I made this character story because I was bored AF (summercabin with the worst internet). If you wish a subforum for these kinds of IC stuff, go support my suggestion: https://perpheads.com/threads/new-subforum-roleplay-documents.9501/.
Calle Valentino was born in the ghettos of Baltimore, MD. He grew up as a loner. His parents were busy enough growing and taking drugs. Their debt to the local drugdealer was enormous. They were threatened with death every day. There were aggressive and loud arguments all the time. To make the child stop crying, they fed him with drugs. He basically became a drug addict from day one. As he grew up, he engaged in more and more criminal activities. His father gave him his first pistol at the age of 7. He was so fascinated by the weapon and obtained the tools for making bullets from his circle of acquaintances which was very select. He learned the art of manufacturing weaponry and ammunition, and as he grew up, he manufactured various weaponry, teaching himself how to make big weapons such as rifles. He made himself a rule, that for every new gun he learned to manufacture, he'd test it on an armed human target (bear in mind he was mentally unstable due to the drugs he had been taking since his birth). He teamed up with a previous locksmith at the age of 20 and learned how to pick a lock. With time, he became skilled within assault and burglary. One day after Calle came home from a job, the father told him "It is within human nature to have an urge to hurt people. It's instinct. There's nothing wrong following your instinct".
The day after when Calle woke up, he came inside the kitchen only to see two heads detached from their bodies on the table. A letter was right next to the head, written in blood "If you don't want the same destiny, pay your and your parents' debts".
Maybe Calle didn't have a close relationship to his parents like other families, but they were his parents after all. He looked at the letter, then sighed. He went inside his room, opening his drawer. He took on his gloves and assembled a MP5 out of various weapon parts. He then assembled a silenced M9 beretta and put a black balaclava in his pocket. He went to the local dealer and interrogated him through the use of cohersive means. This being, tourturing him till he gave up information about the location of the warehouse where they stashed all their drugs. He did not know the location, but he knew some people that could know. Calle found these people and interrogated them, and it didn't last long till he knew the location of their headquarters.
Calle drove to the headquarters in his father's red mini cooper. He parked behind the warehouse, and as a male approached him, Calle stepped out of the car, shooting the male in the face with his silenced beretta. "Low-life" he grunted. As the lock to the backdoor was unlocked, Calle sprayed with his MP5 through the door. The door opened, almost by itself, and behind it lied a dead body. The alarm went off. "The sound of weakness. These sons of bitches are going to pay". There were a lot of shouts inside the warehouse. He quickly went through the door and saw four people taking the shotguns hanging on the wall. As one of them aimed towards Calle, Calle sprayed down all four of them, hitting the prepared one first. As more and more people came, he took them out one after one. Blood was everywhere. He heard footsteps behind him. He quickly turned around, bashing his butt of his gun against the head of the foe. He smiled as he eliminated his foes in different, disgusting ways. This is who he is. Soon, the warehouse was full of bodies, but empty of life. He found a room where the harvest was stashed. He holstered his MP5 and took two bags of cocaine. He put the bags in the trunk of his mini cooper, and then he went inside again, setting the stash on fire with a molotov cocktail. He drove away in his mini cooper with a satisfied smile.
He never got to find the ones responsible for the deaths of his parents, but it didn't matter. As he got home, he packed his things. He disassembled his MP5, took off his balaclava and got in his car again. He was going to Paralake City. He had relatives there, and just as he got there, he was invited to an organization called Strong Ties. He joined the organization, but it was pure weakness. They said they wanted to be criminal, but it wasn't for the sake of killing; only for the sake of money. Money was good though, and there was protection, so he sticked around. One day, his drugs were gone, but the rest of the organization's drugs were still there. He needed his batch, and got pissed, so he stole his organization's drugs and blamed it on the police. They believed him. Hah. He also shot one of the members for pissing him off.
He then joined the Royal British Mafia. These guys were actually made of something. People knew how to aim, how to shoot. He got himself some good friends in there. Unfortunately, the organization disbanded. Shortly after, he heard of an organization called Hotline: Paralake. It seemed like they had just the thing he was looking for. The urge to kill. The urge to hurt people, just like he had his whole life. He called them, and he was accepted. He had to choose a mask though; which was perfect. Another identity. He had a good eye for shooting, so why not choose a fox? He called the mask 'Rick'. That was his name from now on whenever he had his mask on. Now he's hoping to find his real identity there.
