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Homosaxophone
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ethanjory The Mary-Sue Master
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@Yuria Here's a thing.
Age:>
Gender:>
Nationality:>
Occupation:>
Place of Residence:>
Cybernetics:>
Biography:>
Age:>
Unknown. It has been at least a year and a half since Six “awoke” in the Lower District, and subsequently left for the Deep Urban. For how long he had existed before then is unclear.
Gender:>
Six was designed in the visage of a 12 year-old boy, and for most intensive purposes, he is the mental, physical, and emotional equivalent of a boy of that age as well.
Nationality:>
Highly-advanced android built to resemble a caucasian male. Six is fully aware of what he is, and somehow knows that there are no others that are the same as him. If there were, then he’d be more than happy to meet and befriend them.
Occupation:>
His functions before he awoke in the Lower District is entirely unknown to Six, as is almost all other memories of that time. However, he knows things that he has no right to know, such as an innate ability to repurpose tech, extreme familiarity with Paradiso itself, and an overwhelming sense of dread that compels him to stay away from other people. If anything, it seems to be features left over on purpose from whomever had “released” him.
Place of Residence:>
Six lives in a storm shelter that he reclaimed after his exodus from the Lower District. It lies in an old suburbia on the very edge of Paradiso, long ago abandoned by the people who had once considered it home. Six has since made it his home, and though it isn’t exactly spacious, it suits him just fine. He’s scrounged and scavenged through many of the other empty houses, and brought much of the interesting things back to the shelter. This includes old televisions that he’s tinkered with to bring back to working order, video game consoles that are played with archaic controllers, and other various hardware that hasn’t been seen in Paradiso proper in countless years. It more or less looks like a tiny workshop with tools, parts and bits scattered here and there, without much of any organization. There are also plenty of comic books lying around, rummaged by Six from dozens of children’s rooms. The very idea of a superhero has always been very appealing to Six, and he’s spent a considerable amount of time imagining what it would be like to fight against evil and protect those who are defenseless. It was this very concept that made him venture forth away from the home that he had made for himself into Paradiso itself. He’s come to the conclusion that if he can’t help himself then he’d only end up unknowingly harming innocent people, and he wasn’t about to let himself become the villain, by intention or not.
Now, Six doesn’t really have a home, only the clothes on his back and the items that he can carry with him. He’s leaving behind everything that he actually knows, and there are very few who would fully appreciate how significant that is for someone who can remember so little of his own past. Once he has finished fixing whatever is wrong with himself, there’s a part of him that wants to return to the storm shelter on the edge of the world. On the other hand, there’s also an equal part of him who wants to find a new place to live, only this time surrounded by people who he can proudly call friends. And that is probably Six’s ultimate intention, to never be alone again and to find a place where he can truly belong.
Now, Six doesn’t really have a home, only the clothes on his back and the items that he can carry with him. He’s leaving behind everything that he actually knows, and there are very few who would fully appreciate how significant that is for someone who can remember so little of his own past. Once he has finished fixing whatever is wrong with himself, there’s a part of him that wants to return to the storm shelter on the edge of the world. On the other hand, there’s also an equal part of him who wants to find a new place to live, only this time surrounded by people who he can proudly call friends. And that is probably Six’s ultimate intention, to never be alone again and to find a place where he can truly belong.
Cybernetics:>
Six is an android, so every part of him is synthetically made. However, even he isn’t sure what he is entirely sure what his limits are, no more than an average human would have any idea how their organs truly function. He possesses extremely advanced pain receptors, giving him a true sense of being in the world that he now inhabits. Bright lights make him wince, if he runs for a long period of time then he’ll become exhausted, nanotechnology that has been intricately woven into his systems can even mend minor wounds over a lengthy period of time, and enough pain can even potentially debilitate him. Whoever designed him did so with the intention to make him as human as possible, and for that, Six is more than grateful. Knowing that someone cared enough to offer him the opportunity to experience the many wonders of the world fills him with a certain reassurance that he would have otherwise lacked. Even so, Six stands superior when compared to a baseline human boy in most regards, including perception, reflexes, and durability. However, Six’s true potential is probably largely unknown, as evidenced by the events surrounding him when he first became aware and the periods of time where he isn’t sure where he has been or what he has done. At the present moment, it’s likely impossible to truly know what he is capable of.
