yobo Member
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Most Recent Posts
*peeks in*
Thanks. It's not the cane, even though I do miss it dearly, it's a mixture of things.
Katelyn said
Yobo- looks great. Looking forward to your picky picture. *grins*
Picky picture is up. :)
And a small "y", please. ;)
I hope you are feeling better today then.
Feeling a bit blue today myself, just one of those days I guess.
And I'm looking forward to reading your post. :)
Feeling a bit blue today myself, just one of those days I guess.
And I'm looking forward to reading your post. :)
Aww, that sucks. Hope you feel better soon.
And happy valentines day, even though I don't celebrate it.
And happy valentines day, even though I don't celebrate it.
Looking forward to reading it. :)
San Diego, California
Got on board a westbound 747
Didn't think before deciding what to do
Ooh, that talk of opportunities
TV breaks and movies
Rang true
Sure rang true
Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours
Out of work, I'm out of my head
Out of self respect, I'm out of bread
I'm underloved, I'm underfed, I wanna go home
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours
Samuel stumbled into the abandoned gas station with a crash. The scorching sun was zapping him of his energy and he laid there in a heap for a while, breathing rapidly while he tried to reassess the situation for the millionth time. He reached for the water bottle out of habit even if he knew it would be empty, only to put it back. He had stumbled into the south of California during summer, a hot summer even for these parts, and water had proved to be hard to come by. He had expected and certainly hoped to find more resources, or remnants if you would, from the old days in San Diego. Like bottles of water or soda in abandoned gas stations, but this part of San Diego seemed to be thoroughly looted. Probably one of those damn gangs, Samuel just hoped they weren't nearby, he wouldn't stand a chance in his current state.
Not feeling any better at all he grabbed the small bottle of painkillers and put two into his mouth, not caring if he overdid it at this point. They were supposed to fight an infection, at least to a certain degree, but they weren't strong enough. He was eating them like candy and nothing seemed to happen, and he was running out of them. He chewed them up, hating the acrid taste of the pills, and tried to produce enough saliva to be able to swallow the chewed-up pills. He didn't succeed, and the taste of the pills just lingered in his mouth.
Slowly he managed to get back up on his feet, it only got more difficult for each time, and his fears was confirmed. This place was thoroughly looted, and there was nothing to drink or nothing to eat here. He still had some food in his backpack, but he couldn't keep anything down, except for small sips of water. He tried the faucet behind the counter but it was broken. Turning around, his head pounding, he saw some maps behind the counter. Moving over he picked one of them up. Even though he had a map over San Diego it wasn't detailed enough, it didn't show what he needed right now, a hospital. Maybe one of these maps did?
The first map was a map over the whole state of California, and useless for Samuel at this point. The next one was over the southern part of California. At least he was getting closer. The next one was indeed a map over San Diego, a detailed one. And there it was, the icon signalling a hospital, and there were more than one. Now he just needed to find his location, which he did, and look for a nearby hospital. There was one, the St. Luke's Hospital. It was close enough. Normally it would have been an easy walk, but today it would require all his strength and willpower.
Even though his body ached and begged Samuel to lay back down, take a breather, he knew that if he did he wouldn't get back up again. He had to keep going. Stumbling back into the sun he could feel it sting his skin. It burned. He had been sloppy with applying sunscreen and now he was paying for it, but that was the least of his worries. There was a real chance of dehydration, and the infection was ravaging his body, and he needed antibiotics, strong antibiotics. With his luck the hospital had probably burned down.
How Samuel actually made it to the hospital he didn't know, he just put one foot ahead of the other, time after time, getting up whenever he fell down, making it block by block until he saw the hospital. It was still standing.
The last hill up to the hospital nearly defeated him, and he had to crawl the last bit when his legs gave in for the last time. His hands and knees was soon all cut up and blistered from crawling on the hot tarmac. When he finally reached the entrance it was locked, thoroughly so. Laying there in front of the entrance, totally exhausted, Samuel knew that this was it. He didn't have enough energy left to go looking for another way in, it was a miracle he had gotten this far. No, this was definitely the end of the road, and by nightfall the rats would be feasting on his dead body.
