Sign Up Sinister Nation [M - VSL]

[TheResplendent]

[color=red][size=1][font=Verdana][center][IMG]http://img92.imageshack.us/img92/6135/snki1.png[/IMG] [b][I]?Quam auribus teneo lupum, Sic vitas est?[/I][/b], that is the motto that each of us live by. Translated, it means ?Though I hold a wolf by its ears, such is our lives?. It?s engraved into our minds to remind us every day that being in between a rock and a hard place is simply unavoidable. Our responsibilities dictate that we accomplish our goal no matter what the difficulty, and to remember that though we service others for whatever reason we are not exempt from the laws of life. The kind of state that the city of [b]Traydor[/b] was in has called forth the necessity for our kind of work to evolve. Our kind has been around for as long as humans have existed, in one form or another. Now in the year 2075, on this nearly decrepit planet with few thriving and prosperous cities?we serve a greater significant purpose. We are [b]Mercenaries[/b], and in the great city of Traydor we are more relied on than the law itself. The city has grown corrupt and solicitous, with increases in crime and mortality rates greater then any number in the past decades. Of the main central continent, Traydor takes up about one fourth of the land, bordering the northern most coastline atop a large section of elevated earth and mountains that looks down at the water. It?s main entrance toward the center of the continent, which is open to the public; yet is kept under strict security which nobody considered too reliable anymore. As a play off of what the world?s once most thriving city, yet still most popular one has become?our agency is entitled [b]Sinister Nation[/b]. Our leader is Nicholas Fargo, 48 years of age and an efficient mercenary since before it became a sublimated profession. He grew up with ambitions to become a cop, but his life turned around after witnessing first hand the decline in fealty to the ?system? over the years. The police and country?s military both took advantage of the time of war and life soon became more about survival of the fittest. Rather then abandon hope like the rest of the city though, he immersed himself in the newly acquired lifestyle of the times and began doing jobs based on his own talents. Essentially he was a top mercenary that would perform any service for the right price, thus taking care of his own life during this time of turmoil. He recruited most of us based on our talents and took us off the streets and gave us a purpose. We trained and matured our status as mercenaries to live for ourselves and each other only at the expense of whomever it may have been hiring us. Our lifestyle flourished into a well known agency throughout the city about 2 years after our recruitment. Sinister Nation gained a great measure of influence within the city and despite still being a primarily underground business; we are relied on by our clients as well as hated by Traydor?s enforcement and security. It matters not who hires us however. In this time, people, like ourselves live only for themselves. They will pay whatever they need to in order to make their lives easier, whether that means killing someone who threatens their well being, recovering something precious for them, protecting something or someone, whatever it is. We lived an enjoyable life in comparison to the norm in modern day Traydor, as well as the rest of the world for that matter. We had money, food, sex, survival skills, and most of all we had each other?Sinister Nation was the closest thing to friends or family any of us ever had. However, unfortunate circumstances have recently befallen our ranks?our leader Nicholas was found murdered on the streets in broad daylight, which by itself was already odd since due to it?s positioning, Traydor only saw around 3-4 real hours of sunlight every day. Most of the time it was dark and raining, with illumination from the city?s lights the majority of the time. We were devastated by the news, he was like a father to so many of us. It wasn?t hard to believe however, Sinister Nation had just as many enemies as it did reliable clients. The TPD (Traydor Police Department) conducted a half-assed investigation simply as a formality, since they couldn?t have given two shits about the murder. We were assured that Fargo?s killer would be found?but we knew better then to rely on them. Though we are faced now with this hardship, we cannot be apathetic to our responsibilities. Sinister Nation must continue it?s business, we are still mercenaries and we still have to make a living. We still have each other, and as long as we live?we will honor Nicholas Fargo?s memory by being the best we can?and by avenging his death, one way or another. We will find who is responsible. [/color][/size][/font]

[color=sandybrown]Welcome to [b]Sinister Nation[/b], an RP in which you will take part as one of the talented Mercenaries whom were taken in by Nicholas Fargo. It will take place in the giant super-city of Traydor, where order is present but dwindles more and more every day, and fear and corruption have made a huge impact on it?s citizens and law enforcement. The agency is approached with many kinds of jobs every day, in which the process involves price negotiations based on the type of job, and the details required for successful accomplishment of the task. The Sinister Nation mercenaries must continue their lives in addition to conducting their own investigation on the death of their former leader. The course of the RP will promote a lot of interaction between the Sinister Nation members as well as displaying each of their individual talents and personalities during missions given to them by clients (decided on by you of course), along of course with the collective and individual efforts to solve the mystery of Nicholas Fargo?s murder. It will be run by an exceptionally lenient system where I will simply input every now and then when major events happen or when a collective mission of SN must commence. They will serve as a guideline for what posts should be about during that time. The majority of the time, people will be able to create their own scenarios as long as it involves interaction whether it be with other SN members, clients, tips on Fargo?s murder, members of crime syndicates or TPD officers, etc. Also nothing too deviant from the theme of the RP (i.e. no side jobs, in this time and age Sinister Nation is the closest to a professional mercenary agency that will ever come to be, Traydor is immensely populated and they receive jobs almost everyday.) The way missions are taken by Sinister Nation used to be by Fargo talking with the potential client and assigning the member who best fit the standards for the job. With Fargo?s death, it is now a common responsibility amongst the remaining members to make records of jobs taken and who has accepted the job. It was decided this way by the person Fargo deemed would be second in command and in the case of his death the new leader of the group, Elliot Cade. Elliot emphasizes a more cohesive atmosphere following Fargo?s death when it comes to the details of keeping the business running and doesn?t really view himself as much of a leader, despite being respected by the other members of SN. Even the newer members recognize that Elliot is a capable and well-tested mercenary, being the first of the current members to be taken in by Fargo almost 10 years ago. [/color][/center] [/color][/size][/font]

[center][b][color=red]More important details can be found in the [URL=http://www.otakuboards.com/showthread.php?p=747261#post747261]Underground Thread[/URL] [/color][/b][/center]

[color=white]Hopefully this proves interesting to many of you, i'm hoping for atleast somewhere between 8-10 sign ups (though i'm not against accepting more if the circumstances call for it). A good balance of male and female applicants as well is ideal. Acceptance will be based on quality of the sign ups of course. Enjoy, and thanks for yur interest if you sign up =). [b]Sign-up Sheet[/b]: [b]Name[/b]: [b]Nickname[/b]: Something your more commonly known as, or less commonly?your decision [b]Age[/b]: Anywhere between 20-30 [b]Appearance[/b]: Picture preferable, detailed description is a-okay as well [b]Weapon[/b]: One firearm (pairs of the same kind of gun is allowed) and one melee weapon (includes blades, knuckles, nightstick, etc). nothing too extravagant, like a bazooka or a giant halberd [b]Years as a Sinister Nation member[/b]: How long have you been with the company? No more than 10 years. [b]Specialty[/b]: Choose a primary and secondary specialty out of Retrievals / Reconnaissance / Assassinations / Protection / Wheel man ? (note if you are a wheel man it includes knowledge of multiple kinds of vehicles) [b]Personality[/b]: Pretty self-explanatory, make em interesting [b]Background[/b]: What happened before you became a member, what lead up to you becoming a member. Who do you know, who did you used to know, did you work for anybody before, where did you come from, past experiences, etc.[/color] [/color][/size][/font]

[Kitty]