Biography:>
A ghost in the machine; memories of a life that never was, drowning in a swirling dream of broken images and obscured shadows. Whenever Six closes his eyes, his thoughts flash before him so fast that he can barely make them out, but a few stop for just long enough that he can make them out. One is that of an older man, gray in his hair, with a kindly smile. Six always sees him wearing a long coat made of white, surrounded by bright flashing lights and computers. Those details… they never mattered much to Six, for whenever the man appears in his mind’s eye, for whatever reason, Six feels safe. The man would often speak to him, the words always too muffled to hear, yet Six believes that it must be like a father talking to his son. The other is that of a young girl that looks similar to him, only that she is actually a human. He can recall being very close to her, playing games and having fun, but her name is unknown to him, just the same as the kindly man. Many of his memories remain fragmented like that, and it’s totally unclear if they are real or not. Six keeps them repressed when he can, steering away from the overbearing confusion and pushing onward to face the current struggles that he must now face against.
When he became aware for the first time, it was in an unknown location, dark and so different from all the broken memories that he was able to call back upon. Six was on top of a man, knees on their chest, and the first things that Six noticed was the man’s bluish lips, eyes bulging out, with his hands wrapped around the man’s throat. The room was a mess. Stolen computers and hardware, as well as black market cybernetics, all destroyed or in disrepair, clearly the signs of a major struggle. There was blood splattered on the walls as Six found other bodies that had suffered far grislier fates than the man that now laid before him, and Six had absolutely no recollection of it. Why he was there, why so many people were dead… and whether or not it was all by his hand, Six truly had no idea. He’d never wish harm against anyone else, or he thought as much. He was sure of nothing, and with a thousand other thoughts racing through his head, Six didn’t know what else to do other than to run, and so he did, never looking back.
Just as he couldn’t remember things that he should have, he also knew things that he shouldn’t have. He was already aware of the potential danger that he’d likely be in if seen, and while he was confused when it came to the situation that he now found himself in, he had an existing knowledge of how to survive and what exactly he had to do next. He strangely knew the streets of Paradiso like the back of his hand, even though he shouldn’t have, and he knew which backstreets and alleyways to take to avoid attention, all with one destination in mind- the Deep Urban. It was an overbearing feeling to get to safety under any circumstances possible, and Six didn’t have it think about it at all. It was all oddly instinctual.
As he found himself wandering the streets of the Deep Urban, Six learned that his hooded sweatshirt was enough to conceal his identity, especially when those lived there were far more concerned with disease, death, and poverty to pay a stranger any mind. Even so, Six desperately wanted to help the people that he past, but he knew that there was nothing that he could do for them; an invisible hand urged him along into safety, away from anything that could possibly do him harm. Finally, he came upon the very fringes, a collection of husks that were the remnants of what once was called suburbia, visible relics of a bygone age. After walking among these abandoned houses, Six eventually came upon a communal storm shelter, where it once gave the people who had once lived there safety and protection. It would now offer him the isolation that he strangely desired, and so he chose it as his home on the very edge of the world.
It proved to be a lonely existence, and Six would have wished for nothing more than to have friends to share his experiences with, but the feeling that had led him to his isolation managed to persevere and he stayed where he was. Six eventually explored many of the houses that were still standing and founded a variety of different things that filled the void that was created from living all alone. Action figures, comic books, video games, and other antiques filled Six with a sense of wonder and awe. Even though Six found great enjoyment out of these relics as he filled the storm shelter with them, it still didn’t completely cure his sense of loneliness, but he was grateful that live in peace. However, that peace wasn’t long to last.
