they decided to move back to the states.

Vito spent most of his childhood in a nice apartment in Chicago. His father's job as a up and coming mobster paid them more than enough to keep comfortable. But Vito never fit into the rich-kid niche. He was still attending public school, despite his mother insisting on him going to a boarding school. He got into fights and he got into trouble. Of course, the teachers didn't dare to take any actual action towards the boy, as soon as they learn about who his father was. From the age of 12 to 15 he spent the summers in Italy, with his grandfather, Sancho teaching Vito about the old ways. The ways Sancho had grown up with. The ways he had taught William 20 years ago, and ways Vito's father had all but forgotten. And Vito spent the rest of the year in the Chicago, in and out of juvie. Vito's crime record at the age of 15 was longer than most adult thugs were. But thanks to his father's connections, the cops never could make something stick long enough for him to get tested as an adult. There was always someone else to take the fall for his crimes. But in Italy, Vito felt at home. His grandfather told him about honor and that being a mobster didn't just mean you carried a gun and hurt people, it also meant helping people. Helping your people. To take care of those who were yours. That the people in your territory would be safe. But most of all, that you never broke your word. “Your word is your bond, Vito” Sancho always told him.

Vito would return to America a year ago, only to find that parts of his father's crew had gotten pinched, and they had to leave Chicago, as William had gotten a new contact in a city called Kilbride. Not exactly the most lovely of names.. Or cities. But for Vito, it was a adjustment. He was now the clean-cut kid who was slick with the words and always there to help others out. He was a member of three study-groups. One support group, and in just about every club the school have to offer.

It was during his freshmen year Vito quit gymnastics and begun training Systema with a few of his father's Russian contacts.

He sold drugs to the people involved, not a lot, and nothing more dangerous than pot. But he earned money, money he didn't need his father to provide him with. Than one day, last year, a senior ( for the third year in a row) ambushed him, bashing his skull against the wall behind the school for “selling him a bad joint”. Which of course Vito hadn't. He didn't even sell joints. He just sold the weed, and his weed was top-notch. It was 'borrowed' from the mob, after all.

The thug humiliated him, and bruised both his body and pride. And there was one thing you didn't do to a Barbaro. You wouldn't dare to wound their pride. Else you'd pay. And so the thug, named Alex, did.
Vito put fire to Alex's car, but not before having sex with Alex's junior girlfriend. Alex came after Vito, with a knife. Vito, thanks to his training could defend himself. He broke Alex's arm and jammed the knife into Alex's shoulder. Alex survived but was put into jail afterwards. William, Vito's father did of course catch wind of this, and much to the boy's surprise, who was expecting punishment, William endorsed Vito's actions, despite the fact that William had previously been against Vito's aggressive behavior. He praised Vito for leading a life of an ace-student in school, but also for not leaving any evidence behind.

Vito decided to spend the summer in America, keeping up his practice of martial arts, and trying to get a foot into his dad's organization. And the more Vito learned that summer about his father, the more he resented it. His father had ever since he found out about Vito's fight with Alex, taken interest in the boy. Endorsed him to become just like his dad. A ruthless man who cared about nothing more but himself, and his legacy. But Vito doesn't wanna become like his father. Not truly, at least. Vito holds onto the ideals his grandfather lived by. Which is why he's now taking to the streets during the night, or whenever the opportunity arises, to mess up the local thugs of Kibride.

I'll probably rewrite parts of the backstory. And I should probably alter the formating and god knows what else, but screw it, not now.
And no, he still won't be played for a arc or two, at least, and even then, he'll be a side-character.

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Zacharius said
Pfft, hot and cold on me taking part much...<3

I'm gonna call you... Buttstallion...

Captain America: Return of Old Friends

Taco Bell.
I'll have a post up soon.

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Marrow said
Ah man... i just have 5 sentence history and i can't come up with more D:wait what?our character doesn't need a history?SWEET!

That's personality section buddy.

Nightrunner said
There, there. Let it out. It's okay, Hilly.

Shaddap, you've got pleb-tier blue unicorn. #Pinkunicornmasterrace.

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

I studied spanish in junior high for four years.
I should know this. I don't, but I should!

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Mogtaki said
I told you on Skype as well D:

... Oh..

Awkward.

Ruby said
Ha. Close, but try an OC of mine.

I honestly don't even remember any OC's of yours. I'm a horrible pers- Oooh. Is it the Latino one? o.o

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Mogtaki said
Whatabout my two characters?

You sent me the second Cs?..
I really need to check my PM's better... <.<

X-men Noir: Let The Good Times Roll

Ruby said
Hahahahaha.You have to know who you're asking for, then.

Is it the green-haired bitch... I mean wonderful woman? :3