Didn't think before deciding what to do
Ooh, that talk of opportunities
TV breaks and movies
Rang true
Sure rang true
Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours
Out of work, I'm out of my head
Out of self respect, I'm out of bread
I'm underloved, I'm underfed, I wanna go home
It never rains in California
But girl don't they warn ya
It pours, man it pours
Samuel stumbled into the abandoned gas station with a crash. The scorching sun was zapping him of his energy and he laid there in a heap for a while, breathing rapidly while he tried to reassess the situation for the millionth time. He reached for the water bottle out of habit even if he knew it would be empty, only to put it back. He had stumbled into the south of California during summer, a hot summer even for these parts, and water had proved to be hard to come by. He had expected and certainly hoped to find more resources, or remnants if you would, from the old days in San Diego. Like bottles of water or soda in abandoned gas stations, but this part of San Diego seemed to be thoroughly looted. Probably one of those damn gangs, Samuel just hoped they weren't nearby, he wouldn't stand a chance in his current state.
Not feeling any better at all he grabbed the small bottle of painkillers and put two into his mouth, not caring if he overdid it at this point. They were supposed to fight an infection, at least to a certain degree, but they weren't strong enough. He was eating them like candy and nothing seemed to happen, and he was running out of them. He chewed them up, hating the acrid taste of the pills, and tried to produce enough saliva to be able to swallow the chewed-up pills. He didn't succeed, and the taste of the pills just lingered in his mouth.
Slowly he managed to get back up on his feet, it only got more difficult for each time, and his fears was confirmed. This place was thoroughly looted, and there was nothing to drink or nothing to eat here. He still had some food in his backpack, but he couldn't keep anything down, except for small sips of water. He tried the faucet behind the counter but it was broken. Turning around, his head pounding, he saw some maps behind the counter. Moving over he picked one of them up. Even though he had a map over San Diego it wasn't detailed enough, it didn't show what he needed right now, a hospital. Maybe one of these maps did?
The first map was a map over the whole state of California, and useless for Samuel at this point. The next one was over the southern part of California. At least he was getting closer. The next one was indeed a map over San Diego, a detailed one. And there it was, the icon signalling a hospital, and there were more than one. Now he just needed to find his location, which he did, and look for a nearby hospital. There was one, the St. Luke's Hospital. It was close enough. Normally it would have been an easy walk, but today it would require all his strength and willpower.
Even though his body ached and begged Samuel to lay back down, take a breather, he knew that if he did he wouldn't get back up again. He had to keep going. Stumbling back into the sun he could feel it sting his skin. It burned. He had been sloppy with applying sunscreen and now he was paying for it, but that was the least of his worries. There was a real chance of dehydration, and the infection was ravaging his body, and he needed antibiotics, strong antibiotics. With his luck the hospital had probably burned down.
How Samuel actually made it to the hospital he didn't know, he just put one foot ahead of the other, time after time, getting up whenever he fell down, making it block by block until he saw the hospital. It was still standing.
The last hill up to the hospital nearly defeated him, and he had to crawl the last bit when his legs gave in for the last time. His hands and knees was soon all cut up and blistered from crawling on the hot tarmac. When he finally reached the entrance it was locked, thoroughly so. Laying there in front of the entrance, totally exhausted, Samuel knew that this was it. He didn't have enough energy left to go looking for another way in, it was a miracle he had gotten this far. No, this was definitely the end of the road, and by nightfall the rats would be feasting on his dead body.
Name: Ken Smith
Age: 40s
Appearance:
Ring:
Job/Position: Interrogator
Weapons: His assortment of toys designed to make people talk, plus a sidearm.
History:
Ken was born on one of the many immigration ships coming from Europe in those days, his mother died in labor and nobody knew who his father was. When he was brought into the immigration building at Ellis Island he was given the name Ken Smith. Since nobody really wanted to adopt him he ended up at an orphanage, run by Catholic nuns. The poor nuns did their best to make young Ken behaving, but neither prayer nor beatings had the desired effect. He soon grew into a bully, preying on those younger and weaker than him.
With time he grew more and more sadistic, and he soon turned to torturing and killing smaller animals. His thirst for inflicting pain on others grew, and when he was caught torturing the horse of the orphanage he ran away rather than face the punishment. He was now fourteen and out on the means streets of New York City.
Ken still preyed on those weaker than him, but now he was a prey himself, something he learned the hard way. But Ken was a quick learner and he learned to keep away when he should, and he learned how to get his revenge when someone got the better of him. When he was sixteen he killed for the first time, getting a revenge on a drunk who had beaten him up when the drunk had passed out in a dark alleyway. He simply crushed his head with a rock, and walked away not regretting a thing.
When he was nineteen he tricked Patrick O'Flanagan, a twenty year old Irish man, to come with him to an abandoned building. Ken tortured Patrick for hours, ending up killing him by accident making Patrick his third victim, the second being another passed out drunk. The killing annoyed Ken, Patrick was supposed to last longer.