[center][b]Name:[/b] Eva Ijizaru [b]Nickname:[/b] Sheath [b]Age:[/b] 21 [b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v332/PicKitty/RandomPicchus/Corbin.jpg][color=#ffffff]Eva[/color][/url] [b]Weapon:[/b] Eva carries around a pair of twelve inch daggers, each with a sheath made of a light metal alloy which she has earned her nickname for, and an array of small throwing knives and needles. She is also known for beating people up with her bare hands and blunt objects when she can?t or won?t use her sharper weapons. [b]Years as a Sinister Nation member:[/b] 5 [b]Specialty:[/b] Retrievals // Assassinations [b]Personality:[/b] Eva is interested in three things: money, fights, and men. She knows she can get them easily, and flaunts it with little to no discretion at all. She often gets drunk while off duty (and occasionally while still on duty), and proceeds to beat people up for saying anything she doesn?t appreciate. She likes to think of herself as a chivalrous knight with a ?naughty streak?, as she once, so eloquently, put it. But anyone that knows her well understands that she does, in fact, have a soft spot for the defenseless, and will help out those who ask her (when not drunk). [b]Background:[/b] Eva was born into a relatively happy home, her parents earning average salaries; enough to buy them a large apartment and feed four mouths. Eva's older brother, Raz, was five years her senior, and always seemed to be in some kind of trouble. One day, he came home and shot both of their parents to death, then left without another word. Eva was only six years old at the time, and did not know what to do with two bloody, rotting corpses, so she simply left the apartment. To this day, she has not seen hide nor hair of her brother, which is probably a good thing. It is also because of this incident that she refuses to touch a gun, though she has no objections to the use of them by others. Being six years old and out and about in the city was not an easy life, but Eva was lucky, and did not have to live it long. Only two or three weeks after her leaving home, she was 'living' behind a dumpster, eating whatever food she could find, when a young woman spotted her and immediately brought her home with her. Her name was Onia, and she happened to be working in a modern day brothel, and she and her 'co-workers' raised Eva like a younger sister, though they kept her away from their actual place of work. While Onia left the apartment, Eva explored the complex, and ran into a group of five boys that were very rowdy. With them, she often got into shouting matches, which sometimes escalated into fist fights. She lost at first, but eventually, she got practiced enough to take all of them down. When she finally did, she seemed to have earned their respect, and the six of them fought with each other for fun continuously after that. It was her relationship with those boys that made her love fighting so much. It wasn't until she turned fourteen that she actually followed her 'sister' to work, though Onia was unaware. While exploring the building, Eva ran into the owner of the brothel who saw potential in the young girl soon after scolding her for being clumsy. So, she was enlisted into the ranks of women who sold themselves as a living, though as only an 'apprentice' (essentially a chore girl that observed what went on while cleaning) until she turned eighteen. Though her stay there only lasted two short years, she learned some more things that shaped her character into what it is today. She discovered that money was [i]everything[/i], and that men were extremely fun to tease. Soon after her sixteenth birthday, a group of men came to the brothel and robbed the place after garnering entrance under false pretenses that they were there as customers. They took with them all the money in the building and the youngest girl there: Eva. She managed to kill three of them all on her own, but she could not take on all twelve of them, and was soon overpowered. But shortly after running away from the scene, the large men were stopped in their tracks by an older man that stood in their way, with two younger men behind him. His name was Nicholas Fargo, and he had heard the commotion while meeting with his companions, so he came to scope it out. He asked, kindly at first, if they would let the girl go and return what they had stolen, but the men refused to listen. Instead, he waved a hand and the other two killed the group of eight or nine almost instantly. [b]"Young lady, what is your name?"[/b] he asked, hand outstretched. [b]"... E-Eva. Eva Ijizaru,"[/b] she stuttered. She took his hand and he helped her off the ground. [b]"It's nice to meet you. My name is Nicholas Fargo. Well, Eva, would you like to go back to your home now?"[/b] Eva paused, thinking about it a moment. She had no desire to follow in Onia's footsteps, even though she felt indebted to her for raising her. Instead, she asked him if he would return all the money to Onia, instead of the brothel, so she could buy her way out of the job and get a bigger house somewhere nicer. He said he would, but only if she did something for him in return. [b]"What do you want me to do?"[/b] she asked, though the only thing that was on her mind was what the men requested back at the brothel. [b]"I heard what you managed to accomplish before we arrived. I'd like you to come and work for me."[/b] [b]"I won't have to go back to Lady Nala if I do, right?"[/b] she asked eagerly. The thought of leaving her strict taskmaster behind was extremely intriguing to her. Nicholas laughed and assured her that she would never have to see this 'Lady Nala' again as her subordinate. [b]"Then I'll do it!"[/b] Five years later, Eva is still the violent, money-obsessed tease she had become when she was a teenager, except now she has added alcohol to the mix as well. Her co-workers either find her antics amusing and attractive, or pitiful and annoying, with no inbetween. Despite this, she enjoys being around all of her fellow SN members, as she has always been quick to adopt others as siblings, and she believes they are all Nicholas' 'children' in a way. But since his death, the feelings she felt when her birth parents were killed have returned, and she is drinking more and more to get them out of her head. She swears to hunt down and brutally slaughter both of the killers, no matter what it takes. [/center]

[SIZE=1][b][color=#95D7FF]ooc ::[/color][/b] I still need to think of a background, so I?ll edit it in later. Glad you finally got this thing up. ^o^

[b][color=#95D7FF]edit ::[/color][/b] Background's up. :3 And no, Eva was [b]not[/b] a prostitute. She [i]almost[/i] was, but she was taken away before her eighteenth birthday. (Even Lady Nala had a little sense of decency. o3o) Just thought I'd make that clear. >.<;;[/SIZE]

[Kenso]

[size=1][align=center][b][u]Name[/u][/b]
Kenso Loryn

[b][u]Nickname[/u][/b]
Ace - Actually prefers to go by Kenso

[b][u]Age[/u][/b]
28

[b][u]Appearance[/u][/b]
[u][url="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v389/Maverick_Kossuth/SinisterNationPic.jpg"]Kenso[/url][/u]
[b][u]
Weapons[/u][/b]
Kenso carries two SiG526R [/size][size=1].40 S&W [/size][size=1]Crimson Tracer handguns. The 526 Series is a continuation of the old 226 series, using lighter alloys and adding recoil absorption technology. Its grip-built laser sight and naturally high accuracy makes for an exceedingly deadly weapon. He also carries dual [u][color=blue][url="http://www.swordsdirect.com/samurai_3000.html"]Samurai 3000 Katanas[/url][/color][/u] with black finish, in whose use he is highly proficient. Like most assassins, he is also exceedingly proficient in hand-to-hand combat, especially military-based CQC style.

[b][u]Years as a Sinister Nation Member[/u][/b]
5, nearing 6

[b][u]Specialty[/u][/b]
Assassination//Wheel-man ((Wheelman is something of a misnomer for Kenso - He specializes in air vehicles, though he is quite capable on the ground as well))

[b][u]Personality[/u][/b]
There are few people more serious than Kenso, at least when on the job. He wastes neither time, ammunition, or movements. Outside of combat, Kenso is a lot more fun. He likes his cars fast, his music loud, and his women a little on the wild side (though even he enjoys a nice, slow, seductive evening every once in a while).
He can't help but be intrigued by Eva, whose own carefree attitude towards men always strikes him as mildly promising. Kenso shows very little signs of compassion in most cases, but anything involving a child is sure to set off a protective side of him so huge that nothing is likely to get through him.
To him, women are not as defenseless as they pretend to be, as the female members of SN prove so well. Children, on the other hand, usually are, and the ones that aren't need their own kind of help. IN his mind, their are only two things more heinous than injuring a child, and those are rape and homicide, and homicide doesn't always rank higher on his list than injuring kids.

[b][u]Background[/u][/b]
Anyone can tell you that it's a hard life living in Traydor. It's an even harder life when your parents are cops. That's right. Two cops managed to raise a mercenary. Don't ask me how. They sure weren't trying to. They just wanted a normal kid. My dad even wanted me to be a cop like them. My mom figured it was up to me.

But there was one thing I learned from them. I did NOT want to be a cop. No way, no how. Why bother? They don't do anything in this waste. It was a normal life. My parents managed to teach me well before I started school, and I earned myself a scholarship into a private school, which I proceeded to get out of early, moving to the next level of schooling. All total, I graduated three years early. Nice thing about that is that your school is taken care of by colleges. Bad thing about that is that you never really fit in with anyone. Sure, when I was 15 I didn't stick out at all by looks (I was an early bloomer, as some people are), but once someone asked my age, that was it.

Until I was 18, I lived with my parents. Simple, easy life really. I didn't bother with a job. There was no need for one at the time. I got my car and started racing it. My parents didn't really approve, but they knew they couldn't really stop me either. I signed up for the military as early as I could, entering basic on my 18th birthday.

At first, I got put into evasive driving courses, having previously demonstrated my driving prowess (my recruiter was a fellow racer). Later, I moved into actual special operations. Nothing difficult, just basic weapon use and CQC. But I excelled. I found the weapons I liked and mastered them. Back then I used knives, not katanas. I'm still fairly decent with the knives. I loved CQC, loved the solid feel of muscle and bone clashing against itself, the cracking of bones, the solid thud of a body hitting the ground. And so I mastered that also.

But then, it happened. Some fool just out of training made a rookie mistake. He left his safety off, and wound up putting a bullet in my kneecap. God-damned moron. The military didn't want me in special forces after my knee reconstruction. They had enough other potential candidates. They could afford to get rid of me, even if they would have to pay me medical pension.

So I was home again, for maybe a year. It was a botched mugging. Never break into the home of two cops and ex-special forces. Unfortunately, my parents were overpowered, only because it had happened so fast. They went down fighting, both killing two of the would-be theives, out of 5. The last one tried to run from me, but I wasn't allowing that. I killed him. The police didn't bother to ask questions. They usually didn't when their own were killed and someone had finished the people who'd done it.

But that was when HE found me. Nicholas Fargo. The cops may not have made a big deal of the case, but the media did. The media loved cop-killings. It was good ratings. And you couldn't have a story like this without pointing me out. After all, I'd killed one of the muggers.

It was a simple proposition. Get paid better money for the job I used to do, and work with less rules. There was nothing to argue with really. In the beginning, I was a useful contact. I knew cops, could get information legally that no one else could. All those cops are dead or gone now. No one stays a cop for long in this city. Not unless they were completely insane.

Work never proposed a problem. Jobs were easy, my 'co-workers' fun for the most part, though for some reason I passed up easy opportunities involving them. Maybe I'd chase down Eva one of these days.

