Name: Victor Sageas
Nickname: Metal
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: 6ft
Weight: 120lbs (130lbs with his robotic arm on)
Appearance:
His right arm.
Personality: He's a killer, with little regard for the lives of the gangs enemies. He is extreme in all things he does, those he loves he loves without falter, those he hates he hates with a passion, and he has no problem stomping in the skull of anyone who disrespects his leader and his brothers.
Short History: He was born to an alcholic father who was an enforcer for the Lost Ones, with the drinking came beatings, with beatings came a disenchantment with the reality of the real world. Vic knew they were poor, he knew his mother was in the ground, he was never told how she died but from his fathers words when drunk he figured it had to do with him, he knew his dad was on a warpath with the Wolves but he couldnt help but continue to be a bad kid. He would steal, he would get into knife fights, he would beat kids senseless, he had a reputation for being a cold bastard by the time he was 13. He wasnt top shit but he wasnt anywhere near the bottom, his only real problem in life was his father. The bastard beat him, he slapped him around, and one day his father attacked him in the kitchen. He grabbed Victor's necklength hair and pulled him back slamming him to the floor, Victor had tried to crawl away but his father flipped him over and sat on his chest. He felt the pressure on his ribs, his diaphragm was being crushed as his father slammed his fists into his face.
As Victor grasped for breath he tried to push his father off his chest but couldnt, and his hand's slipped across his fathers stomach. He felt his thumb catch the grip of his fathers pistol, he saw his opportunity and everything his father had ever done was imprinted in his brain. He remembered the beatings, the drinking, being blamed for his mother, the frustration when trying not to end his father's life before. But this time he let himself slip, he grabbed the pistol in his right hand and pulled it from his fathers belt line. His father froze raising a bloody fist, he looked down at his son's hands and saw the pistol's barrel resting against his stomach. Victor looked up at his father and squeezed the trigger, the bang was first then a small splatter of blood. His father retracted and tumbled to the side, Victor stood and wiped his mouth and nose with his arm, he looked down at his bloody hand. He saw his father crawling away and spit at him, blood and saliva hit his fathers face as he propped himself up in the corner of the kitchen. He raised the pistol and aimed directly at his father's face, he fired once and watched the bullet tear through his fathers forehead and blood splatter against the white cabinet door behind him as his body let out one final shiver. He threw the pistol aside and walked over to his father, he raised his left leg and began pounding his boot heel into his fathers skull.
"Bastard," He said with a kick, "Drunkard! Piece of Garbage! How dare you! You dont deserve the power you have! You dont deserve the Lost Ones!"
He kept on until he heard sirens, he wiped tears from his eyes and grabbed the keys. He sprinted out, he threw open the door to the garage and started up his father's muscle car. It was from 2010, a Dodge Charger. He shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it, he sped off out of the driveway and into the street. He continued down the road his foot firmly planted on the gas, he knew he wasnt going to dare touch the brake until he couldn't hear any kind of noise. He looked down at the radio and fiddled with its controls till he found a suitable station, it was playing some old rock the heavy stuff like he liked. He gripped the wheel and looked up, he saw he was heading to an intersection, at the next intersection sat a police roadblock. He grimaced and sped onward, he had come across the first intersection and saw blinding light speeding towards him, he barely had time to make the first syllable of the word 'Shit' before the impact hit him. The right car door was brought to him through the force of impact, he felt himself being crushed then he felt inertia as the car was overturned onto its side, he felt metal pierce his shoulder and reach into his right side. He would have screamed in pain but couldn't manage to get a breath out. He felt his hunk of scrap metal stop being pushed but it still moved, he felt it slowing and decided to open his eyes. He looked into the shattered windshield and couldnt even see the cops anymore, he saw residential houses and that the front of the car had been bent into almost nothing. He felt his own blood run across his chest and looked down, his right arm had metal running through it, nothing remained of it, just torn fragments of bone and flesh and metal. He saw blackness cloud his vision as he drifted into unconsciousness.
When Victor awake he was in a bright room, with white walls, white sheets, and medical monitors next to him. He tried to raise himself up but felt his left wrist had something keeping him down, he looked down and saw a set of handcuffs had him stuck to the bed, he tried to reach across with his right arm and didnt see it move across his to it. He looked down at his right side and saw nothing there, he stared for a moment and saw a sleeve pinned to the top of his shirt shoulder. He sat there and looked forward, he heard footsteps coming into the room. He looked up to see a nurse, she was rather pretty, busty with fair skin and a nice smile. He watched her as she came to bed side, she put her hand on his right shoulder and smiled down at him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked genuinely, "I know it cant be easy to deal with but you'll get used to it. Most amputee's prefer robotic arms as opposed to nothing, we have one lined up for you."
Victor didnt say anything, but he just stared at her. She knew he had nothing to say, what could he say, he had lost his arm, he didnt have anyone to give a damn either. His old man was probably in the coroner's office, being examined. He just couldnt say anything so he stared, she understood. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear.
"You are Lost, but not alone." She said into his ear, "We will be here for you when you get out."
He smiled and watched as she walked away, he knew he would be okay when he got out of prison. He knew what would fill his time, getting ready for The Lost Ones to use him as a tool, for him to be one of them and serve. He spent 3 years and 6 months in Federal Prison, when he got out he was initiated into the Lost Ones and soon became a well known soldier among his brothers and sisters.
