(no subject)
PLAYER
✧ NAME: Hatter
✧ LJ USERNAME: N/A
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): AIM: ImNotMrPink
✧ CURRENT CHARACTERS PLAYED AT PROMENADE: None
CHARACTER
✧ NAME: Wesley Gibson
✧ SERIES: Wanted
✧ HISTORY: Wiki
✧ TIMELINE: Post Canon
✧ PERSONALITY: Wesley post-film is drastically different than he is in the beginning or even the middle; having learned of the truth of his father only after having mortally wounding him. Wesley is aggressive, almost viciously so, having taken shit from people for so long he no longer has much tolerance for it. He's brash, not just in what he does, but how he talks. His vocabulary developing dozens of extra expletives and vulgarities in comparison to his quiet and kind demeanor before. All this new-found confidence having lead him to sleeping with Fox and being more sexually secure and aggressive than before. All of this doesn't mean Wesley is completely a killer and lacks anything else; he can have affectionate feelings and care for people, though due to the last time he's given into such urges it's exceptionally difficult for him to trust someone enough to do so. This also contributes to small bouts of paranoia on his part, having turned against a dangerous organization like the Fraternity, Wesley doesn't know if there were other branches or even other assassins he had missed in his raid and knows he could be a potential target at any moment.
Wesley favors being sarcastic rather than genuine with people, even those he cares about, because it makes him uncomfortable for the most part. He knows getting close to people could put them in danger, because he is a killer and will always be a killer. Knows he enjoys killing and the perks that comes with it, that he's taken dozens and dozens of lives and a man like that cannot possibly be able to care for people in the way they might need. He keeps most everyone at a distance, saving them from any harm that might come from himself or others. On that same token, Wesley has no qualms with killing to protect the people he cares about without their knowledge. He knows most people aren't as comfortable with it as he is, and keeps it to himself. He's not ashamed of what he does, but he also knows better than to take the risk.
The Killer does have a lighter side, able to smile and laugh like the rest, because what's the point in all that money and freedom if one doesn't enjoy it? After having got his revenge he had to travel quite a bit to keep himself safe and is quite used to making himself comfortable in new places. He can come across charming, if need be, but more often than not people find him rough around the edges.
✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Wesley is basically genetically superior to the average human; a rush of adrenaline and a super capable body allows him to move faster and push himself harder than even the assassins of his own guild. The son of two highly skilled and genetically superior assassins Wesley was considered an mark against the code, but because Cross saved him, he was able to grow up to be the best. Not just a killer but The Killer. He also seems to heal faster with the assistance of The Fraternity's healing baths. He's trained with many different kinds of weaponry but he favors guns.
✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: Night
✧ MASK DESIGN: The Killer Mask
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: Cross' apartment
SAMPLES
✧ FIRST PERSON: Sample A, Sample B
✧ THIRD PERSON:
Wesley had hardly been good company for some time now-- killing zombies didn't have the same appeal as humans; too dumb, unorganized, but on the other hand far more unpredictable in their movements. The ones that lumbered were easiest to take out, no real problem with their predictable shuffling and were far easier to distract-- the ones that run however posed a greater threat. Hungrier and faster, or so it seemed. And the fucking turned animals-- creeping around in silent movements, a direct contrast to the thudding steps of the undead humans. It left Wesley shooting most everything that moved-- and he almost did again, however there were words there-- fuckin' words.
It's been so damn long since he's heard someone else's voice.
Blood eased down his forehead, tickling his left eye and pooling at his chin from his last run-in. Not a bite, thankfully, more so him jerking backwards and clipping his head on a post-- ugly, but obviously a cut. His silver barreled Heckler & Koch USP Compact hanging from his left hand while his right wrapped around his gut. Limping form what he can only assume is a broken rib or two, but fuckin' alive.
Of course he's wondering just what sort of head wound he's got when the person he spots looks really damn familiar, "Oh, what the fuck?"
He furrows his brows a little bit, mostly because the other didn't seem as surprised as he was. Though after some sort of fucking flesh-eating plague takes over most of the earth he supposes most other things aren't as much of a surprise. His breath in a short huff as blues peer at him and then that fucking-- what the actually fuck? "Is that dog infected?" He hissed, because it's probably the least sane thing he's heard of in his travels; keeping one of those things is basically asking to be bitten at some point. He could understand the desire for companionship-- he had felt it himself after the past few months, but the infected were hardly worth the risk. Wesley kept his guns close, instead.
He can feel his muscle start to ache because he's been walking too damn long. He sucks in a short breath, taking a moment to survey the surroundings before peering at the man and his infected dog, "Is there any place with canned goods around here?" He hadn't wanted to risk anything that could become contaminated or the city water supply; he was a killer not a scientist, he wasn't sure how it started but he knew he sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Turning he started toward one of the buildings, casting a glance over his shoulder he adds on, "I'm Wesley."