It began suddenly and without any warning. Stretches of time passing that Six couldn’t account for… things that he couldn’t remember. He’d close his eyes for one second and the next he’d find himself in a place where he had never been to before, several days passing without any recollection of what had happened in between. He knew that he must have been remotely hacked, or there was something sinister within him, lying in wait to take control of his body at a moment’s notice. Either possibility was unsettling for Six who eschewed violence in any form, ever since the day that he had awoken in the Lower District. He didn’t want what had happened there to ever take place again. Six still balked at the idea of leaving his new home behind- he was afraid and scared, yet he knew he had to work his way past such feelings. Just the notion that he could be potentially hurting more people without even knowing of it was just too much for him to bear. So he gathered what few belongings that he had procured for himself, and took off towards the Lower District, with every intent to stop whatever is happening to him.
When he became aware for the first time, it was in an unknown location, dark and so different from all the broken memories that he was able to call back upon. Six was on top of a man, knees on their chest, and the first things that Six noticed was the man’s bluish lips, eyes bulging out, with his hands wrapped around the man’s throat. The room was a mess. Stolen computers and hardware, as well as black market cybernetics, all destroyed or in disrepair, clearly the signs of a major struggle. There was blood splattered on the walls as Six found other bodies that had suffered far grislier fates than the man that now laid before him, and Six had absolutely no recollection of it. Why he was there, why so many people were dead… and whether or not it was all by his hand, Six truly had no idea. He’d never wish harm against anyone else, or he thought as much. He was sure of nothing, and with a thousand other thoughts racing through his head, Six didn’t know what else to do other than to run, and so he did, never looking back.
Just as he couldn’t remember things that he should have, he also knew things that he shouldn’t have. He was already aware of the potential danger that he’d likely be in if seen, and while he was confused when it came to the situation that he now found himself in, he had an existing knowledge of how to survive and what exactly he had to do next. He strangely knew the streets of Paradiso like the back of his hand, even though he shouldn’t have, and he knew which backstreets and alleyways to take to avoid attention, all with one destination in mind- the Deep Urban. It was an overbearing feeling to get to safety under any circumstances possible, and Six didn’t have it think about it at all. It was all oddly instinctual.
As he found himself wandering the streets of the Deep Urban, Six learned that his hooded sweatshirt was enough to conceal his identity, especially when those lived there were far more concerned with disease, death, and poverty to pay a stranger any mind. Even so, Six desperately wanted to help the people that he past, but he knew that there was nothing that he could do for them; an invisible hand urged him along into safety, away from anything that could possibly do him harm. Finally, he came upon the very fringes, a collection of husks that were the remnants of what once was called suburbia, visible relics of a bygone age. After walking among these abandoned houses, Six eventually came upon a communal storm shelter, where it once gave the people who had once lived there safety and protection. It would now offer him the isolation that he strangely desired, and so he chose it as his home on the very edge of the world.
It proved to be a lonely existence, and Six would have wished for nothing more than to have friends to share his experiences with, but the feeling that had led him to his isolation managed to persevere and he stayed where he was. Six eventually explored many of the houses that were still standing and founded a variety of different things that filled the void that was created from living all alone. Action figures, comic books, video games, and other antiques filled Six with a sense of wonder and awe. Even though Six found great enjoyment out of these relics as he filled the storm shelter with them, it still didn’t completely cure his sense of loneliness, but he was grateful that live in peace. However, that peace wasn’t long to last.
It began suddenly and without any warning. Stretches of time passing that Six couldn’t account for… things that he couldn’t remember. He’d close his eyes for one second and the next he’d find himself in a place where he had never been to before, several days passing without any recollection of what had happened in between. He knew that he must have been remotely hacked, or there was something sinister within him, lying in wait to take control of his body at a moment’s notice. Either possibility was unsettling for Six who eschewed violence in any form, ever since the day that he had awoken in the Lower District. He didn’t want what had happened there to ever take place again. Six still balked at the idea of leaving his new home behind- he was afraid and scared, yet he knew he had to work his way past such feelings. Just the notion that he could be potentially hurting more people without even knowing of it was just too much for him to bear. So he gathered what few belongings that he had procured for himself, and took off towards the Lower District, with every intent to stop whatever is happening to him.
