|
|
Sept 2, 2018 22:50:06 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Sept 2, 2018 22:50:06 GMT
 tagged - ### - info info info | Benny's mind was going a million miles an hour. There were charred body parts littering the street and flames as high as the eye could see. Benny had seen his fair share of blood but nothing worse than broken bones and busted knee caps. Garbozi was small time in the grander scheme of things. He didn't have people killed. Besides it was bad for business. Dead people can't pay protection. And it's hard to spend money when you're locked up for conspiracy to commit murder.
"What?" Benny's voice was distant, distracted. What the fuck had he just walked into. His heart was pounding against the walls of his chest and his fingers gripped the wheel tightly. White knuckle anxiety throbbed in his hands. He was vaguely aware that blondy was talking. He was far too busy trying to piece together what happened. Couldn't have been anyone they pissed off. Garbozi had his enemies but as far as the law was concerned he was a pillar of the community. This shit was about to make waves.
His mind kept going back to the text on his phone. This obviously was the work of that psychotic little skirt with the bright blue eyes and the deadly smile. Lulu Milton. It wasn't a name he had ever heard before, but when you're a small time fish in a small time pound you don't often get to know the name of the thing that will turn you to dinner. Benny brushed his hair back as he ripped around a corner. Tires squealed and break lights sped through the dark. Suddenly a stupid suggestion sounded off. "You don't call the police on people like that. People like that have friends in high places doll. Best we do what we're told and lay low."
Another text came through his phone. The bright blue screen illuminated his pale face to let him know that he had one hour to get his job done or there were going to be consequences. They left only enough rope to hang yourself when you're a recruit. Lulu didn't honestly give a shit about Benny or his problems. If he pissed her off he could easily end up as the 'Garbozi special. "I'm sorry I got you into this shit." He mumbled. Benny looked in the rearview mirror. He couldn't tell if it was just his paranoia but he thought he might have been followed. It wasn't his paranoia. There was a tail on him to make sure he got his task done. This was quite simply a test.
Benny turned sharply around another corner and drove in the direction of a parking garage. Not one he had ever been too, but he was familiar with the neighborhood. He allowed his mind to wander. Frantically he thought about what came next. The bright glowing green time on his wrist seemed like a lie. It was more time than he deserved and any second he felt like it could be taken away from him, and he would 'clock out.'
Megan's voice was soft, almost sad. It was enough to get his attention. Benny pulled over in front of the garage and sat there. "Yeah, I knew'em." Benny agreed. His voice was soft too. Defeated actually. "But they weren't my friends. Just associates." Benny was lying. He didn't like anyone to see the hurt in his eyes. Especially some dame he barely knew. There was something inherantly wrong about weakness too him. A weak man is a worthless asshole. A quote from his father. Buster was lying about not being close with Mr. Garbozi. Honestly, he took Benny off the street. Gave him a job. Made something off him. Benny looked up to him as a friend and a surrogate father. There was quiet rage bubbling behind that vacant expression. "Let's get this shit done so we can go home." Benny said stepping out of the car.
The cool breeze blew his hair around as he stepped out. It was cold. Before he closed the car door he reached in the back seat and grabbed an old faded jean jacket. He put it on Megan's shoulders as she got out of the car. "Come on kid. This will be quick." He said.
Benny rubbed her shoulder a bit to warm her and sighed before walking ahead of her. It was a tiny thing, a moment he didn't give a second thought too, but that compassion and honesty in that moment probably meant more to Megan than he realized. Benny was in shock. He was swirling around in a sea of fuck, and his mind was in too many places at once. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream and punch something firm and unflinching until his knuckles bled. He wanted to go back to yesterday. |
|
|
|
|
Sept 1, 2018 18:59:48 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Sept 1, 2018 18:59:48 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | The drive was quite mostly. Benny fiddled with the radio a bit, but there was nothing on worth a damn. Some band named The Artic Monkeys was on one station, he only had to listen to them for a few moments to decide that they were crap. Benny listened to golden oldies mostly. Do-wop hits from the 30's and 40's It was the only kind of music he vibed with. With a sigh he turned off the radio and cast a glance to the passenger seat.
