Name:
Kane Abellian

Image:
(It’s not done yet but it will be soon)

Age:
24

Species:
Werewolf

Goals/Faction:
He wants to ensure that Soldier crumbles.

Backstory:
A baby cries. It’s you. Mom smiles. She pats your back, calls you her dear little boy. Tears cease. Dad pulls you away. Comfort lost. This is his first time looking at you. He gives you that strange half smile. The first of many. He says you’re a bit small. Don’t worry, you’ll grow.

Swing. Crack. Whoosh. Sweat drips as you run. Third plate. Not bad. You look at Dad in the bleachers. Half smile. You see his eyes though. You know he’s proud. Shining stars. Not small anymore. Tall, athletic. A model baseball player. You win the game for your team. Good job.

Snow falls. Wind blows. Laughter in the kitchen. Your family invited the neighbors over to celebrate. Everyone loves Christmas. You’re not with them though. No. You’re in your bedroom. With a girl. She has her hands on her hips, standing in front of the door. It’s closed. Well? You see that look in her eye. She’s annoyed. She’s waiting. Gulp. You shuffle over to her. Now! You stand on your tippy toes to get closer. She’s two years older. You kiss her gently. You should see your face. Red as a rose. She smirks. This time, she kisses you. She leans down. Her lips are soft.

She moved away today. The kiss goodbye was tender, sweet. You gazed into her eyes for one last time. Not lovingly. No, you’re far too young for that. But adoration? Absolutely. You feel a bit down, but you’re strong. Don’t worry champ. She was only the first of many.

Dad didn’t come home today. Again. You remember the last time you saw him. Clear as day. He wordlessly kissed your forehead, tussled your hair, and walked out the door. Mom got drunk today. Again. You remember the last time she beat you. Clear as day. How could you forget? It was only a few hours ago. You lay crying softly in your bed, clutching the photo as you always do. That photo of you. With Mom and Dad. Smiling. Stupid child. Something inside of you begins to burn. Wildfire spreads. You’re angry. You walk into Mom’s room. There’s no need to be afraid, the alcohol knocked her out a while ago. You find Dad’s lighter. Same spot it’s always been in. Grab the lighter. Shuffling feet. Let the fire cleanse. Embers engulf you, and Mom, and Dad. Smiling. The ashes of that picture tumble into oblivion.

Swing. Crack. Groan. Sweat drips as you try to scurry away. Mom is strong though. Quick too. Hands grabbing. Child struggling. When she’s finished, you’re in pain. Bruised. Bleeding. You look at her face. Fury. Heavy breathing. Contempt. Happy birthday.

A voice screams. It’s Mom. You smile. You drive the kitchen knife further into her chest, and call her a bitch. Tears begin to fall. The screamings cease, and her lifeforce pulls away. This is your last time looking at her. The fire engulfs the house in mere minutes. You’re already out the door. She was your first victim. The first of many. You’re a bit rusty. Don’t worry, you’ll grow.

Chomp. Salt. Ketchup. Cheese. Beef. It’s a good burger. You’ve been wandering for about a year now. Don’t fear. No one is looking. The fire burned everything. You are a dead man. A clever man. Then you spy her. Cute short hair. Legs up to here. Low cut top. You walk over. Chat her up. Twirling hair. Nervous laughter. She wants you. That night, she gets you. You skip town the next morning. Better this way.

Warm and slick. Blood. Ridiculous. He should have given up the wallet. You need the money more than he does. It doesn’t matter now. One hundred bucks. A good haul. You rise. Rain falls. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

Kind hands reaching. Gentle eyes pleading. Mom. Forgiveness. You give it to her. How could you not? Smiling faces. A knock at the door. It’s Dad. Reunited. Family again. You wake up. Cold sweat. Dream. Nightmare? Feet dragging, body slouching. Wash the face. Cleanse the impurities. You see yourself. You’re just like her. Monster. This isn’t right.

Struggling. Fighting. Arguing. Battle of the mind. Finally, a decision is reached.

Mirror. Again. Operation successful. Not without complications. Something went wrong when they tried to put your new left eye in. You touch at the burned flesh lightly. Some scars heal. This one sure as hell will not. You paid the price of admission. Good job.

You’re right at home in Soldier. Plenty of creatures need killing. Plenty of ways to kill them. No one bats an eye, no matter what is done to them. They are the enemy. The fact that you are on the right side comforts you at night.

Anger. Shock. Betrayal. You’re being cast out. After everything you’ve done for them, too. Now they're abandoning you. Vengeance is sworn. The vampires will be stopped, and Soldier will be cast down into their ashes.

Powers/Skills:
Kane’s training with soldier taught him all the ins and outs of handguns, and he can now use a number of them with ease and efficiency. His cybernetic eyes can grant him enhanced sight, thermal vision, and night vision. His werewolf blood grants him the senses, speed, strength, and regenerative properties that all of the alaskan beasts share. His implants no longer allow him to shift much farther past a partial transformation, though his weakness to silver remains.

Equipment/Weapons:
The black metal arm on his right side is made of a strong but light alloy, with retractable claws tipped with silver capable of easily rending flesh from bone. Additionally, he carries with him two guns loaded with silver bullets, a Colt M1911 and a S&W Model 629.

Themesong: