"Bloomin' 'ell, if this ain't 'alf a bloody mess!"Name: Roger Ranger
Gender: Male
Age: 14
Appearance: About 150cm tall and only 45kg or so; he's still growing. Or, er, "was", in theory, assuming death complicates puberty somewhat. Trousers and shoes tend to be as black as his jacket, and he wears a t-shirt under the jacket and hoodie. That, apparently, is yellow, according to the image.
Personality: Extremely English in tone and volume, Roger is surprisingly unsociable, tending toward solitude when possible. He prefers the company of women to men, and in fact considers himself a womaniser of sorts (though his actual ability to woo the ladies is, naturally, sub-par at best); mostly, however, he won't usually initiate conversations himself unless he wants to discuss something important. Not good at smalltalk. Tends to swear like a fishwife's mother, i.e. a lot, crudely, and usually with some creativity behind it. Despises Americans.
Biography: Born as the only child of an English family with no other relatives, Roger spent most of his childhood up to the age of eight in a reasonable state of not really paying attention to the worse facets of the world, since, as we all know, young children are notoriously innocent and unaware. This sadly ended when, on a holiday to America, both his parents were shot repeatedly in a gang attack, dying in front of him and scarring him for life. With no family to return to, the American authorities naturally decided to put him up for adoption in America, where he was adopted by a lower-middle-class family that couldn't really afford to take him on in the first place, but was silly enough to think that it could. Surrounded by overly American influences like guns, star-and-stripe flags, and unhealthy diet, Roger apparently reacted by becoming more and more English in tone, and typically found himself wandering the streets every so often when he'd had enough of his parents for one day. One such day, about a year before his death, led to his accostment by a gang of ruffians, who he managed to land exactly one punch on before being restrained; however, seeing how much "heart" he put into his struggle against them, whatever that meant, he was swiftly inducted into the gang, performing various duties for them such as drug runs, gun testing, and on one particularly traumatic occasion, killing a family of two, something which he found he couldn't bring himself to do...
Death Scenario: ...and then his toddler brother got into their parents' gun closet and accidentally shot him with a machine pistol. "Goddamn fuckin' Americans" were his last thoughts before he lost consciousness.
Phobias: Loss or repression of self and/or personality, murdering innocents, dying (as illogical as that now sounds), the dark, flying bugs.
Skills: He's reasonably skilled with pistols, shotguns and rifles - at least as skilled as a fourteen-year-old can be, anyway - and he can identify most human-produced drugs by sight. Also shows the beginnings of a reasonably intelligent mind.
Power: Closed Borders
Theme Song:
Bamalam - Darren Leigh Purkiss. Alternatively,
Shot in the Dark - Within Temptation.