But now he's gone...They took him...I don't know who they is yet. I'm thinking the Murdock Brothers, but Methais Corbin isn't exactly off my radar either. I don't think it's Kenji. I don't think he has the guts, not to mention I don't think he'd want to risk losing a good client.

I [b]will[/b] find out.[/align]
[/size]

[Veritas]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Name[/b]: Jack Arista[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Nickname[/b]: Ghost[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Age[/b]: 22[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Appearance[/b]: [/color][/size][url="http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=20461"][size=1][color=dimgray]Here[/color][/size][/url][size=1][color=dimgray], although his outfit is black. Jack stands at about 6' and weighs a little over 160. Through regular excercise he has a lean, but strong muscular build. Over his outfit he almost always has on some sort of coat, ranging from a Varsity jacket, to a trenchcoat.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Weapon[/b]: Two [/color][/size][url="http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=24702"][size=1][color=dimgray]9mm S&W PX4 Storm[/color][/size][/url][size=1][color=dimgray] pistols with extended clips 16 shots, plus one in the chamber. He keeps them in holsters on the back of his belt, one has the words "Mors Certa" engraved while the other has the end "Hora Uncerta", something Nicholas once told him. He also carries a retractable ninja stick, which he can use lethally or non. It is about 7 inches closed while 27" extended.[/color][/size]


[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Years as a Sinister Nation member[/b]: 7[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Specialty[/b]: Wheel Man / Retrievals[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Personality[/b]: Jack likes to shoot stuff and drive fast, the rest of life just follows along. Around friends he is loud and always alittle crazy (even more so drunk), he has the ability to blend into his surroundings, whether it be a crowd, or a dim room. Most people tend not to notice him, unless he wills it. Although he puts on a good act, Jack is rather cold and emotionless to people he doesn't know and can't trust. Booze, women and crazy stunts are about the only things that make him emotional, or as Nicholas used to tell him "Pain, Adrenaline, and a woman's warmths let you know your alive kid". A master of drunken driving or so he says, he prefers to with little buzz for the fact thinks too much and it levels him down, makes him a better driver, though most people can't tell the difference either way.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]Background[/b]: Jack was born to a single mother after a rape. No one was charged, in matter of fact Jack's own mother never really seemed to want someone punished for it. Throughout his years his mom had guy in and out of the house constantly, the names and faces are a whirwind to think about, a Mark one night, a Katsu another. Other than that nothing was really bad, the guys ignored him, he ignored them, but his mom ignored him too. [/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]One night about when he was 14 he got in a fight with his mom after she was raped again. [b]"The reason my dad was never found is you probably can't remember who you sleep with, let alone who rapes you"[/b] He screamed. Lashing out blindly she opened his eyes, [b]"Your dad is Methias Corbin, the reason I never pressed on with the charges, was scared for my life, and I knew he'd be out of jail before the weekend".[/b] Angry and shocked, Jack ran away, he ran to the last person he wanted to face but one he thought might help, Methias.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]It was a long shot, but Jack had nothing to lose, and no desire to return home. He managed to follow Methias to one of his frequented bars. It was rather easy for him to get inside, almost just walking through the front door, and it was even easier to find Methias. The man was surrounded by women, alchohol, and bodyguards. Fighting his way to face the man a body guard grabbed him [b]"Your my dad"[/b], he said expecting some kind of reaction other than what he got. The man tilted his head and laughed replying, "[b]Take a numba, kid[/b]". Jack had hoped for something, anything, he hated the man, but needed help with no where to go. [/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]As the body guard started to walk him out Methias told him to wait, "[b]How'd ya get in here kid, well never mind that, you got some skills if you can make it this far, Maybe ya got some of my blood afta all, I'ma help ya out"[/b]. [/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]With that said Jack was given a small time drug peddling job, and a small hell hole to sleep. He could get in and out of places without being noticed, and he did well, but the life was miserable. Rats and roaches were almost as bad as the druggies themself. Jack also took more than his fair share of beatings, whether it was from a customer, not satisfied, or one of Corbin's lackeys.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]"[b]You little b******, came up short again, your lucky Methias likes you, otherwise you'd be ********* dead by now"[/b] A man said knocking Jack to the ground and repeatedly kicking him. Though as he got ready to stomp on him someone stopped the man with a faint metallic click, leaving his boot hovering in mid air. [b]"I wouldn't put my foot down if I were you, it'd be a damn shame if blood got on your shirt"[/b] a hard voice said, hard but gentle. The man took a cautious step back and turned and left, [b]"The kids no good anyways, nothin but a useless punk".[/b][/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]The man knelt down to Jack, and carefully helped him to his feet. [b]"You alright boy, can ya walk?"[/b] He said looking over Jack carefully checking for anything serious.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"I'm fine wouldn't be the first beatin I've taken from him, thanks though, one of these days I'll kill him[/b]" Jack said standing brushing himself off, his knees slightly quivering.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"Oh ya so your a strong kid, gonna be a bad ***, let me ask you this, do you want more for yourself, something better than this hell hole life you have?"[/b] The man asked now standing tall.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"What do you mean?"[/b] [/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"I have something of an organization, no a family so to say, we're mercinaries, if you wan't I'll teach you the trade, hell you'll be alot better off than stayin a slave to Methias's ***"[/b] The man said glancing at the way the henchman left.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"For free, right, one thing I've learned is nothing free, and nothing is what it seems"[/b] Jack said turning away.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"I just like to look out for people, punks especially, but have it your way kid"[/b] The man replied turning away.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]"[b]Wait, what's your name"[/b] The boy asked curiously.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray][b]"Nicholas Fargo, Founder of Sinister Nation[/b]" The man replied proudly, the pride that comes from accomplishment, accomplishment when no one thinks you can do it.[/color][/size]

[size=1][color=dimgray]From that day foward Jack has been a member of Sinister, Nicholas teaching him the basics of mercinary work, and perfecting his natural talents. Jack is determined to use what Nicholas gave him, to avenge him. The name Nicholas Fargo is branded into everyone's mind, and his legacy is Sinister Nation, the fuse has been lit. As Nicholas once told Jack, [b]"Mors Certa, Hora Uncerta...... Death is Certain, its Hour Uncertain"[/b] And death is certain for those who did this.[/color][/size]


[color=dimgray]OOC: I hope this is ok BK, let me know if there is anything I need to change.[/color]