His passenger, a slender blond with powder blue eyes and a Que-Pi doll baby face that could make a block of concrete melt. Benny ran his fingers through his hair as his arm rested on the edge of the open window. The wind whipped at his shirt sleeve. The silence was killing him. She hadn't said much of shit since they got in the car. She was a stranger, that was true but Benny just didn't tolerate shy girls very well. "What you don't talk or nothing?" He snapped rudely. There was a toothpick sitting on his lip. Benny swirled it around to the other side of his mouth and checked his rearview. There were a pair of headlights that had been following him since he left his apartment.
He decided to ignore it for now, but he kept his eye on it. His hand was resting on the gearshift. Shifting into the next gear his eyes split time from being on the road and being on the ridged stiff form of the slender blonde in the passenger seat. He had intervined on her behalf last night. He supposed that entitled him to a little fucking gratitude. Maybe a lot less ackward silence. "What was a girl like you doing in sector 1 anyhows? You slumming it just for fun? That's real stupid babydoll.
If I hadn't stepped in some rando asshole would have been wearing you like a hat last night." Benny wasn't expecting a thank you. Not really. Though it did annoy him that she seemed just as stiff and uncomfortable around him as she would have her assailant last night. He wasn't the badguy here. Okay, sure, he was a BAD GUY. But not to dames. Never to dames. He was the one night stand fantasy that every girl dreamed about. That handsome bad boy that you use to get back at your parents, or indulge in a little thrill. What annoyed him most was that she wasn't all over him like most women. It was a poke at his ego, and he subconsiously slicked his hair back over and over with one hand.
"Well, Capitol Princess....Let me make this one stop and clear this shit up and I'll have you back in your ivory tower in no time at all. I just gotta.....The fuck?" Benny stopped talking and the car slowed to a stop. Orange flames danced in the reflection on his windshield as he pulled up to Mr. Gabrozi's house. His private fucking house was in flames and the smell of burnt flesh stung at his nose as he stepped out of the car. Benny covered his nose with his arm and breathed into the crease in his elbow just to keep from inhaling smoke. "Stay in the fucking car!" He demanded when he saw Megan move to open the door.
Benny hurried back into the car in a frantic way. He fumbled for his phone and saw there was a new text. He was going to call Michael and find out just what the hell was going on.... There was a text from an unknown number on his phone saying that His 'former employer' just went out of business. Benny stared at the flames a few moments longer before tossing his phone in the cup holder and peeling out of there. Tires squealed and white smoke ripped out from behind the back tire as he turned the car around and roared down the street. "WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?"
|
|
|
|
|
Aug 25, 2018 16:31:33 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 25, 2018 16:31:33 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | Benny looked up from his Lo Mein at her matter of factly statement. A single eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to decide if she was serious. Boscoe even looked up from his bowl. Just having slurped down a good deal of beer and enjoying his modest doggy buzz. Boscoe licked his chops and stared at Megan as if to say 'Really motherfucker?' "Riiiiiight...." Buster said putting the Lo Mein on the counter.
"Not imposing, if i asked you to stay." Buster shot right back with a matter of factly tone of his own. There was a smirk dancing on his lips, there usually was. Buster was all ego and sass and he didn't mind being a smartass even to a perfect stranger. Buster's way was the right way of doing things, there was just no way of getting around it. He had found that when he lived by that rule and philosophy then things generally turned out okay for him.