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Dion THE ONE WHO IS CHEAP HACK ® / THE SHIT, A FART.
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1 mo ago
@ShovelKnight all A$AP tracks got nasty beats. Atleast when all of A$AP is there.
spencerishere huny buny
Member
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6 yrs ago
@Yuria So how many characters are you thinking before IC start?
GM
@spencerishere IC coming through when I've finished my work, so either tomorrow morning or afternoon!
@ethanjory @Homosaxophone Very very nice, both accepted
@ethanjory @Homosaxophone Very very nice, both accepted
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Rockette 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
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0-24 hrs ago
████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████. . .████████████████
&
. l. . u. . c. . e. . a. . m. . s. . e. . l .. .
- Ⅹ -
. ᴛ ᴡ ᴇ ɴ ᴛ ʏ - ꜰ ᴏ ᴜ ʀ . ꜰ ᴇ ᴍ ᴀ ʟ ᴇ . ᴅ ᴇ ɴ ᴍ ᴀ ʀ ᴋ / / ɢ ᴇ ʀ ᴍ ᴀ ɴ - ᴀ ᴍ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ᴄ ᴀ ɴ .
【 t h e m e . 】
【 t h e m e . 】
/ / . o c c u p a t i o n .
Rats oft will bunker down within numbers, skittering betwixt mountains of refuge tainted with zydrate binaries and oozing mechanics - solace among the physically enhanced whilst mentally deranged. Drug addled stupors and fixating glamours; acid-paint, hole-punched piercings and fire-rust, twinkling knives and grinding teeth like cogs. When one can't afford to dip credits and cash into the pocket of another, they pinch the knee length hose and fishnet bearings of those powder laced ladies with sequinned eyes. Rats scatter and drift and chew their ways through flesh and bone, no matter the colour or taste of Neon taint. They call them Rats with their waif figurines and twittering claws and switch like limbs that envelop tight for just the right amount stuffed within a latex bodice. Luce is a Rat, a brewing group of individuals that lack the initiative and order to produce sigils, monikers, and befitting stature among the drug-smuggling populace of Paradiso. They card dealings through flesh, enhanced and mortal, they chitter secrets with drug-fuzzy words, collect them just the same like currency and use them to spin webs that cling tight and manipulate those around them. Rats know the networking of most shadowed alley ways and cramped tunnels, they squeeze tight through life and some flit to and fro betwixt the gangs of Paradiso, always with information to sell and certain hardware to proffer. Luce is a Rat that collects details far and wide and banks them deep within the seeded hardware of her produced and deluged mind workings, she snuffs out those deemed too low for a drug-lord to handle and mules drugs from one hand to another; if not having indulged just a bit herself.
During eerily bright hours of a waning stupor, Luce tends to a facade of a living as an entertainer for the Sky Bar; serving lurid,
neon glimmering cocktails by song or skipping between patrons as a tight faced, beaming smile of a doll.
During eerily bright hours of a waning stupor, Luce tends to a facade of a living as an entertainer for the Sky Bar; serving lurid,
neon glimmering cocktails by song or skipping between patrons as a tight faced, beaming smile of a doll.
/ / . p l a c e o f r e s i d e n c e .
Usually one of two, or maybe three places, will Luce shake her bearings and lay down for the night, sometimes the morning. She owns the apartment 17A on the fourth floor of The Complex, but lacks the roots of heart and home. Luce can also be found within the living quarters conjoined with the dive bar called Dance With The Dead by the locale flavour, currently owned by a Kacey Holden; also a Rat, but of a different type. Where ever else she may lie, usually depends on the day, and the job.
/ / . c y b e r n e t i c s .