[Tekkaman]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][i]Excellently done, [color=darkred][b]BK[/b][/color]. Sign me up; please and thank you.[/i][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Name:[/color][/b] Darrel Hinton[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Nickname:[/color][/b] Lysander [b](Greek: 'Liberator')[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[size=2][font=Palatino Linotype][b][color=#8b0000]Age:[/color][/b][color=#006400] 21 years old[/color][/font][/size]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred][/color][/b][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][color=darkred][b]Appearance: [/b][url="http://img247.imageshack.us/img247/5627/hakuiz1.jpg"][color=darkred]Lysander[/color][/url][/color][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred][/color][/b][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Weapon #1[/color][/b]: Firearm - 1x [/color][/size][/font][url="http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k307/KeybladeAcheron/untitled.jpg"][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkred].45 Desert Eagle[/color][/size][/font][/url][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen] [b](No modifications added and 30 rounds of ammunition in 6 round clips - including the one already loaded)[/b][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred][/color][/b][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Weapon #2[/color][/b]: Melee - 1x [/color][/size][/font][url="http://i91.photobucket.com/albums/k307/KeybladeAcheron/untitled1.jpg"][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkred]Butterfly Blade[/color][/size][/font][/url][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen] [b](Used as a last resort)[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Years as a Sinister Nation Member[/color][/b]: 3 years[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Specialty[/color][/b]: Reconnaissance / Assassination [/color][/size][/font][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b](Lysander has learned to use his Desert Eagle as a semi-sniping weapon via years of practice on the team but would prefer to get in and out with any specified information without dectection.)[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Personality[/color][/b]: Darrel Hinton, a.k.a. Lysander, was [b](and still is)[/b] a loner by trade. He enjoys to talk with others but after a few hours - [i]at the most[/i] - he spaces out, dreaming of doing his job with his team of Sinister Nation. A Sagitarrius - [i]born on November 26th, 1984[/i] - at heart, Lysander loves adventure, keeping his heart moving just to enjoy the simple pleasures of what he does. Though he doesn't want to cut his life tragically short [b](i.e. Bullet in the skull, chopped off limbs, etc...)[/b], Lysander feels that life just couldn't be worth living at all without the occasional adrenaline pumping in your bloodstream; that extra boost of energy making you feel as if you can do anything you want and walk away unscathed. Putting it in its simplest context, Lysander - [i]as his nickname / codename implies [/i]- has always been a thrill seeker - [i]'liberated' from his life[/i].[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b][color=darkred]Background[/color][/b]: Darrel Hinton lived with his mother in the city of Traydor all his life, though he stayed in the house daily since his mother didn't want him getting into trouble - [i]or dead[/i]. Darrel never got the chance to know his father, unbeknownst to Darrel that his mother pushed his father away from him. During the days, Darrel's mother would leave him in the house - [i]almost daily[/i] - working doubles to support themselves in a meager apartment that she could barely afford with minimal-wage paychecks - [i]let alone buying much food afterwards[/i]. After she would get home, finally taking a day off of her feet, she would usually yell at Darrel for not completing house chores and beat him constantly with whatever she could find that was blunt. During Darrel's childhood - [i]between the ages of 7 and 9 [/i]- all of these things were going on in Darrel's life and as a result, caused Darrel to become distant, detatched and nonchalant in times of anger.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]As Darrel became 18, he had his life made. Although he had still carried all of his previous emotions as a child; Darrel was kind, caring and considerate towards others. He considered himself a gentleman and was fairly attractive to most types of women. He became intellegent, able to carry out decent conversations with even the most predigious of people; but even stll, Darrel kept a few skeletons in his closet - [i]he always had[/i]; the thrill of the moment being what he wanted most out of life. He had graduated from school with honors and told his mother that he would be joining the Active Army days afterwards - [i]meaning he wouldn't be coming back[/i] [b](if he didn't want to, that is)[/b]. His mother, ever concerned with Darrel's well being, hugged him tight and told him that she loved him and that she was so proud.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][i]It was too late for that; it was too late for any of it.[/i][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]Days later, as Darrel got into the black limousine - [i]the car forever leaving his mother and their home[/i] - he sat parallel to Nicholas Fargo, the grey-haired man's face concealed with shadow while he smoked. Darrel felt no remorse for lying about the military to his mom, telling himself that it would be the last time he would ever lie to her again. As the limousine traveled down the pavement, Darrel took a deep drag of the second-hand smoke that Nicholas exhaled from inside, a smile forming unconciously on Darrel's face. Reality was so bliss for him at that moment that it almost made him snicker uncontrollably. Instead Darrel sat and smiled at the shadowed man while he finished his last drag. Mr. Fargo then rolled down the automatic window and flicked the butt out before rolling it back up. Darrel had simply hoped that this 'interview' would go well since it would be his only chance to escape his mother.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"So... Darrel, is it."[/b] Mr. Fargo said with a slight rasp in his voice. [b]"I saw you skipping school a week ago, correct?"[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Yes sir."[/b] Darrel replied.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Why, may I ask?"[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"My mother... she's a real case sometimes, you know? I can't stand her some of the time and I honestly want to kill her most others."[/b] Darrel began to rub his eyes with his left thumb and index fingers. [b]"I... skipped school... because... i don't know."[/b] Darrel's right fist punched his left hand in frusteration.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"...And we're you serious when you told me that same day you wanted to find a full time job that was also 'an exciting line of work'?"[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Yes sir, I was. I need to escape from my mother and her poisionus parenting. So if you know anyone sir, i'll start as soon as possible and work as long as they want me."[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]Darrel started to put his hands on Mr. Fargo's knees; Mr. Fargo, however, beat the boy by putting a .45 Desert Eagle on his hands, signaling for him to grab it. Darrel, instead, looked at him blankly.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Lysander."[/b] the man said.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Excuse me."[/b] Darrel said, squinting his eyes as he heard the word.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"It's greek for 'Liberator'. In your case, you're liberating yourself."[/b] Mr. Fargo said, still shadowed. [b]"It's your new name from now on. And take the weapon kid, it's your's also."[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"...Under what conditions, sir?" [/b]Darrel was too smart to know that you don't get something for nothing.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"Practice with it. Take care of it. Every chance you get. That... and one other thing."[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]Darrel smiled a half-grin, knowing there was going to be more on the table for a free weapon. [b]"What's that?"[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]Nicholas Fargo leaned past the shadows, allowing his face to be seen to [color=darkred][strike][/color]Darrel[color=darkred][/strike][/color] Lysander.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen][b]"You still interested in a job, kid?"[/b][/color][/size][/font]

[center][b][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkred]==========O==========[/color][/size][/font][/b][/center]

[left][font=Palatino Linotype][size=2][color=darkgreen]I decided to knock it all out in one day. Hopefully I have nothing else to add and I hope I filled your quota, [b][color=darkred]BK[/color][/b].[b] =][/b][/color][/size][/font][/left]

[Sakura]

[SIZE=1][strike][B]OOC:[/B] *Cries* You didn't tell me you were putting it up~! Sorry I haven't done much but I have a date with a Periodontist ><"
[B]EDIT:[/B] Did appearance and weapons, but too tired to do anything else.
[B]EDIT2:[/B] Just personality left to do, won't be long now.[/strike]
[B]EDIT3:[/B] Done, may edit the personality still though because it was done pretty quickly.

[COLOR=Navy][B]Name:[/B] Clara Gascoyne [I][Pronounced "Gas-coin"][/I]

[B]Nickname:[/B] Clyne (More often used)

[B]Age:[/B] 25

[B]Appearance:[/B] [URL=http://img303.imageshack.us/img303/9914/aich8.jpg]Here[/URL]. Clyne is a pale individual, has been since she was a child, and for some reason as she grew up, even though she spent a lot of time outdoors, she never tanned or burned. Even though she's 25, she has still kept some of her childish features, but her face is more refined into that of an adult's. She stands at 5'5"; her regular attire is most often made of a black leather pants that cling to her body like a second skin, and a stretchy, black or dark blue long sleeved top, though she often pushes the sleeves up above her elbow, she also chooses to wear wrist length leather gloves most of the time. Her goggles are always found on her head, being helpful because of the variety of functions they serve; like just regular goggles for seeing through when vision is obscured, x-ray, infra-red, UV, magnification, night vision, etc. which comes in handy on missions.

[B]Weapon:[/B] A pair of [URL=http://img426.imageshack.us/img426/4462/jericho6ic.jpg]Jericho 941FBLs[/URL] in holsters at her waist, and a [URL=http://img124.imageshack.us/img124/6479/samurai3000ninja7bj.jpg]Sword[/URL] fondly named Akatsuki strapped across her back with its hilt poking over her right shoulder for easy access.

[B]Years as a Sinister Nation member:[/B] 9 years and 8 months

[B]Specialty:[/B] Assassinations // Reconnaissance

[B]Personality:[/B] Clyne is a serious woman, going to many lengths to get what she wants. Being an assassin by trade makes her quite unapproachable for some. She?s had a rough childhood and still feels the horrors from that time in her life, often feeling like it is unescapable, which it is. Though first impressions of her are hostile, she?s actually a fun person to hang around after you?re used to her, often smiling with half of her mouth rather than her whole. She enjoys her music to be pumping and loud, which is the exact opposite to how she wants her environment to be when working. When she?s working she needs everything quiet, and she isn?t afraid to get aggressive and/or kill any colleagues if they?re going to give their position away, because assassin work has to be a stealthy thing. She likes everything fast; cars, food, sex, and deaths. She?s a sneaky one and has the natural skill of being able to tread silently and meld into the shadows. She?s a strong fighter, and has an uncanny aim, rarely missing her target if she?s dead set on hitting it. As for her taste in men, well?she just wants someone that?ll accept her for herself, and not want her to be someone she?s not. She?s been lonely for many years and tells others that she doesn?t care, but in reality she does want someone to care for her, because everyone needs one, no matter what they may say. Clyne can easily put on a mask to cover her emotions, it?s seriously believable and people are always fooled, which does come in handy. All in all, she?s a girl that is serious about her business, but is wild and carefree when she?s being truly open and herself.

[B]Background:[/B] When I was born, no one knew the amounts of pain I would feel even during my childhood years. So; not long after I could understand things that were being said to me, my father immediately cast blames on me for the death of my mother because she had died shortly after giving birth to me. I did have an elder brother however; he was 13 and secretly he?d tell me that it wasn?t my fault and he told me that he hoped I wouldn?t have to endure what he was put through, I never understood that. 2 years later, when I was 7 the news returned to the house that my brother had died. My father had an angry appearance and his fists were clenched, but somehow I knew that he was angry at my brother, not at whatever had killed him. When I asked him about how he died, he would brush me off. At 8 he decided I was able enough to do things for him, and I practically became his slave, working tirelessly all day. I learned to hate him quite easily for many reasons, a few to list being; his simple dismissal of my late mother, the obnoxious whores he brought home every night, treating me as his slave, and for teaching me how to be a ruthless killer.

That?s right; at the age of 8 he started teaching me how to use weapons for killing, and not just normal killing; swift and silent killing. I can still remember my first kill as clearly as the day it happened? He forced me to kill Maxine; our pet Labrador, he always hated her. I refused and got a good ten lashings on my bare back for the trouble. Finally I did with tears rolling down my cheeks. I moved with the wind, so it was blowing towards me so my scent wouldn?t be carried to Maxine?s excellent nose. With a deep breath I snuck up to my faithful companion for years and palmed my knife, grabbing her muzzle; holding it closed and tilting backwards with my left hand as the knife in my right flashed once creating a gape in her throat across her jugular. I released and backed away, I tried to turn away but he held me there, forcing me to watch Maxine pant as she died, crimson blood staining the grass. My father sneered as he walked back toward the house, kicking the corpse as he walked past which rolled the dog onto its back, staring up at the sky. I remember kneeling beside Maxine, crying over her death and burying my hands in her fur as the body cooled rapidly. I wasn?t thinking of leaving the body until [I]he[/I] called, wanting something else done no less. Later when I was going to go out to the body again, I saw that it had disappeared. I later found out that it had been disposed of in the large collection bin.