Buster laughed at her next question. If they had had sex last night. "No. You would have remembered." He said confidently. "You came home from the club with melast night in Sector 1. Instead of taking advantage of a clearly drunk, and out of her mind young woman i let you sleep it off on the couch. I don't nail drunkies. No challenge in it. Anyways, you were pretty fucking smashed last night. Figured you could use a safe place to lay your head. What's a rich girl like you doing slumming in sector 1. You trying to get raped and murdered and have your time lifted?" Now there was a slight judgy tone coming from Benny, though he chuckled and shook his head as if he couldn't believe the size of her balls despite the fact.
The phone went off and Benny turned to it. He had almost forgotten about it. Last night wasn't just a blur for Megan, but him as well. He spent the better part of the night whispering sweet nothings to a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. Alcohol has the curios effect of making you not remember much of shit. Benny looked at the text and sighed. He remembered that much at least.
Being bought outright like he was a fucking sofa at IKEA. He had to see Mr. Gabazi. This Lulu chick gave him a few hours to play with. And though Benny didn't mind the work of stealing cars, it was one of his regular gigs.....He had to clear this up with Mikey. Benny wasn't wearing his prospects jacket. Not at the mement anyways. He was just in jeans an a t-shirt. As the pizza came in Benny grabbed himself a slice from the box and grabbed his older jacket off the hook. It was brown leather and tightly fitting. No Fools logo, no fallen angels logos just brown leather. Benny was holding onto a piece of himself for a moment longer before he fully dove into the club life.
She told him her name as he was slipping his jacket on. Benny nodded at this new information. A slice of pizza crust between his teeth. Taking the pizza out of his mouth he nodded again. "Well, Megan. I see it like this...You got two choices. You can come with me and i can get you back to the capitol when i finish running a few errands, or....You can trust the ubers in this city and hope they won't just murder you for your time instead of driving you home. Either way.....I'm Leaving so if you're coming grab your shit lets hop too it. I gotta go see my boss." He said referring not to Lulu, but Mr. Garbozi. |
|
|
|
|
Aug 23, 2018 15:21:16 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 23, 2018 15:21:16 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | The rattle of the beer bottles in the fridge woke him. Not the soft call of her voice, or the timid presence of her standing over him, but the sound of the bottles rattling in the fridge door. Buster allowed a snore to rip through him as he jerked awake and looked around; dazed, confused. Pushing down the recliner he turned off the tv and dropped the remote on the coffee table.
He fell asleep in his clothes. Tight black jeans and a black short sleeve t-shirt where the sleeves were rolled up halfway up his shoulder. He usually kept a pack of cigarettes tucked in the rolled up sleeve. Sometimes he kept a cigarette tucked behind one of his ears. Even when he slept his hair was slicked back and tidy.... Buster ran a tired hand through his hair just to make sure. A yawn errupted from him as he staggered around the coffee table.
He had forgotten about the little blond last night. He spent half the night getting drunk and piledriving himself into a nice heavy coma. Buster's bare feet shuffled along the carpet until he found himself in the kitchen. "Hey..." Buster mumbled as he moved past her. The idea of finding a strange attractive woman in his kitchen he didn't honestly recognize; didn't seem to be a new concept for him. Buster walked past her abruptly and opened the fridge. He grabbed the old Chinese food takeout and took it into his hands. It still had two chop sticks sticking out of the box. Buster leaned back against a counter as he began chop sticking his breakfast into his mouth. It was at least 3 days old, but it was food. It was fuel.
"How'd you sleep?" Buster asked with a mouthful of food. There was sloppy lip smacking sounds coming from the doorway. Buster looked to see Boscoe standing in the door almost looking like he wanted to yawn too. There was leftover meatloaf on a dirty plate in the sink. It looked like he had thrown away half the meatloaf by just tossing the plate in the sink and forgetting about it. Buster grabbed the plate and flicked his wrist. He plopped the meatloaf in Boscoe's dog bowl and picked up a half drunken bottle of beer and poured it in his waterbowl. He'd get him some actual water later but Boscoe had a morning drink with him most mornings, Buster hated drinking alone.