. s ᴇ ǫ ᴜ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ʏ ᴇ s . / / - They call them glittering pools of integrated software that spans the oculus and further in depth through the optical nerve and feeding onto the brain that promotes vision and the interpretation of such. The eyes are completely exchanged for a series of various colours and tones, the term Sequin being coined from the drifts of The Lower Districts and Diamond Heights, placing them for the unique presentation of their appearance like gems of circular cuts and lay. Within lights they interchange often, eerily so, without indication to pupils or iris with slight amplifications in place of a cornea to ensure protection from potential damage. The enhanced sight is capable of minute recordings of sixty second intervals and housed in a small chamber for later reflection or projecting if the proper software product is present within the photo-receptors.
/ / . b i o .
One plays the cards they are dealt and Luce is always holding a hand of Aces up her sleeve.
Of course, Luce wasn't always a Rat or a shiny-eyed siren with biting whispers and secrets of every tower, ridge or person of Paradiso, but, the life that was before is a blur of pain and glittering glances. Where agony is not only felt, but tasted, and one suffers loss of reflection onto deeds done and those done onto you. Luce literally stumbled her way through what she calls a rainbow drowned boulevard bedecked with neon shining towers and a melting sun, the hallucination one of a common Gigabyte indulgence with a severe drawback of the shakes from critical withdrawals. Some Rats, most of them, are simply born into what they are, family, friends, basic affiliations that leave little room for one to expand on their supposed destiny, and some are simply made into what they are. Luce was, is, one of many that came to this unfortunate grace of life, some would call it a euphoric blessing, and others just a mere way of life that one endeavors to survive in.
The Amsel name comes from somewhere though, be it a harsh scrawl of slashing letters through a Neon induced high, or from a curious look over by passing eyes through a Databahn transfer drive, and such literally translates to black bird. Luce wouldn't know where the name originates from, or if there are others that can arise to the appellation much like it entails, her memories are literally a haze and randomized glimpses of a life squandered, where eyes of blue stare right on back through sequined shadows. The name, Luce, has eternally been hers, probably her only possession within life.
Even her eyes are not her own, and she cannot recall quite how she came to possess them, only that her sometimes roommate called them a gift once when she broke down in a frenzy and struggled to peel blood from clumping together with her cosmetically spiked lashes. Initially, Luce was a meager peddler for whichever narcotic came into her lap, usually by the urging of whichever patron needed a deeper leeway into The Lower Districts and so on, sometimes even reaching Diamond Heights where she landed a decent occupation by her endearing simper alone. As a place open the public, it often attracts various aesthetics to appeal to every nature of person that drifts in from the Hotel yonder. She didn't quite come into her Rat membership, if one could call it that, until a low-life Foundry worker met the end of her juiced up knife, an illegal manufacture - a garish pink model really - stolen from the arm of a passed out slum dog and fixated into the form of a shiv. One drug lord to an abuser, as it goes, who refused payment from his daily indulgences.
Rats are efficient in their duties to get randomized jobs finished, the sort of freelancer vagabonds, and Luce is no exception to that rumored facet of their skittering finesse. If no one else wishes to do it, you can bet the Rats will and Luce is usually at the top of the proverbial chart to get the job done.
Of course, Luce wasn't always a Rat or a shiny-eyed siren with biting whispers and secrets of every tower, ridge or person of Paradiso, but, the life that was before is a blur of pain and glittering glances. Where agony is not only felt, but tasted, and one suffers loss of reflection onto deeds done and those done onto you. Luce literally stumbled her way through what she calls a rainbow drowned boulevard bedecked with neon shining towers and a melting sun, the hallucination one of a common Gigabyte indulgence with a severe drawback of the shakes from critical withdrawals. Some Rats, most of them, are simply born into what they are, family, friends, basic affiliations that leave little room for one to expand on their supposed destiny, and some are simply made into what they are. Luce was, is, one of many that came to this unfortunate grace of life, some would call it a euphoric blessing, and others just a mere way of life that one endeavors to survive in.