Calle Valentino was born in the ghettos of Baltimore, MD. He grew up as a loner. His parents were busy enough growing and taking drugs. Their debt to the local drugdealer was enormous. They were threatened with death every day. There were aggressive and loud arguments all the time. To make the child stop crying, they fed him with drugs. He basically became a drug addict from day one. As he grew up, he engaged in more and more criminal activities. His father gave him his first pistol at the age of 7. He was so fascinated by the weapon and obtained the tools for making bullets from his circle of acquaintances which was very select. He learned the art of manufacturing weaponry and ammunition, and as he grew up, he manufactured various weaponry, teaching himself how to make big weapons such as rifles. He made himself a rule, that for every new gun he learned to manufacture, he'd test it on an armed human target (bear in mind he was mentally unstable due to the drugs he had been taking since his birth). He teamed up with a previous locksmith at the age of 20 and learned how to pick a lock. With time, he became skilled within assault and burglary. One day after Calle came home from a job, the father told him "It is within human nature to have an urge to hurt people. It's instinct. There's nothing wrong following your instinct".
The day after when Calle woke up, he came inside the kitchen only to see two heads detached from their bodies on the table. A letter was right next to the head, written in blood "If you don't want the same destiny, pay your and your parents' debts".
Maybe Calle didn't have a close relationship to his parents like other families, but they were his parents after all. He looked at the letter, then sighed. He went inside his room, opening his drawer. He took on his gloves and assembled a MP5 out of various weapon parts. He then assembled a silenced M9 beretta and put a black balaclava in his pocket. He went to the local dealer and interrogated him through the use of cohersive means. This being, tourturing him till he gave up information about the location of the warehouse where they stashed all their drugs. He did not know the location, but he knew some people that could know. Calle found these people and interrogated them, and it didn't last long till he knew the location of their headquarters.
Calle drove to the headquarters in his father's red mini cooper. He parked behind the warehouse, and as a male approached him, Calle stepped out of the car, shooting the male in the face with his silenced beretta. "Low-life" he grunted. As the lock to the backdoor was unlocked, Calle sprayed with his MP5 through the door. The door opened, almost by itself, and behind it lied a dead body. The alarm went off. "The sound of weakness. These sons of bitches are going to pay". There were a lot of shouts inside the warehouse. He quickly went through the door and saw four people taking the shotguns hanging on the wall. As one of them aimed towards Calle, Calle sprayed down all four of them, hitting the prepared one first. As more and more people came, he took them out one after one. Blood was everywhere. He heard footsteps behind him. He quickly turned around, bashing his butt of his gun against the head of the foe. He smiled as he eliminated his foes in different, disgusting ways. This is who he is. Soon, the warehouse was full of bodies, but empty of life. He found a room where the harvest was stashed. He holstered his MP5 and took two bags of cocaine. He put the bags in the trunk of his mini cooper, and then he went inside again, setting the stash on fire with a molotov cocktail. He drove away in his mini cooper with a satisfied smile.
He never got to find the ones responsible for the deaths of his parents, but it didn't matter. As he got home, he packed his things. He disassembled his MP5, took off his balaclava and got in his car again. He was going to Paralake City. He had relatives there, and just as he got there, he was invited to an organization called Strong Ties. He joined the organization, but it was pure weakness. They said they wanted to be criminal, but it wasn't for the sake of killing; only for the sake of money. Money was good though, and there was protection, so he sticked around. One day, his drugs were gone, but the rest of the organization's drugs were still there. He needed his batch, and got pissed, so he stole his organization's drugs and blamed it on the police. They believed him. Hah. He also shot one of the members for pissing him off.
He then joined the Royal British Mafia. These guys were actually made of something. People knew how to aim, how to shoot. He got himself some good friends in there. Unfortunately, the organization disbanded. Shortly after, he heard of an organization called Hotline: Paralake. It seemed like they had just the thing he was looking for. The urge to kill. The urge to hurt people, just like he had his whole life. He called them, and he was accepted. He had to choose a mask though; which was perfect. Another identity. He had a good eye for shooting, so why not choose a fox? He called the mask 'Rick'. That was his name from now on whenever he had his mask on. Now he's hoping to find his real identity there.
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