"Look you're welcome to crash here a few days, until you figure out what you're doing..." Buster didn't know this girl. He didn't know she came from a fancy Capitol life. All he knew was that she was in trouble last night and he saved her. If he could dance around her feelings and keep this strictly superfictial then fucking great.
Buster opened the fridge and got himself a beer and even handed one to Megan. Boscoe slurped up his beer as Buster unscrewed the cap and tossed it on the table. "I'm Benny by the way." He didn't give her his other name....Buster. He didn't know if she had heard tell of his reputation, but if she had by chance he didn't want to scare her. He sipped his beer and for the first time actually noticed how expensive her clothes looked. Buster paused before his next sip. "You from sector 2? You don't look like you're from around these streets mama." He noted with a smirk. |
|
|
|
|
Aug 22, 2018 19:44:52 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 22, 2018 19:44:52 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | Buster stood there unimpressed. There was a subtle roll and tilt of his chin towards the door, as he cracked his neck in frustration. Cartaledge popping loudly in the dead air. Moments seemed to flutter on into hours as everyone stood quietly after his rude outburst. Lulu leaned back in her chair smiling. Buster's eyes were annoyed, narrowed.
He wore the look of someone with not enough time to give a shit about whatever show she was putting on for him right now. The muscle, the strutt. She was hot shit alright. He could smell it on her as she strolled by. Perfume pushing through the air smelling like a million bucks. A fragrenced aftertouch of being there, and that tiny bottle of miracle probably cost more than Buster's rent.
Buster was surprised when she addressed him by name. She knew who he was. It wasn't really shocking to know that the thugs and players in this town knew him by reputation...... Buster rolled his shoulders with a confident shrug. A smirk dwindled it's way on to his face. For a few moments his ego steamrolled him and had him walking in blind to what was about to happen. Buster's smirk faded as she called Mr. Garbazi and basically talked to him like her bitch. His mouth even hung open a little, slack jawed in surprise. Everything he thought he knew about the world of gangs and violence went out the window when he realized he was just a big fish swimming in a small pond.
"I.....Whaaa......But...." Was all he could stammer. Buster was dumbfounded as Lulu tossed him a jacket. He caught it and held the leather fabric between his fingers. New, untouched leather, catching the light and leaving a silver streak across the face of a laughing reaper. Buster stared down at the face, the words stitched into the leather that said "Prospect...." This is how Buster Fleetfoot got tangled up with the fools. This is how Buster came to know this strange and wonderful, sometimes scary woman named Lulu. More importantly, some might even say most importantly; This is how Buster met Megan.
Buster looked up from the jacket in his hands to the feeling of someone clutching his wrist. He watched his short time jump up, days! Weeks! Buster looked at her eyes wide and surprised. Who the fuck was this chick? Surely if she was a pusher or a player, he would have heard about them.... He thought that Mr. Garbozi was a shark swimming in deep waters. Turns out he was a guppy in a pond. Buster didn't know shit and his connections didn't mean much of dick. He was a nobody in this world. Some scrawny beanpole ass kick with slicked back hair and chip on his shoulder.
Buster didn't even have a chance to say antthing before Lulu was waving him off and storming out for a night of fun and freedom. Buster turned and saw he was alone with Megan. The room grew very quiet, very heavy. Buster sighed. Moving to the corner he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and loomed around Lulu's desk. Did she just want him to wait here? In her office? Buster lit up the cigarette and figured he could at least see if she'd come round. Maybe she just bumped her head or something.
Buster tried to tune it out. The fact that he had done something for someone else that wasn't selfishly motivated. He took a puff of his cigarette with a calm and collecied breathe. That was Buster. No matter the stress he was always calm and collected. Like there was something about that deadeye vacant stare that he did. It was like he was figuring you out in his head. Buster glanced over Megan's form. Her body slouched awkwardly on the couch... Half curled up and half hanging off the couch. It didn't look graceful. Her arm was hanging over her head and slightly over the edge of the couch arm. Buster blew out a cloud of smoke.