The Amsel name comes from somewhere though, be it a harsh scrawl of slashing letters through a Neon induced high, or from a curious look over by passing eyes through a Databahn transfer drive, and such literally translates to black bird. Luce wouldn't know where the name originates from, or if there are others that can arise to the appellation much like it entails, her memories are literally a haze and randomized glimpses of a life squandered, where eyes of blue stare right on back through sequined shadows. The name, Luce, has eternally been hers, probably her only possession within life.
Even her eyes are not her own, and she cannot recall quite how she came to possess them, only that her sometimes roommate called them a gift once when she broke down in a frenzy and struggled to peel blood from clumping together with her cosmetically spiked lashes. Initially, Luce was a meager peddler for whichever narcotic came into her lap, usually by the urging of whichever patron needed a deeper leeway into The Lower Districts and so on, sometimes even reaching Diamond Heights where she landed a decent occupation by her endearing simper alone. As a place open the public, it often attracts various aesthetics to appeal to every nature of person that drifts in from the Hotel yonder. She didn't quite come into her Rat membership, if one could call it that, until a low-life Foundry worker met the end of her juiced up knife, an illegal manufacture - a garish pink model really - stolen from the arm of a passed out slum dog and fixated into the form of a shiv. One drug lord to an abuser, as it goes, who refused payment from his daily indulgences.
Rats are efficient in their duties to get randomized jobs finished, the sort of freelancer vagabonds, and Luce is no exception to that rumored facet of their skittering finesse. If no one else wishes to do it, you can bet the Rats will and Luce is usually at the top of the proverbial chart to get the job done.
. p u n k 's n o t d e a d ; b u t i a m .
potentially one of two, for now. enjoy!
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spencerishere huny buny
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
@Yuria is ic open to everybody now or is there anything else you wanted to add?
@Yuria is ic open to everybody now or is there anything else you wanted to add?
It's open to everyone my man
you can believe me I am honourary Co-GM to tell people stuff when Yuri isn't present
1x Like
0 Azzy 0 (insert witty quote here)
Member
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4 yrs ago
I'll prolly stop being a holiday lamer this weekend and regurgitate a trash profile for you guys. <3
Dion THE ONE WHO IS CHEAP HACK ® / THE SHIT, A FART.
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
@vietmyke are you still in?
@Odin aye, was/am busy with family stuff for Thanksgiving
Dion THE ONE WHO IS CHEAP HACK ® / THE SHIT, A FART.
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
@vietmyke v. nice. I was gonna find a way to include you into the scene but the reply was a bit too late lol. If you want, insert yourself anywhere?
@Odin uhh, I'll read it over again while I'm at work and let you know.
Little Bill Unbannable
Member
Seen
6 mos ago
For those still catching up, I spent the past few days documenting the current plot threads with as much detail as possible.
3x Laugh
spencerishere huny buny
Member
Seen
6 yrs ago
For those still catching up, I spent the past few days documenting the current plot threads with as much detail as possible.
Omg i love it
Dion THE ONE WHO IS CHEAP HACK ® / THE SHIT, A FART.
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
@DeadbeatWalking u think rush will win
well think twice because i'll seppuku before then cause i hate my life homie
well think twice because i'll seppuku before then cause i hate my life homie
@DeadbeatWalking legend
CaliforniaState Biologist
Member
Seen
10 hrs ago
⑇ Name ⑇
♡ Santiago Ángel Gaviria Martínez ♡
⑇ Age ⑇
♡ 25 ♡
⑇ Gender ⑇
♡ Male ♡
⑇ Nationality ⑇
♡ Colombian (Bucaramanga) ♡
⑇ Occupation ⑇
♡ Playboy, Kingpin, Barista ♡
♡ If there is one thing Colombians are good at its cocaine and coffee. In Santiago’s case the two washes the hands of the other. Having recently entered the scene of Paradiso and taking over some of Kang Shal’s territory, the Colombian Kingpin began to expand. In order to have a front for his drug business, Santiago has opened up a coffee monopoly within Paradiso. Everything ranging from coffee shops, to coffee factories, to ports that handle incoming shipments of fresh Colombian beans.