I was forced to train every day, repeating everything until he was utterly satisfied. He often had me practising on birds that flew into the backyard because birds are twitchy and are hard to sneak up on. Whenever I failed or was below par he would give me lashings, and there would be nothing I could do about it as it would be worse if I protested. He trained me to use a whole variety of weapons, from blades, to projectiles, to hand-to-hand, to melee. And finally when I was 13 he deemed me as ready. Not perfect, but ready. He told me that, and at the time I didn?t know what he meant until that fated day, my 13th birthday.

I was going about my usual chores; washing the clothes, dusting, vacuuming, etc. I heard the shrill call of a metal whistle which my father used to call me; the reach was the entire estate. I hurriedly dropped the task I was doing (which happened to be dusting the ornaments in the trophy room) and rushed through the large house to where my father was, in the lounge. I halted in my tracks, eyeing the stranger beside him cautiously. My father commanded me to come forward, which I jumped to do; kneeling in front of the glass coffee table that stood between me and them. I don?t remember the exact conversation we had there but I do remember it was the beginning of the end. This man was to be my boss, his name was Mr Clerval and I was told that he was an old acquaintance of my father. I also remember him commenting that he hoped I would serve as well as my brother did. Another comment made that I wasn?t sure about.

So, my father practically sold me to this man that I?d never met before because they shook hands and I was told to pack all of my things, which I did and I followed Mr Clerval, glad to leave the wretched place that I had grown up in. But it only got worse in my new home. I would have an hour or two of academic study everyday, then the rest of the day would be spent training. I discovered it was like a training grounds because I wasn?t the only person there. There were young children, about 8, up to teenagers of around 19. I soon realised that this is where my brother had been trained, and he had been well known for his jobs. I was trained hard, and punished constantly because the instructors there said I wasn?t satisfactorily trained for someone of my age. I worked hard at it; I soon felt the drive and desire to be the best and I soon was the top of my year group. Finally I was taken on missions at 14, often just serving as a simple bodyguard even though it wasn?t my speciality. Never the less, I was given top notch weapons to use and I was happy.

When I was 15 I was brought on a mission that I didn?t know would change my life forever. I was at last good enough that I went out on guard missions on my own, protecting Mr Clerval while there were several others as back up. The mission was a weapons transaction, the clients being Kenji and Hana, along with two other men, a man by the name of Nicholas Fargo, and his bodyguard Elliot Cade. Anyhow, Mr Clerval tried to trump the people, trying to take the weapons without paying and a fight began. I found myself fighting against Elliot. During the fight I didn?t realise that the back up guards had taken Clerval and had left, left me alone amongst the enemy. I found myself strangely alone and was unsure of what to do. I remember that I had just sat there at the meeting point, staring blankly as I realised there was no going back. If I returned they would kill me on the spot because I failed my mission of having the transaction go across without problems, the problem being that they never got away with the weapons. I noticed that Elliot had cleaned up the area, trying to make it seem as if nothing had happened and I had no other choice than to approach him. It was a little hostile but I asked him and Nicholas Fargo about the company. Mr Fargo was welcoming and told me everything before inviting me to join. Having nothing else I jumped at the chance, and I started working for him.

Elliot and I started off a little roughly because of our first meetings but we quickly overcame our differences and are now good friends and can work together well. As I worked for Nicholas it was the first time that I was asked about what it was I was good at, my answers being silence and swiftness; he suggested that I go into Assassination and Reconnaissance and I decided to go with it. He was right and I did well in it, better than if I served as Protections. I was embraced into the Sinister Nation family and I felt like I blended straight in, forgetting about my past and focussing on my future with the company, actually enjoying the life of being a mercenary.

Now Nicholas is dead, he was like a father to me for years, and I [I]am[/I] going to find out who did it. And when I do?they?ll regret it, I?ll make sure of that.
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[TheResplendent]

[size=1]ooc: Thx to everyone who signed up so far, i'm glad this one is interesting to other people =).

[center]* * * * *[/center]

[color=darkred]
[b]Name[/b]: Elliot Cade
[b]Nickname[/b]: Elliot prefers to be called by his name, but sometimes introduces himself as "The Elegant Rogue" to his clients.
[b]Age[/b]: 26
[b]Appearance[/b]: [URL=http://img136.imageshack.us/img136/5124/ecadeso0.png]Elliot[/URL]

[b]Weapon[/b]: Elliot uses a custom long barreled [URL= http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/9056/customedepm7.jpg]Desert Eagle .50[/URL]. An extremely powerful handgun, with a 3 round burst capability (not often used) and an 18-bullet magazine. This type of gun is often difficult to handle, but Elliot has dedicated a lot of his time to becoming skilled with it. He also carries a customized [URL= http://img163.imageshack.us/img163/8096/kindjalwt5.jpg]Kindjal styled dagger[/URL] which also includes a knuckle guard (not seen in the picture).
[b]Years as a Sinister Nation member[/b]: 10 Years
[b]Specialty[/b]: Protection / Assassination

[b]Personality[/b]:

Elliot is normally easy-going and fun to be around off the job. He enjoys the advantages to the life Sinister Nation lives in comparison to many of the other citizens of Traydor. Following Nicholas?s death however he became discouraged. With the help of his fellow SN members however, he was able to recompose himself for the most part. He usually appears to be his normal self, but has moments where he?ll be lost in thought. He doesn?t feel distant from any of the other members, but is closer with some than others. Those who know him best know him to be honest about his feelings for the most part, though he has a sarcastic side to him which helps to lighten the mood at times and can annoy at other times.

Taking the role of new leader, he prefers that everybody takes an equal effort in keeping the business afloat rather then handle all the details himself. He appreciates the respect given to him by the other SN members, and in turn has respect for all of them as well. He also prefers not to be treated any differently because of his new status.

Elliot tends to reflect a lot on the past, and works hard for SN to have a bright future through the chaos of the times. He looks out for himself and SN only, which is essential for their survival since Traydor?s atmosphere can often be a ?Survival of the Fittest? type. He enjoys himself as much as possible by using the profits he makes from missions for popular night spots and customizing his car and weapons. Elliot also has a profound interest in attractive, fun-loving and aggressive women.

[b]Background[/b]:

Elliot?s parents held a very loose interest in him. Still he looked up to his father especially at a young age because of how he would always say, ?everything will be alright.? At the age of 12, he stopped believing it after his father was killed in a car accident on one of the highways, involving a high-speed chase between some criminals and the TPD. His mother was too distraught and she left Traydor, leaving a sleeping Elliot in his bed without saying a word. She called social services to take Elliot into a foster home the next day, but Elliot ran off. He was afraid of what his life would be like without both of his parents and hated the idea of being in a foster home.

He lived on the streets and got along by being a beggar and a thief. Since the atmosphere of Traydor was a very sketchy one, he seemed to fit in with the trends. He came across very few people who actually felt sorry enough for him to take him in for a couple of days or even willingly give him money or food. The two years he spent living that way made him bitter toward people and made him wish he could be able to survive on his own, and have the strength to defend himself. He had only a knife and whatever clothes he could find to live on.

One day, Elliot robbed an elderly woman and ran off with her purse. He was stopped by a large man with black hair and a long black coat. He looked down at Elliot as he tried to slash at him with the knife. The man grabbed his arm and smacked him to the ground, took the knife from him and returned the purse to the woman. He walked back over to Elliot who was fighting back tears of frustration with anger.

[b]?Boy, I bet you wish you were stronger, so you could fight me back?don?t you??[/b] the man said.

Elliot didn?t speak, but tried to run away figuring it wasn?t worth getting beat up over. He couldn?t get far however, the man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. Elliot flailed his arms about and tried to break free, but to no avail.

[b]?What?s your name??[/b] the man asked. Again Elliot refused to answer, as he continued to struggle.

The man lifted him off the ground slightly and dropped him down. He walked over to a nearby food vendor, pulled out a bag of money and proceeded to buy a sandwich. He walked back over to a kneeling Elliot and tossed it at him.

[b]?In this city, everyone has no choice but to look out only for themselves. Very few people will actually stop to give a damn about things that don?t directly affect them. This will be a parting gift from me to you, since you don?t want to tell me your name. But don?t count on people being this nice to little punks like you too often. And if you?re going to rob someone again, you make sure someone else isn?t around to **** you over too, just like I was back there.?[/b]

The man walked away as Elliot just stayed silent, taking in those words. He looked down at the wrapped up sandwich and put a confused look on his face. Nobody had ever actually stopped to take that much time from their lives to deal with him, whether it be in a good or bad manner. He didn?t know why, but when he looked back up at the man as he was walking away?he got an image of what he wanted to be. He wanted to be strong enough to be able to look after himself, just like he wished he could after living on the streets for so long, and just like the man had said to him. He stood up and wiped away a few tears from his cheeks. He ran a few steps, so just to be within range of the man to be heard.