✧ NAME: Hatter
✧ LJ USERNAME: N/A
✧ CONTACT (EMAIL, AIM, MSN, PLURK, ETC.): AIM: ImNotMrPink
✧ CURRENT CHARACTERS PLAYED AT PROMENADE: None
CHARACTER
✧ NAME: Wesley Gibson
✧ SERIES: Wanted
✧ HISTORY: Wiki
✧ TIMELINE: Post Canon
✧ PERSONALITY: Wesley post-film is drastically different than he is in the beginning or even the middle; having learned of the truth of his father only after having mortally wounding him. Wesley is aggressive, almost viciously so, having taken shit from people for so long he no longer has much tolerance for it. He's brash, not just in what he does, but how he talks. His vocabulary developing dozens of extra expletives and vulgarities in comparison to his quiet and kind demeanor before. All this new-found confidence having lead him to sleeping with Fox and being more sexually secure and aggressive than before. All of this doesn't mean Wesley is completely a killer and lacks anything else; he can have affectionate feelings and care for people, though due to the last time he's given into such urges it's exceptionally difficult for him to trust someone enough to do so. This also contributes to small bouts of paranoia on his part, having turned against a dangerous organization like the Fraternity, Wesley doesn't know if there were other branches or even other assassins he had missed in his raid and knows he could be a potential target at any moment.
Wesley favors being sarcastic rather than genuine with people, even those he cares about, because it makes him uncomfortable for the most part. He knows getting close to people could put them in danger, because he is a killer and will always be a killer. Knows he enjoys killing and the perks that comes with it, that he's taken dozens and dozens of lives and a man like that cannot possibly be able to care for people in the way they might need. He keeps most everyone at a distance, saving them from any harm that might come from himself or others. On that same token, Wesley has no qualms with killing to protect the people he cares about without their knowledge. He knows most people aren't as comfortable with it as he is, and keeps it to himself. He's not ashamed of what he does, but he also knows better than to take the risk.
The Killer does have a lighter side, able to smile and laugh like the rest, because what's the point in all that money and freedom if one doesn't enjoy it? After having got his revenge he had to travel quite a bit to keep himself safe and is quite used to making himself comfortable in new places. He can come across charming, if need be, but more often than not people find him rough around the edges.
✧ ABILITIES/POWERS: Wesley is basically genetically superior to the average human; a rush of adrenaline and a super capable body allows him to move faster and push himself harder than even the assassins of his own guild. The son of two highly skilled and genetically superior assassins Wesley was considered an mark against the code, but because Cross saved him, he was able to grow up to be the best. Not just a killer but The Killer. He also seems to heal faster with the assistance of The Fraternity's healing baths. He's trained with many different kinds of weaponry but he favors guns.
✧ TIME OF ARRIVAL: Night
✧ MASK DESIGN: The Killer Mask
✧ PLACE OF SOLACE: Cross' apartment
SAMPLES
✧ FIRST PERSON: Sample A, Sample B
✧ THIRD PERSON:
Wesley had hardly been good company for some time now-- killing zombies didn't have the same appeal as humans; too dumb, unorganized, but on the other hand far more unpredictable in their movements. The ones that lumbered were easiest to take out, no real problem with their predictable shuffling and were far easier to distract-- the ones that run however posed a greater threat. Hungrier and faster, or so it seemed. And the fucking turned animals-- creeping around in silent movements, a direct contrast to the thudding steps of the undead humans. It left Wesley shooting most everything that moved-- and he almost did again, however there were words there-- fuckin' words.
It's been so damn long since he's heard someone else's voice.
Blood eased down his forehead, tickling his left eye and pooling at his chin from his last run-in. Not a bite, thankfully, more so him jerking backwards and clipping his head on a post-- ugly, but obviously a cut. His silver barreled Heckler & Koch USP Compact hanging from his left hand while his right wrapped around his gut. Limping form what he can only assume is a broken rib or two, but fuckin' alive.
Of course he's wondering just what sort of head wound he's got when the person he spots looks really damn familiar, "Oh, what the fuck?"
He furrows his brows a little bit, mostly because the other didn't seem as surprised as he was. Though after some sort of fucking flesh-eating plague takes over most of the earth he supposes most other things aren't as much of a surprise. His breath in a short huff as blues peer at him and then that fucking-- what the actually fuck? "Is that dog infected?" He hissed, because it's probably the least sane thing he's heard of in his travels; keeping one of those things is basically asking to be bitten at some point. He could understand the desire for companionship-- he had felt it himself after the past few months, but the infected were hardly worth the risk. Wesley kept his guns close, instead.
He can feel his muscle start to ache because he's been walking too damn long. He sucks in a short breath, taking a moment to survey the surroundings before peering at the man and his infected dog, "Is there any place with canned goods around here?" He hadn't wanted to risk anything that could become contaminated or the city water supply; he was a killer not a scientist, he wasn't sure how it started but he knew he sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Turning he started toward one of the buildings, casting a glance over his shoulder he adds on, "I'm Wesley."