Now down to the drugs. With his cartel expanding and finding themselves comfortable among the fray of rival gangs, Santiago has gone the extra mile. Todtraum. While the other three drugs are relatively easy to come by and sell, no other gang seems to take interest in todtraum. While the drug is highly dangerous and expensive in taste, there would be no inhibition too great to yield the Cartel De Bucaramanga. Being the main supplier of Todtraum led to higher connections and more income, the small cartel grew in size and power.
Beyond the coffee and drugs is the center or the heart of this operation, Santiago. Santiago is the run of the mill playboy, millionaire, and womanizer. The face of their operation, he does little to conceal his image. While others keep under the radar, Santiago isn’t, his flagrant demonstration of wealth and fame makes him quite the celebrity in all of Paradiso. While he tries to play the role of egotistic Robin Hood, The Cartel De Bucaramanga are no strangers to the underworld and its tactics. Drugs, hits, and kidnapping are all in their wheel house of sin. There is no length or extreme Santiago and his Cartel won’t travel to, to accomplish their goal. ♡
Now down to the drugs. With his cartel expanding and finding themselves comfortable among the fray of rival gangs, Santiago has gone the extra mile. Todtraum. While the other three drugs are relatively easy to come by and sell, no other gang seems to take interest in todtraum. While the drug is highly dangerous and expensive in taste, there would be no inhibition too great to yield the Cartel De Bucaramanga. Being the main supplier of Todtraum led to higher connections and more income, the small cartel grew in size and power.
Beyond the coffee and drugs is the center or the heart of this operation, Santiago. Santiago is the run of the mill playboy, millionaire, and womanizer. The face of their operation, he does little to conceal his image. While others keep under the radar, Santiago isn’t, his flagrant demonstration of wealth and fame makes him quite the celebrity in all of Paradiso. While he tries to play the role of egotistic Robin Hood, The Cartel De Bucaramanga are no strangers to the underworld and its tactics. Drugs, hits, and kidnapping are all in their wheel house of sin. There is no length or extreme Santiago and his Cartel won’t travel to, to accomplish their goal. ♡
⑇ Place of Residence ⑇
♡ Diamond Heights Building 2B, 44th Floor, Room C: Flashing his ubiquitous amount of wealth and power, Conejo doesn’t cut any corners by living the life. Coming up from nothing and squalor, Conejo feels as though he deserves only the highest and refined living situation he never had. Only a handful of the cartel live within Diamond Heights, his personal guard, his right hand. Having gained notoriety, Conejo has a network of other rooms in case he needs to move fast. ♡
♡ Apartment 32C, The Complex: Another one of Conejo’s safe houses to be used if Diamond Heights becomes uninhabitable. ♡
♡ The Foundry, Coffee Factory: The last stronghold and most fortified of bases that houses the Cartel De Bucaramanga. When all else fails, this is the Alamo of Paradiso for the Colombian Cartel. ♡
♡ Apartment 32C, The Complex: Another one of Conejo’s safe houses to be used if Diamond Heights becomes uninhabitable. ♡
♡ The Foundry, Coffee Factory: The last stronghold and most fortified of bases that houses the Cartel De Bucaramanga. When all else fails, this is the Alamo of Paradiso for the Colombian Cartel. ♡
⑇ Cybernetics ⑇
♡ Pie de Conejo Afortunado (Lucky Rabbit’s Foot): Conejo’s prized possession and where he derives his nickname. These two cybernetic legs connect at his mid-thigh and make up the rest of his leg. These augments allow for Conejo to basically become a rabbit. Beyond normal prosthetics, these two cybernetic legs allow for Conejo to obtain a large vertical and horizontal jump, allowing him to easily clear obstacles most couldn’t. These also allow Conejo to run at greater speeds than the normal human, even allowing him to keep up with some slow automobiles or bicycles. Finally, the cybernetics allow for him to scale walls at a rather slow pace. ♡
⑇ Bio ⑇
♡ Santiago, like most children of Colombia, was born into a family of poverty. This isn’t to say all children born are automatically subjected to poverty, but Santiago wasn’t a special exception. With his father out of the picture and being an only child, Santiago always had to rely on himself. While his mother did as best as she could with limited education, she could only work so much and still be there for young Conejo. Despite being enrolled in school and doing fairly well in all of his studies, as time went on, Santiago found himself less and less inclined to attend university. It seemed as he aged and became smarter his mother’s health was inverse, she became sick with each year until she was unable to work anymore. Crohn’s disease.