Other: He parties hard.
Nickname: Metal
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: 6ft
Weight: 120lbs (130lbs with his robotic arm on)
Appearance:
His right arm.
Personality: He's a killer, with little regard for the lives of the gangs enemies. He is extreme in all things he does, those he loves he loves without falter, those he hates he hates with a passion, and he has no problem stomping in the skull of anyone who disrespects his leader and his brothers.
Short History: He was born to an alcholic father who was an enforcer for the Lost Ones, with the drinking came beatings, with beatings came a disenchantment with the reality of the real world. Vic knew they were poor, he knew his mother was in the ground, he was never told how she died but from his fathers words when drunk he figured it had to do with him, he knew his dad was on a warpath with the Wolves but he couldnt help but continue to be a bad kid. He would steal, he would get into knife fights, he would beat kids senseless, he had a reputation for being a cold bastard by the time he was 13. He wasnt top shit but he wasnt anywhere near the bottom, his only real problem in life was his father. The bastard beat him, he slapped him around, and one day his father attacked him in the kitchen. He grabbed Victor's necklength hair and pulled him back slamming him to the floor, Victor had tried to crawl away but his father flipped him over and sat on his chest. He felt the pressure on his ribs, his diaphragm was being crushed as his father slammed his fists into his face.
As Victor grasped for breath he tried to push his father off his chest but couldnt, and his hand's slipped across his fathers stomach. He felt his thumb catch the grip of his fathers pistol, he saw his opportunity and everything his father had ever done was imprinted in his brain. He remembered the beatings, the drinking, being blamed for his mother, the frustration when trying not to end his father's life before. But this time he let himself slip, he grabbed the pistol in his right hand and pulled it from his fathers belt line. His father froze raising a bloody fist, he looked down at his son's hands and saw the pistol's barrel resting against his stomach. Victor looked up at his father and squeezed the trigger, the bang was first then a small splatter of blood. His father retracted and tumbled to the side, Victor stood and wiped his mouth and nose with his arm, he looked down at his bloody hand. He saw his father crawling away and spit at him, blood and saliva hit his fathers face as he propped himself up in the corner of the kitchen. He raised the pistol and aimed directly at his father's face, he fired once and watched the bullet tear through his fathers forehead and blood splatter against the white cabinet door behind him as his body let out one final shiver. He threw the pistol aside and walked over to his father, he raised his left leg and began pounding his boot heel into his fathers skull.
"Bastard," He said with a kick, "Drunkard! Piece of Garbage! How dare you! You dont deserve the power you have! You dont deserve the Lost Ones!"
He kept on until he heard sirens, he wiped tears from his eyes and grabbed the keys. He sprinted out, he threw open the door to the garage and started up his father's muscle car. It was from 2010, a Dodge Charger. He shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it, he sped off out of the driveway and into the street. He continued down the road his foot firmly planted on the gas, he knew he wasnt going to dare touch the brake until he couldn't hear any kind of noise. He looked down at the radio and fiddled with its controls till he found a suitable station, it was playing some old rock the heavy stuff like he liked. He gripped the wheel and looked up, he saw he was heading to an intersection, at the next intersection sat a police roadblock. He grimaced and sped onward, he had come across the first intersection and saw blinding light speeding towards him, he barely had time to make the first syllable of the word 'Shit' before the impact hit him. The right car door was brought to him through the force of impact, he felt himself being crushed then he felt inertia as the car was overturned onto its side, he felt metal pierce his shoulder and reach into his right side. He would have screamed in pain but couldn't manage to get a breath out. He felt his hunk of scrap metal stop being pushed but it still moved, he felt it slowing and decided to open his eyes. He looked into the shattered windshield and couldnt even see the cops anymore, he saw residential houses and that the front of the car had been bent into almost nothing. He felt his own blood run across his chest and looked down, his right arm had metal running through it, nothing remained of it, just torn fragments of bone and flesh and metal. He saw blackness cloud his vision as he drifted into unconsciousness.
When Victor awake he was in a bright room, with white walls, white sheets, and medical monitors next to him. He tried to raise himself up but felt his left wrist had something keeping him down, he looked down and saw a set of handcuffs had him stuck to the bed, he tried to reach across with his right arm and didnt see it move across his to it. He looked down at his right side and saw nothing there, he stared for a moment and saw a sleeve pinned to the top of his shirt shoulder. He sat there and looked forward, he heard footsteps coming into the room. He looked up to see a nurse, she was rather pretty, busty with fair skin and a nice smile. He watched her as she came to bed side, she put her hand on his right shoulder and smiled down at him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked genuinely, "I know it cant be easy to deal with but you'll get used to it. Most amputee's prefer robotic arms as opposed to nothing, we have one lined up for you."
Victor didnt say anything, but he just stared at her. She knew he had nothing to say, what could he say, he had lost his arm, he didnt have anyone to give a damn either. His old man was probably in the coroner's office, being examined. He just couldnt say anything so he stared, she understood. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear.
"You are Lost, but not alone." She said into his ear, "We will be here for you when you get out."
He smiled and watched as she walked away, he knew he would be okay when he got out of prison. He knew what would fill his time, getting ready for The Lost Ones to use him as a tool, for him to be one of them and serve. He spent 3 years and 6 months in Federal Prison, when he got out he was initiated into the Lost Ones and soon became a well known soldier among his brothers and sisters.
Other: He parties hard.