[b]?Elliot! My name is Elliot!?[/b] he shouted, hoping to be heard.

The man stopped and turned around, he walked back slowly, as a slightly intimidated Elliot took a few steps back out of caution. The man stopped a few feet away and laughed a brief second to himself.

[b]?Is that so? Well Elliot, my name is Nicholas?[/b]

Nicholas threw Elliot?s knife to the ground in front of him and kicked it over. He turned his back and started to walk.

[b]?If you want to learn how to make the best out of this piece of **** city, then hurry up,?[/b] Nicholas said, leaning his head back. Elliot looked down at the knife for a few seconds and then back up at Nicholas. His confusion lasted momentarily, before he realized the sincerity in Nicholas?s voice. He picked up the knife and ran to catch up with his savior.

For the next twelve years, Nicholas Fargo gave Elliot a reason to live again and taught him everything he needed to know about surviving on the streets of Traydor and to be self-reliant. He also learned how to use different types of bladed weapons. They lived together and Nicholas would take jobs as a mercenary to support them. When Elliot turned 16 he was taught how to use a firearm and Nicholas began to train him to be a mercenary. The two became close to one another, though not so much in a father/son sense. They were like best friends, sharing similar interests and learning things from each other?though Elliot learned much more from Nicholas.

Elliot became a member of Sinister Nation officially, and saw the headquarters for the first time. From then on, life became easier and it was like fun and games mixed with business. Elliot left his parents to the ghosts of the past, and embraced the life of a professional mercenary, and therefore an indulgent life as well of money, women, and never being hungry again. Elliot didn?t care about the jobs that needed to be done, or the negative relations with the TPD. It was as Nicholas taught him since that very first day.

[b][u]In this day and age, the most important thing is to look out for oneself and his loved ones. Do not let anybody ever take advantage of you.[/u][/b]

Now following the death of Nicholas, Elliot realizes that he must continue on for the sake of himself and the company, but his primary concern ultimately lies with finding the person or people responsible for the murder of his former leader, mentor, and friend.
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[Doublehex]

[CENTER][B][U]CHARACTER APPLICATION[/U][/B]
[URL=http://dcs.ffproject.net/alex/alex.htm]SITE LINK[/URL][/CENTER]

[RIGHT][color=white] [b]Name[/b]: Alexander Daimonas [Alexander is a Greek name for ?guardian, defender of mankind', whereas Daimonas is the Greek work for 'demon'. Thus, Alexander is the ?guardian of demons.] [b]Nickname[/b]: Alex [b]Age[/b]: 24 [b]Weapon[/b]: 'Skoll' class of blades, and two custom made pistols called Thanatos and Moira. [Thanatos and Moira are, you guessed it, Greek for 'Fate' and Death'. Pretty fitting considering what they're primary purposes are.] [b]Years as a Sinister Nation member[/b]: Nine Years [b]Specialty[/b]: Assassinations // Protection Don't let the above selection fool you, however - Alex in no way enters or leaves the crime scene quietly, nor does he put others interest before his life. He goes in with a bang most of the time, and you'd best bet on your mother's grave that he leaves with an explosion here or there. And even if he is good at saving other people's butts, don't exactly expect him to save yours. Chances are, if it will keep his hands from getting any dirtier than they already are, he won't tackle you to save you from that storm of bullets coming your way. [b]Personality[/b]: If you ever wanted to meet a cocky, self righteous mercenary, no need to look more further than in Alex. Selfish is too small a word to describe the way he grabs every morsel for himself, licks at the last drop of beer, and hordes all of the prostitutes and whores to himself. And anyone who fought him in a bar brawl would tell you that he uses his cockiness to his advantage, using every dirty name he can call people to bring down their guard - and that isn't even considering his ability to fight dirty. He's infamous for the way he knee guts his targets, and his head butts have been known to knock thugs out for days. He can, and he will, break every rule in the book to get the job done. [b]Background[/b]: Alex doesn't exactly remember his past before his thirteenth birthday, but to be truthfully honest, he doesn't give a **** for it. He could care less if his family was as low as dirty or higher than God. Anybody who was willing to leave a kid on the streets isn't worth remembering in his book. He does remember, however, what it was like before he met the 'great' Nicholas Fargo. He remembered the cold nights near the dumpsters. He remembered how everyday was a constant fight for survival. He could never forget how he was reduced to nothing but an animal, scraping for food. And he hated Nicholas for saving him from it. He loved that life. He loved how he had to actually fight harder than the rest for whatever it was he needed to survive. He lusted for that feeling of superiority over the other homeless brats whenever he got what they wanted. He could never forget the day when he first met Nicholas. He was on the streets, and a strange man was walking towards him. Not in the way that he was actively seeking for him - rather he was just heading Alex's direction. Regardless, the moment the man passed by Alex, he slipped his hand into the man's coat pocket and stole some money. He was caught almost immediately by a perceptive policeman, and he would of had spent God knows how long in the pound if the man hadn't decided to take Alex in for himself. The man secretly promised Alex a good life, a life where he would be above the common scum. Alex believed him. He eventually saw it as a lie. Instead of being the highest of the weak and incompetent, he became the lowest of the mighty. He was no longer in charge of his life. Fargo was his ruler and master now. And unlike the others, who mourned Fargo's death, Alex couldn't be happier. Now, although he is officially a part of the Sinister Nations, the rest barely see him. He is a Lone Wolf, and proud of it. He'll help the Nation from time to time, if it suits his agenda (and because they are, whether Alex would admit it or not, the closest thing to a family he'll ever have).[/color][/RIGHT]

[Disenchanted]

[COLOR=DarkGreen][INDENT][SIZE=1]
[B][COLOR=SandyBrown]EDIT: I'm all done!! Hope this is ok, please let me know if anything needs to be changed.[/COLOR][/B]

[CENTER]+ + +[/CENTER]

[B]Name:[/B] Octavia Logan

[B]Nickname:[/B] Logan [people just refer to her by her last name.]

[B]Age:[/B] 26

[B]Appearance:[/B][URL=http://img178.imageshack.us/img178/4647/wheedy4.png] Octavia [/URL]
Octavia likes to wear tight fitting clothes, usually black or dark colours, she wears military style boots. Her hair is pitch black and is rarely tied back; her eyes are a light brown colour with flecks of green. Her skin is pale and has no blemishes whatsoever, she has a slight Asian apperance allthough she doesn't know what side of her family it comes from.


[B]Weapon: [/B] [URL=http://img241.imageshack.us/img241/8792/902sd7.png]Twin Beretta 92?s[/URL]
[URL=http://img241.imageshack.us/img241/8826/untitledak2.png]Black Katana [/URL]

[B]Years as a Sinister Nation member: [/B] 7

[B]Specialty: [/B] Protection//Retrievals

[B]Personality: [/B] Octavia makes sarcastic remarks so often it?s hard to distinguish when she actually being serious. Most people perceive her to be somewhat bitter and crude when in actual fact this is far from the truth. For the post part she pushes people away, not wishing to become too close to them. She only has a few close friends who understand her personality. Octavia is passionate about her job and despite how she may appear sometimes she is fiercely loyal to those around her. She tends to follow the rules but loves the kick she gets out of breaking them; Octavia has a tendency to get herself into trouble, usually because people misinterpret what she says.

Octavia has a deep need to protect life, she doesn?t like killing and will refrain from doing so unless she sees no other option. In battle she will prefer to use techniques that incapacitate rather than harm. Octavia enjoys seeing peoples reactions to her comments, but sometimes she can push it a bit to far.

[B]Background:[/B]
Octavia has never known the meaning of family; she was orphaned at the age of 2 and doesn?t remember a thing about her parents. She spent most of her adolescent years at the orphanage, she watched for years and years as children came and went, each time she was over looked. No family ever came and chose her to be their daughter. Every time she made a friend they would be removed from her life shortly after, a young husband and wife who could not have cihildren of their own would always choose someone she knew. Octavia always suspected the nurse in charge of the orphanage told couples not to choose her for some reason, she couldn?t see why, was she somehow not good enough?

It was because of this constant flow of people moving in and out of her life that she taught herself not to become too attached to anything, especially people, in her eyes they would inevitably be erased from her life, so what was the point? Octavia?s life in the orphanage wasn?t particularly a happy one, older children would always pick on her for some reason or another, she never understood why. Eventually the teasing got worse and the other children would beat her, the nurse in charge simply turned a blind eye to all that went on. Even the younger children had it in for her it seemed.