She was something else to look at! That was for sure. Her soft curves and soft skin. Buster allowed his eyes to wander a moment before they flicked to some other uninteresting shit on the bookshelf in front of him. Buster's eyes were dull and bored as he purused the new bosses reading interests. He was wondering what the fuck he had gotten himself into. He looked down at the jacket for a moment and slipped it on. It sat sloppily on his shoulders. One shoulder poked out a little behind the cover of leather. His hair pushing straight up in the back, Buster bit his lip and rolled his eyes back towards Megan.
Buster moved over to Megan on the couch. She looked like a fucking lightweight to begin with. Maybe she was just a feather who got a little too wet. Buster whistled. "Pst! Hey! You okay sweetheart?" Buster said tapping her cheek lightly trying to get her to wake up. Buster wasn't exactly mannerful or tact. He wasn't the go too guy when it came to sophistication and class. Buster snapped his fingers a few times in her face. "Baby girl, you feeling alright? Where you live honey? Im'a get you home." Buster tried talking to her but she was kind of out of it. "Okkay.... We're just going to take you to my home."
Buster slung her arm over his shoulder and hoisted her to her feet. She was groggy and dazed, but could walk a little.. Buster looked around both ways after peeking his head out of Lulu's office door. The loud club music bounced off the walls and seemed to be punching him in the ears. This music was terrible. "Come on honey, not leaving ya drunk in shitty club surrounded by horny raver douchebags. Upsy daisy!" He said hoisting her arm again so she wouldn't slouch. Buster ubbered a ride out of there and back to his shit apartment a few blocks away.
It wasn't a terrible neighborhood, but he wouldn't recommend his neighbors check their mail at night. Buster pushed the key in the door and opened the door. He was greeted by a cold wet snout. "Get back Boscoe! We got a lady here." There was whines and cries for attention from the dog before he wandered lazily into another room to find something soft to lay down on.
Buster laid Megan gently on the couch. There were magazines upturned on the floor. Pizza boxes and dirty boxers on the floor. A few dvd cases for adult movies sat on the coffee table next to an ashtrayed blunt and a few empty beer bottles. The lights flickered and consisted of a pale greenish flurescent nightmare of a shade. Buster scratched behind his ear. Picking up a beer from the counter Buster brought it too his lips.
Taking a sip He looked at Megan while leaning on the doorframe. He grabbed a shirt from the floor and covered her up. It said "Sitting Pretty." And had a pair of lips on them, covered in lipstick. It was a woman's shirt. Who's Buster wasn't really sure. One of the girls he had over this week. Probably. He didn't have any spare blankets.
Buster sighed feeling guilty he brought his bedroom blanket out to the recliner. He tossed his shit in the chair and carried Megan to his bedroom. He covered her up with the sheet and left the door cracked. Buster headed back out to the living room and passed out in the chair around the 6th beer with ESPN highlights playing in the background. Flooding the room with soft light.. |
|
|
|
|
Aug 20, 2018 21:57:48 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 20, 2018 21:57:48 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | Buster didn't hold any sympathy for handsy assholes who thought it was okay to basically molest some chick outside a club. It didn't fall in line with his code of morals and values. His drunk of a father never taught him shit about how to treat a lady. And if Benny was going by his example he would have used them like cheap whores and beer fetching retrievers, but he wasn't his old man. In fact he lived his life in the exact opposite direction any chance he could.
There was a time when Benny would have killed for the old man's approval. Back in his younger days when he saw his father as something that could still be respected. The drinking and the boozing only got worse over time. The more he got to know the man the less he had come to respect him. Benny had become Buster under the tutiledge of Michael Garbozi.
Refuted gangster and middle of the road chump with ambitions bigger than his tiny grasp could achieve. Still, Buster got his name for how savagely he could beat you down or tear apart your home or business. Ironically every time he was taking a swing at a guy he was actually swining on his father. Buster had a lot of rage buried deep down in his tiny chest. So when he saw some asshole clearly in need of a beatdown he tended to drift too far into the lane of out of control.
