Hope this works.

[hider=WIP][b]Name:[/b] Perro

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Age:[/b] 31

[b]Appearance:[/b] Tall. Stringy. Wide white teeth in a face that look like it was carved from something harder n' older n' darker than stone. Not big, but he's got big shoulders, big wrists.

[b]Specialized In:[/b] Tracking 

[b]Personality:[/b] Quiet. Would rather drink than fight, would rather fight than shoot, would rather shoot than talk. He's looking for something, though he couldn't tell you what that is. But if you've got the money, you've got his attention. For a little while, at least.

[b]History:[/b] Not much in the telling, I reckon. Born the night a comet streaked overhead, though you wouldn'ta seen it what with all the dust in the air n' the clouds like a darker, meaner ocean hovrin' above you. Killed his ma when he came out of her, killed something in his old man too that his pa never seemed to get back. Ran away when he was twelve, all bones and raw wounds and still without a name, went south. 

Fell in with a group of vaqueros come up from what they used to call Mexico, learned to shoot, ride, hunt for food n' bounties n' such. (They didn't need to teach the kid to brawl, though. That was somethin' he learned just fine fendin' off his pa when the old man took it in his head every so often to try and kill the creature that killed his wife.) Got damn good at trackin' too, whether it be a single proud buck through the broken streets of the abandoned cities or some bandit turned fugitive squirreled away in a tin shack halfway across the country. So they gave him a name. Perro. Means 'dog', they said.

It sat him well enough. Seemed as good a name as any.   

[b]Weapon of choice:[/b] A beat up but reliable .45 semi-auto he picked up when one of his vaquero buddies came down with a sudden case of dead. The old cowboy called it 'Maria'. The young dog thought that was just about the prettiest name he ever heard.  

[b]Clothing/Armor:[/b] Nothin' fancy, mind you. Good boots, faded corduroys, and a denim shirt that keeps the sun off a dog's back. A long leather duster for the open road, and a heavy black armored vest with 'LAPD' written on the back for when the lead starts flyin'.[/hider]