When Patrick's body was discovered even the mean streets of New York got frightened. Ken was never caught, but when he tricked another young man into what he thought was an abandoned building, but it wasn't. Halfway through Frankie DeMarco and his men caught him in the act, and Frankie quickly figured out that Ken was Patrick's murderer. Frankie's men caught Ken, thinking he was a sick bastard even by their standards, and gave him a beating, and they would have killed him if Frankie hadn't intervened when inspiration struck. Ken was lead into another room, where a shopowner who had fallen behind on his payments was tied to a chair. At this point Ken was auditioning, and the fact the man was innocent didn't matter one bit, and when he was done even the hardened mobsters had turned noticeably whiter in their faces.
From that day Frankie made sure Ken had all he needed to live a comfortable life, but more important Ken had found somewhere he belonged, where he was respected, where he was feared. All Ken had to do was do his little magic once in a while, making himself to quite the boogeyman of the New York underworld, and for this Ken stayed loyal to Frankie. He didn't go look for his own victims anymore, he got all the victims he needed from Frankie.
After a while Frankie thought Ken should relocate since he had made a lot of enemies, and was sent down to Miami with Vincent DeMarco where Vincent made a name for himself with the help of Ken. Ken still makes trips back to New York when Frankie needs his expertize, and even to other big cities in the US. He also attends the social gatherings when Vincent asks him to, but when not torturing someone Ken prefers to spend his time in his private workshop, creating new fun toys he can use on some poor devil.
Age: 40s
Appearance:
Ring:
Job/Position: Interrogator
Weapons: His assortment of toys designed to make people talk, plus a sidearm.
History:
Ken was born on one of the many immigration ships coming from Europe in those days, his mother died in labor and nobody knew who his father was. When he was brought into the immigration building at Ellis Island he was given the name Ken Smith. Since nobody really wanted to adopt him he ended up at an orphanage, run by Catholic nuns. The poor nuns did their best to make young Ken behaving, but neither prayer nor beatings had the desired effect. He soon grew into a bully, preying on those younger and weaker than him.
With time he grew more and more sadistic, and he soon turned to torturing and killing smaller animals. His thirst for inflicting pain on others grew, and when he was caught torturing the horse of the orphanage he ran away rather than face the punishment. He was now fourteen and out on the means streets of New York City.
Ken still preyed on those weaker than him, but now he was a prey himself, something he learned the hard way. But Ken was a quick learner and he learned to keep away when he should, and he learned how to get his revenge when someone got the better of him. When he was sixteen he killed for the first time, getting a revenge on a drunk who had beaten him up when the drunk had passed out in a dark alleyway. He simply crushed his head with a rock, and walked away not regretting a thing.
When he was nineteen he tricked Patrick O'Flanagan, a twenty year old Irish man, to come with him to an abandoned building. Ken tortured Patrick for hours, ending up killing him by accident making Patrick his third victim, the second being another passed out drunk. The killing annoyed Ken, Patrick was supposed to last longer.
When Patrick's body was discovered even the mean streets of New York got frightened. Ken was never caught, but when he tricked another young man into what he thought was an abandoned building, but it wasn't. Halfway through Frankie DeMarco and his men caught him in the act, and Frankie quickly figured out that Ken was Patrick's murderer. Frankie's men caught Ken, thinking he was a sick bastard even by their standards, and gave him a beating, and they would have killed him if Frankie hadn't intervened when inspiration struck. Ken was lead into another room, where a shopowner who had fallen behind on his payments was tied to a chair. At this point Ken was auditioning, and the fact the man was innocent didn't matter one bit, and when he was done even the hardened mobsters had turned noticeably whiter in their faces.
From that day Frankie made sure Ken had all he needed to live a comfortable life, but more important Ken had found somewhere he belonged, where he was respected, where he was feared. All Ken had to do was do his little magic once in a while, making himself to quite the boogeyman of the New York underworld, and for this Ken stayed loyal to Frankie. He didn't go look for his own victims anymore, he got all the victims he needed from Frankie.
After a while Frankie thought Ken should relocate since he had made a lot of enemies, and was sent down to Miami with Vincent DeMarco where Vincent made a name for himself with the help of Ken. Ken still makes trips back to New York when Frankie needs his expertize, and even to other big cities in the US. He also attends the social gatherings when Vincent asks him to, but when not torturing someone Ken prefers to spend his time in his private workshop, creating new fun toys he can use on some poor devil.
And another question which I forgot. How historically accurate willl this roleplay be?
Thanks for answering my first question. :)
Thanks for answering my first question. :)
This looks kinda interesting. Would it be present day, or a bit earlier?
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