At the age of 15 she had finally had enough of always playing defence, this time she would fight back and they would never ever bother her again. Sure enough the same children came up to Octavia to deal their almost ritualistic beatings. Octavia acted hurt to begin with and then sprung her surprise on the 5 children, she beat them with her fists and legs, letting fly with powerful kicks. She had been training for a while, in secret and unleashed all of her rage upon them. Her rage over never being picked, her constantly disappearing friends, the nurse who never seemed to give a dam, her parents for abandoning her, god for forgetting her and these children for making her life almost unbearable. In an instant the rage was gone ad the children lay unconscious around her.

After the incident Octavia was isolated from the other children, none of them ever spoke to her again, the new children would be warned by the others to stay away. The nurse didn?t report her to the police, in fact she didn?t say a word, and the five children were all chosen by families soon after the incident. Alone she continued to train; her room overlooked a hall that was used 3 nights a week for Thai style kickboxing, she copied their techniques, leaning quickly. Eventually Octavia was the oldest child at the orphanage, at the age of 18 she was told she could leave, or stay and take a job there, she chose the first option and left. Leaving may have proven to be the wrong choice for her.

At the age of 19 Octavia was asked to join a gang in association with Methais Corbin, she accepted with a smile on her face, she had caught the gang?s interest when she saved a few of their members from police. This completely random occurrence would change the course of her life forever. Her skills with kickboxing quickly became known among the members and she was taught to use all kinds of different weapons, her heart choosing to specialise in using a Katana. Octavia found that killing didn?t come all that naturally to her, instead she focused more on protecting individuals or groups and retrieving items or people.

One night, at the age of 19 Octavia was asked to carry out an assassination; her targets were two individuals, one male and one female. Of course she strongly objected, she wanted to use her skills to save life and not to take it away unless absolutely necessary, unfortunately she had no way out. She went to carry out what she had been ordered to do, across the other side of town she waited in the shadows until her targets appeared, the couple looked middle aged, obviously husband and wife it seemed. Waiting, she checked for any sign of third party movement, there was none and so she struck. The woman and man were dead within moments, quickly fleeing the scene; it was during her journey back home that she was approached by a strange man.

He told her, her parents were dead, he was unable to save them and we was sorry, he asked her to join his agency and she accepted, he had been watching her for some time, his name was Nicholas Fargo. Seven years later she hasn?t changed and Nicholas is dead, he was like a brother to her, every day she vows to find his killers and her parents no matter the cost.


[/SIZE] [/INDENT][/COLOR]

[Delta]

[COLOR=#35425E][b]Nickname:[/b] Red

[b]Name:[/b] Irina Berzin

[b]Age:[/b] 26

[b]Appearance:[/b] [url=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v487/meoi/a23ba944.jpg]Irina[/url]

[b]Weapon:[/b][indent]Standard to Ms. Berzin is the Colt SAA/Peacemaker customized by Kenji Arms shop into a DA revolver with a swing-out cylinder. Loaded with just 6 live bullets at any given time, it is a testament to Irina's confidence in her excellent marksmanship.

For close-quarters combat, she relies on her bare hands and knowledge of a variety of cheap but effective street-fighting techniques.[/indent]
[b]Years as a Sinister Nation member:[/b] 2

[b]Primary Specialty:[/b] Reconnaissance

[b]Secondary Specialty:[/b] Protection

[b]Personality:[/b][indent]Irina seems amiable and approachable at first glance. She is, but it's second nature to hold suspicions about almost everyone outside Sinister Nation. She hides her intents rather well, making it hard to tell if she really is as friendly as she looks.

The only thing constant through the facades she puts up is her absolute regard for rules. Red has a good sense of organizational hierarchy and regards her superiors with great respect.[/indent]
[b]Background:[/b][indent]Irina was hired as replacement to Hayter, the first field reconnaissance specialist of Sinister Nation.

A former member of TPD?s Intelligence Division, she followed Fargo's trail for 3 years prior to her assimilation into SN and was fascinated with the organization's inner workings. She became more critical of TPD's inefficiency and, even after being taken off the SN investigation board, continued to pursue marks of the organization with undiminished zeal. Sinister Nation only found out about her activities after helping Hayter escape from TPD Central's detention facility.

Irina sustained gunshot wounds to her right arm and shoulder, and Hayter lost of control of his lower limbs from tactical interrogation. Due to his incapacities, it was suggested to the reconnaissance specialist that he relinquish his position. Hayter obliged, though not without compromise. Impressed with her ability to elude even the watchful eyes of the reconnaissance specialist, he specifically stated that he will resign only if Irina Berzin will take his place.

To his surprise, she declined, stating that it was too soon after her resignation from TPD to affiliate with the police?s targets and that she will elicit distrust among the members due to her former line of work. This was when Nicholas Fargo stepped in and personally extended an invitation to join Sinister Nation. Seeing that her former target was willing to hire her despite having divulged to TPD a great amount of information about the group, she finally accepted Fargo?s invitation.

As the new reconnaissance specialist, Red overhauled the way the organization conducted its investigations. She fortified the weaknesses she had once exploited as TPD and in a week?s time, erased all leads the police had to the organization.[/indent]


[b]OOC:[/b] Thanks for the heads up, chief. Hope this is alright.[/COLOR]

[Orcus]