Buster was a leg breaker. A stickup man. A matchstick man, Flim flame guy, con man, getaway driver. His resume was very impressive and if you tried you probably couldn't find a bigger piece of shit floating in the cesspool of sector one, but he had loose morals and a code that he wouldn't dishonor. Number one don't mistreat dames. It pissed him off when he saw someone treating a dame with anything less than respect. Benny had lofty ideals about respect and when it should be given and when it should be TAKEN by force. Respect was what glued him together.
Suddenly the srewdriver twisted and went limp. Buster turned his attention to the girl on the floor as he didn't care what happened to the asshole anymore. Buster would rough you up, but it wasn't like he was a killer. He didn't have a body count to his name just anger issues and a reputation for being unreasonable. The man, who's name was Howard; fell to the floor sobbing. Buster didn't pay him any mind as he leaned down over Megan to check on her.
Suddenly some musclehead freak scooped her up. Buster turned to protest but stopped when he saw Lulu. His jaw went slack and he narrowed his eyes to two little slits. His fists clinched as his eyes moved over the expensive furs and diamond jewels hanging off her like elegant trappings. His eyes wandered to her time. He wondered how much free time a woman like this had. His mouth hung open when he saw the whopping number. Even worse still the unconsious girl with the blond locks had just as much. He felt suddenly insecure about his hour 42 minutes he had remaining and subtly covered his wrist.
Ms. Fancy ass fur wanted to talk to him. Buster's expression never changed. It was a soft, vacant stare that seemed to be more so daydreaming about something else than actually listening. He did tune part of what she said out. What she was saying to her body guard.
He did however catch that she wanted a chat. About what? What the fuck could she possibly want from him? Buster watched them disappear into the crowded club. After a few moments he shrugged his shoulders and followed them inside. Moving his way through the crowd he realized eyes were on him. Everyone was still dancing but their eyes lingered in his direction. He was meeting with the Queen of the hive. Buster had no fucking clue who Lulu Milton was. He had only vaguely heard of the fools. That one time that they beat the shit out of one of Gabrozi's 'delievery men'.
Buster moved into the VIP section and looked directly at Lulu. He didn't waste time being polite. "Can I fucking help you with something?" He spat with almost a Brooklyn acent. Having to raise his voice with his irratated tone to be heard over the loud club music. |
|
|
|
|
Aug 19, 2018 16:47:43 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 19, 2018 16:47:43 GMT
tagged - ### - info info info | Buster stood out on the shadowy part of the alley. Looking on from the shadows he watched as people in their saturday best casually walked across the street to club. Buster had a lit cigarette between his lips. His eyes half close, half interested in the goings on around him. This was sector 1. Home of the dirt bags and middle class. IF you lived here and still found the urge to waste your time at the club scene then you were too lonely and desperate for your own good.
Buster shook his head. He wasn't here for champaign drinks and the chance to chase a little skirt. Usually he didn't have to try that hard to find companionship. He didn't have to go that far to find trouble either. This was sector one. Trouble found you no matter where you went. Cops liked to harrass honest hard working criminals like himself on a daily basis. "Fucking idiots."
Buster said shaking his head. They were all dancing and drinking their ways into early graves. Buster checked the time on his wrist. He had two hours to live, but that's how it had always been. Buster liked to think of himself as the king of the gutter rats. It was a self given nickname to describe his status among the other scumbags and assholes that festered in this city. As far as thieves went, he was the best.
Buster never had a lot of time, but he scrapped and salvaged enough time to keep fighting another day. It was kind of scary living this dangerously. If someone were to knock him unconsious right now and he was out for a few hours... He would never wake up because he just didn't have that much time left. There was something cathartic about living on the edge at all times. Not that Buster didn't want to have more time. He did. He just wasn't born with that silver spoon up his ass.