Unable to idly stand and watch his mother writhe in pain while being sidelined from working, Conejo decided to drop out of school and become the man of the house. What little book smarts he had harvested over the years aided in the polymerization of his growing street smarts, to create quite the potent mix. Fueled by anger and hunger his charisma and fixation for power led him to the dark allies of Colombia, drugs. Having no foreseeable options that compensated as well, Conejo bit the bullet and plunged head first into the life of the Cartel. Like any other initiate, he started small, working the books since no others could read or write; being a runner or a mule when he wasn’t counting. Little by little he worked his way up the grueling and fatal ladder of power within the Cartel.
With a few years and plenty of experience in both trafficking and killing, Santiago was now one of the most influential and infamous men in the Cartel. His mother was able to obtain the medical help she needed and granted any want she ever needed by none other than her little boy. However, this little boy was now a man and the next in line to secure a spot as the partner of his cartel. This didn’t sit well with some of the veteran members since he was so new. Dissident worked itself up the ladder until it finally came to fruition. What was supposed to be a routine meeting between the partners, erupted into an ambush set for Santiago. On his way to his car, the young kingpin realized someone had been in there before him. With only seconds to react, Santiago narrowly escaped the car with his life, but at the price of his legs.
Resistance was quickly met with blood and a message. Santiago healed while the world died around him, death would kiss him next if he didn’t find the tools to heal his missing legs. With the world dying around him and being too stubborn to lose his life’s work to a rival gang, Santiago decided to travel to Paradiso, The Center of the World, A New Start. Within those short years, Conejo was revitalized, his stubs now fully upgraded into cybernetic godsends and his appropriation of territory led to the rise of one of the most powerful cartels in all Spanish history. There was only one direction now, up. ♡
Unable to idly stand and watch his mother writhe in pain while being sidelined from working, Conejo decided to drop out of school and become the man of the house. What little book smarts he had harvested over the years aided in the polymerization of his growing street smarts, to create quite the potent mix. Fueled by anger and hunger his charisma and fixation for power led him to the dark allies of Colombia, drugs. Having no foreseeable options that compensated as well, Conejo bit the bullet and plunged head first into the life of the Cartel. Like any other initiate, he started small, working the books since no others could read or write; being a runner or a mule when he wasn’t counting. Little by little he worked his way up the grueling and fatal ladder of power within the Cartel.
With a few years and plenty of experience in both trafficking and killing, Santiago was now one of the most influential and infamous men in the Cartel. His mother was able to obtain the medical help she needed and granted any want she ever needed by none other than her little boy. However, this little boy was now a man and the next in line to secure a spot as the partner of his cartel. This didn’t sit well with some of the veteran members since he was so new. Dissident worked itself up the ladder until it finally came to fruition. What was supposed to be a routine meeting between the partners, erupted into an ambush set for Santiago. On his way to his car, the young kingpin realized someone had been in there before him. With only seconds to react, Santiago narrowly escaped the car with his life, but at the price of his legs.
Resistance was quickly met with blood and a message. Santiago healed while the world died around him, death would kiss him next if he didn’t find the tools to heal his missing legs. With the world dying around him and being too stubborn to lose his life’s work to a rival gang, Santiago decided to travel to Paradiso, The Center of the World, A New Start. Within those short years, Conejo was revitalized, his stubs now fully upgraded into cybernetic godsends and his appropriation of territory led to the rise of one of the most powerful cartels in all Spanish history. There was only one direction now, up. ♡
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