[COLOR=Silver][SIZE=1][IMG]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/Reizou/VirgilBanner.jpg[/IMG] [B]Name:[/B] Virgil Berimue [B]Nickname:[/B] Barrel- [I]He is often referred to as Barrel when on a job, or as a term of endearment. Otherwise, he?s most likely to be summoned as Virgil.[/I] [B]Age:[/B] 23 [B]Appearance:[/B] [B]Virgil-[/B] Virgil?s hair, which is a perpetual and natural silvery-blue, only grows out to his shoulders, and he spikes it outwards in back. Always adorning his face are his shades with small emblem shapes on the outer sides of the lens. On his right middle finger is a silver ring with three silver crosses on it, and on his left middle finger, a ring with the symbol of Gabriel engraved in it. Other of Virgil?s note-worthy features would be his tattooed angel wings on his shoulder blades and the massive x-shaped scar etched almost perfectly in the middle of the tattoos. [B]Weapon:[/B] [URL=http://www.berettagallery.com/index.aspx?m=53&did=460][COLOR=Silver][I]92/98 FS [[Berretta Customs ?Lock and Stock?]]-[/COLOR] [/I][/URL] This model, finely crafted, is usually nothing more than a wonderful addition to any gun showcase at a museum. Having stolen one at a relatively young age, Fargo bought two and had them modified, fine-tuned if you will, to work nigh more efficient then the more advanced guns of this day and age. Has a double-row 15 magazine. [URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v628/Reizou/Rapier.jpg][COLOR=Silver][I][[El Cid Sword]]-[/I] [/COLOR][/URL] A rapier handed down by Virgil?s wealthy family throughout the generations, Virgil is the only member of his family to have the blade brought from antiquity and put into actual use. It rests at his side at most times, and when it doesn?t, it?s rarely ever out of his sight. [B]Years as a Sinister Nation member:[/B] 5 [B]Primary Specialty:[/B] Retrievals [B]Secondary Specialty:[/B] Reconnaissance [B]Personality:[/B] Having grown up in a rich and wealthy environment, most would think Virgil to be snobbish, superior. However, he is extremely humble about himself, even though his marksmanship, intelligence and swordsmanship are superior to many other mercenaries. As an aristocrat, he had the best training anyone had to offer, and though his knowledge was truly sharpened through these classes, most of his ability to fight came after the downfall of his family and the many days he spent as a delinquent. His countless days as a thief not only strengthened his self-defense, it also granted him an unparalleled ability to retrieve any object, even people. Virgil can always be found smiling, and his upbringing as made him into the epitome of a gallant young man. He disrespects no one, and has a strong sense of chivalry, manners, and of respect. He will follow every order given to him if given by a superior, though he has extremely difficulty waiting still. His soul is restless. And he equates the stillness to the numerous days spent in his castle of a home, with all of the things he despised. There is one way he keeps himself calm, though. He can often times be found looking up, staring deep into the sky. Often times before a job, along the way, he?ll just sit and stare, lost in his own world until it?s time for him to get called into action. Virgil may be a gentleman, a fighter, a thief, and a scholar; his most defining attribute though is his head strength. Once his minds is set on something, only death will keep him from his goal. This was one of the main reasons Fargo took such an interest into young Virgil, even beaten, bloodied, and bruised, he lost no haste in reaching his objective. [B]Background: [/B] [B]?A son, eh? Well then, I suppose our child will serve some purpose??[/B] That was the motto Exavius Berimue took to the child of his 3rd wife, Genevieve Landgriser. He had long awaited a soon, as any high-powered bureaucrat and greatly feared assassin should, especially one who worked under the feared Murdock Brothers. From an early age, he stripped his son of a true childhood, attempting to shape him into a mindless mercenary who would carry along the family legacy and keep the family at the top. Class after class, a mingle of books, acrobatics, and sparring, that?s all Virgil?s early years saw. During these years he developed - if only briefly, as he truly had no time to himself, or for leisure- a taste for antique rapiers and guns, preferably rifles and handguns. He often practiced with these in his sparring or aim honing classes, but never long enough to quench his thirst for those weapons. He accepted this terrible burden, but despised it dearly, lashing out in rage every evening against the walls of his room. Finally one night, in his blind rage, he broke open the window in his bedroom, and upon further investigation, he discovered a way down to the streets below. Straying far from his house for hours it took him no time at all to reach the slums, where he believed he could unleash his anger on the ruffians and riff-raff of society. He however, was terribly misinformed. Having only been taught the chivalrous side of combat, he was easily bested by the down and dirty tactics of a street brawl. He hadn?t expected the knee to the stomach, or the knife that was pulled on him. Luckily for him, his training had enabled him to adapt quickly, and a spare pipe was all he needed to cave in the skull of his opponent. Wobbling home, bleeding and bruised, he warily climbed up the wall to his bedroom, and after treating his wound, passed out. And unbeknownst to him off in the distance, a man watched in extreme interest. This became a daily ritual for Virgil. During the day he took his formal training, choked down all the responsibilities his father lay upon his shoulder, and then by night, he took to the streets, soon earning himself quite a rep, admission into powerful street gang, and the nickname ?Barrel?, to distinguish that side of himself from his nobility. He was honored as a warrior, but was truly worshiped for his ability to get anything. He would often steal the most prized and heavily guarded of possessions from his own house, and though impressive, soon aroused suspicion. How could they know if he had not merely asked his father to bring them to him? Petty thievery was nothing, any of the members could do that, and it proved nothing. However, after many months of searching for a grand opportunity- which would usually involve spying on his father, who only caught him the first three times- he finally overheard his father telling one of his associates that he would be holding a grand display in his museum of antiquities. Virgil rushed off to plan the theft, missing the most vital part of his father?s conversation. The antiques were coming from a rival faction, after his father attacked their base and stole them. They were known as Sinister Nation. When the display went open, Virgil, or rather, Barrel, proved his worth without a hitch. The most prized hand-gun his father owned, surrounded by cameras with machine guns and a laser wire system, did nothing to stop the young man, now of the age 17. But when Barrel came to show his ?brothers? of his retrieval, things went to hell. The rival faction, taking this as the perfect opportunity to take back their loot, unleashed a barrage of fire on the museum and all the people inside. Exavius had been expecting that, and his men were quickly in action, taking out their opponents like flies. Virgil watched on in horror as him crew members fled. They tried to get him to come along, but he was frozen to the spot. Not with fear, but with a newfound fire. Before he knew what he was doing, and dodge-rolled behind a nearby car and grabbed the gun from the dead carcass next to him. But at that point, he was faced with a dilemma. Who did he fight for? His corrupt father, who, none-the-less, was family, or these men, who were truly the victims here. Before he could make any move, a voice came from beside him. [B]?You?re a noble man. Your father?s not. What were you taught to do to the ignoble??[/B] Virgil looked to the source of the voice, almost sure he had seen this figure multiple times, but his thoughts and his glance were brief as the words had quickly been taken to heart. He sprung up and fired at his father?s men. The voice, better known as Nicholas Fargo of Sinister Nation, smiled approvingly. The battle was done in no time, with few losses for the Sinister Nation. Fargo introduced himself to Virgil, and offered to take him in and train him, but differently from the life of near slavery Exavius had him under. Virgil agreed, not exactly sure why, but sure that it was the right choice. Fargo led Virgil into the museum, where his father lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood, not quite dead. His father stared at him with cold eyes. [B]?I should have known you?d be worthless, Virgil.?[/B] Virgil raised his handgun to his father?s face and smirked at the man. He pointed to himself with his left thumb and laughed. [B]?Father, as of right now, you face Barrel, not Virgil. And quite frankly, he doesn?t give a damned thought about what you think. So, goodbye.?[/B] And with that, Virgil shattered the ties to his past and pledged his allegiance to Sinister Nation. A year later, he was an official member. He?s gotten along with the other members excellently, save Alex, who reminds him of the ruffians he encountered on the streets. He?s faithfully followed Fargo every day since then, and was extremely devastated by the loss of his leader. Virgil swears to exact revenge on the murderers, and make them pay dearly. Despite his sorrow, he still performs at top performance, in the name of his father figure, and in respect of his new leader, Elliot, whom holds in high esteem. Though Sinister Nation was made great by Fargo?s hands, Elliot was always right there with him, strengthening the family. Virgil has complete loyalty and faith in his new leader.[/SIZE][/COLOR]

[CENTER][SIZE=1][B]OOC:[/B] PM if changes are needed.[/SIZE][/CENTER]

[TheResplendent]

[font=tahoma]Wow, you guys are awesome =). I never expected this kind of outcome, but am glad you all found it to be interesting.

Sign up are now officially [b][i][u]CLOSED[/i][/u][/b]: Acceptances look like:

-[b]Kitty[/b] as [b]Eva Ijizaru aka Sheath[/b]
-[b]MoyakuKeramushe[/b] as [b]Kenso Loryn aka Ace[/b]
-[b]Shadowofdeath13[/b] as [b]Jack Arista aka Ghost[/b]
-[b]Acheron[/b] as [b]Darrel Hinton aka Lysander[/b]
-[b]Sakura[/b] as [b]Clara Gascoyne aka Clyne[/b]
-[b]Doublehex[/b] as [b]Alexander Daimonas aka Alex[/b]
-[b]Delta[/b] as [b]Irina Berzin aka Red[/b]
-[b]Omega[/b] as [b]Virgil Berimue aka Barrel[/b]
-[b]Eclipse[/b] as [b]Octavia Logan aka Logan[/b]

The thread will be up in the Square momentarily, since i have the time at the moment.[/font]

[Pumpkin]

Nickname: Age: Anywhere between 20-30 Appearance: Picture preferable, detailed description is a-okay as well Weapon: One firearm (pairs of the same kind of gun is allowed) and one melee weapon (includes blades, knuckles, nightstick, etc). nothing too extravagant, like a bazooka or a giant halberd Years as a Sinister Nation member: How long have you been with the company? No more than 10 years. Specialty: Choose a primary and secondary specialty out of Retrievals / Reconnaissance / Assassinations / Protection / Wheel man ? (note if you are a wheel man it includes knowledge of multiple kinds of vehicles) Personality: Pretty self-explanatory, make em interesting Background: What happened before you became a member, what lead up to you becoming a member. Who do you know, who did you used to know, did you work for anybody before, where did you come from, past experiences, etc. [/indent][/LEFT]

:: OOC :: Sorry this is taking so long[/SIZE][/color]

[Raiha]

[FONT=Times New Roman][COLOR=DarkOrchid]Name: Lace Montgomery

Nickname: Sabine

Age: 20

Appearance: As you can see, she has the complete stripper's build, perfect curves, and a penchant for extremely revealing clothing. This however is less of a liability and more of an enhancement to her job[s].

Weapon: Walther PPK; Stilletos

Years as a Sinister Nation member: N/A

Specialty: N/A

Personality: Sabine is generally affable and obliging, especially when at the club, where it's standard policy and useful for adding to her salary. When she's alone, she's usually calm, not given to fits of violence or irritation, preferring to read a book or watch the news. When she's doing a job for her employers however, she's cold and calculating while planning, but friendly and perhaps even romantically involved with her target right up until the end.

Background: A graduate from a State University, Sabine danced through her college years to handle her tuition, and once she graduated, found work that fit in nicely with her earlier job. Her employers call her only on certain nights, which are coneniently not nights in which the club asks her to come in. She's been trained with a variety of firearms, and is especially profficient with her usual Walther PPK and SKS rifle. Of course, given the nature of her work, the Walther is far easier to conceal, and she preferrs to get close to her "clients." The better to blow their brains out across the floor.

As a stripper, she has quite a history, and quite a following. Her routines on the pole are quite the talking point, and are responsible for getting her close to her mentor. One evening, she was doing a particularly intimate lapdance for a rather wealthy client, when she realized that not only was he armed, but he had come to perform a hit in the relative privacy of a back room. Not only did he murder one of the men in the same room, but threatened to kill Sabine and her coworker. Turning her usual talents to coercion and persuasion, Sabine convinced the man to let her and her friend go, and swore the pair of them to silence. Strangely enough, the man came back on some nights, watching Sabine dance on stage, then paying for a private dance afterwards.

Eventually, as she got to know him better, she realized that while he might've been a cold blooded killer, he was a very good assassin. She was taught just about everything a professional assassin needs to know, including how to get close to a target before whipping out a weapon and finishing the job. The man she learned from is also responsible for her meeting her current employers, who are always happy to have someone new to hire for a particularly unpleasant job. Sabine has naturally become very good at what she does, becoming jaded enough to eventually kill her own mentor. But that's the way it goes, when you're on top. [/COLOR][/FONT]

[TheResplendent]

[font=tahoma][b]Neuvoxraiha[/b] the sign up looks good, you can make your first post whenever. [b]Pumpkin[/b] looking forward to the finished product =). Thanks both for your interest.[/font]