Crossing the street Buster took the cigarette out of his mouth. A cloud of smoke surrounded his head in a shadowy veil of mysterious intention. His boots clicked against the cement as he cross the street, bathed in glowing light of passing cars. Buster didn't even bother to look up. One car honked at him for crossing the street during a green light. Buster flipped him off with a wave of his hand and non of his interest. Buster flicked his cigarette away. It bounced and rolled into the storm drain as he stepped up onto the curb. Just outside the club, there was shadow. A good deal of it. Sector one never fixed the broken street lamps on this street.
A nice burnt out bulb provided him with all the darkness he needed to discretely pull a jimmy out of his jean jacket and strart popping the lock of a car door. Buster wrestled with it a moment before hearing the door pop open. Buster slipped his slender frame inside the sports car when he heard some comotion. Buster turned his head. Eyes half closed and with a mildly interested expression he watched some guy getting shot down by some blonde. He honestly didn't care. A moment later and he would have turned his attention back to the car but it was the way she stumbled that caught his eye. She was obviously drunk, not all there and this perv asshole had his hands running all over her.
Buster watched the struggle a moment longer. He had a screwdriver in his hand. He was about to jam it into the ignition. Now he was thinking about jamming it in this prick's eye socket. Buster slipped out of the car and stood up. Moving over to the scene he was loud, abrupt and didn't even bother to hide the irratation in his voice. "Hey! Asshole. Leave the lady alone." Buster stared at the man blankly, a vacant expression on his face said that he was unimpressed. "Go fuck yourself little man." Buster clicked his tongue along the inside of his mouth. "See.. That sounds like disrespect." Buster stabbed him in the knee with the flathead screwdriver. His lips close to the man's ear. "I hate disrespect."
Buster was a violent little asshole with a point to prove. Being smaller his whole life, and having been to prison (twice) He knew that sometimes you just had to find the biggest toughest guy around and make an example out of him if you wanted people to take you seriously. He had a bit of a repuation around the sector, but he was no criminal mastermind.
People knew him as Buster even though his name was Benny. Buster Fleetfoot. He moonlit as a leg breaker for Michael Garbazi. A low level street thug and wanna be gangster. He was Garbazi's msucle and collector. "And since I'm such a fan of respect. Why don't you apologize to the lady?" Buster asked quietly twisting the screwdriver. "AHHHHH OKAY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!"
|
|
|
|
|
Aug 16, 2018 20:55:59 GMT
Post by Buster Fleetfoot on Aug 16, 2018 20:55:59 GMT
Buster FleetfootQuote goes here.  THE BASICS: Time: 000:002:000 Orientation: Straight Gender: Male occupation: Criminal Appearance: Height: 5'9 Weight: 215 lbs Hair color: Eye color: here Build: Skinny Species: Human OUT OF CHARACTER: ooc name: Kick face claim: Alex Turner | Personality&Power Personality|| Cocky, smooth, Selfish, Looking for redemption
Good Traits|| Loyal, Fearless, Smooth
Bad Traits||Inconsiderate, Thinks the world revolves around him
Dreams||A Timeless moment
Fears|| Becoming his old man
Hybrid Power||
Power Name|| None
Power Strengths|| One Paragraph Minimum
Power Weaknesses||One Paragraph Minimum
History Growing up in a broken home Buster aka 'Benny' grew up with a drunk angry father. A rascist pill popping piece of shit of a human being. Buster still isn't sure how this asshole manages to not work and sit on his ass all day and somehow, waste all his time on booze and hookers and still not be dead. Buster doesn't want to be anything like his father.
Buster is a minor criminal. Pickpocket, car thief.... Honestly Buster spends most of his time on random women that he hopes to impress. He has no life goals or big dreams. He lives in the moment and every moment is lived to the fullest because even though he has his time on his wrist. Any moment could be his last.
|
|
|
