Post by phil on Jul 3, 2014 23:52:38 GMT
Phil Alexander Black
35
Male
Bi-Sexual
mercenary
Group
Ex-Miner
who's behind you
diggin' deeper and deeper
Do you need something done? Then I'm the person You'll want to hire. You want effective that's me. I'll take on any challenge you want me to with gutso, but Let me tell you that I'll sooner turn about and stab you in the back if the pay's better.
Money, guns and a few choice pokemon are usually the only things I even bother keeping close to me. I don't like cats, I don't like women, I don't like men just as much as I don't like women. What's the point of feeling rain if you're underground either. And Guess what: don't like anything that isn't Money, guns or the pokemon I keep with me.
Fear? Fear is a funny word, most people have common fears like the dark or maybe they are afraid of spiders. Me? I'm afraid of getting crushed, of being forgotten. Of being walked on. Hell I don't like being in super cramped spaces either.
But above all I fear being alone.
Money, guns and a few choice pokemon are usually the only things I even bother keeping close to me. I don't like cats, I don't like women, I don't like men just as much as I don't like women. What's the point of feeling rain if you're underground either. And Guess what: don't like anything that isn't Money, guns or the pokemon I keep with me.
Fear? Fear is a funny word, most people have common fears like the dark or maybe they are afraid of spiders. Me? I'm afraid of getting crushed, of being forgotten. Of being walked on. Hell I don't like being in super cramped spaces either.
But above all I fear being alone.
a little background check
Dedication
Certainty
Revenge
Thick these are in the life of many, thicker yet still in the life of the trodden. Such gifted hatred born in the small town of Oakendale; given breath to a child of miners. Not even a day out of the womb was his fate already decided. The mines. His father, his mother, his sister, his uncle. They all worked there; they wold die there too. They worked there before the conditions were right, he wasn't raised by family. He was raised by the trodden. Those that corporations don't notice that they are stepping on until they're already far ahead of them.
His school experiance was like every other kid's in the town. They were taught about the outside world, told of the wonders that they would maybe see there. Then there was the mines. No one got away from them. not even the teachers. Summer? The mines. Phil didn't fully go to the mines until he was out of school. He had it lucky. Some of the others already were in it since they were 15. Normal laws didn't apply here, people kept their heads down and other's didn't bother checking who among them was perhaps the next generations walkers. Those that step on the fallen.
He wasn't going to be like them. He wasn't going to keep his head down like the others. He was going to stand up and make a difference. That's how he lost his arms. Gas-pockets, nasty stuff. Can incinerate entire men and only took an arm? He was lucky. They got the mine up to code really fast and gave him a new arm. Mining corporation's finest advances in mining technology. The miners were given masks, full head gear and protective stuff. He got the arm and a full suit. Kept the fire out, kept the heat out. Hydration sprayers on the inside if you get thirsty. You could work longer without having to rest.
Time was their currency and we paid it in blood.
Gaspockets, nasty things. Can kill many men if you're not careful. After losing an arm you'd be more careful. Of course after losing your friends you would be even more so. But it wasn't a gas pocket that caused phil to lose his friends, his family or make his company go under.
No something else was the cause.
Money was the cause, a bomb was the effect. Death was the after image. Tackled by one of his longest living friends, torn away from the explosion by sheer luck He was allowed to hold on to the last few gasping breaths his friend had.
Live a good life.
He had to turn away from all of that. He had to turn away from the mines. The police only found ten bodies; he was never found. They thought him dead. They thought wrong.
In fact he was never more alive.
Given purpose, given understanding. Gas-pockets? No they didn't go off like that. They didn't make that sound. There was no sirens blaring about the potential. It was a set up and he wanted to know why. He was willing to use five years of his life for it. Becoming a mercenary was hell of a lot better than being a miner.
You usually ate better too.
Certainty
Revenge
Thick these are in the life of many, thicker yet still in the life of the trodden. Such gifted hatred born in the small town of Oakendale; given breath to a child of miners. Not even a day out of the womb was his fate already decided. The mines. His father, his mother, his sister, his uncle. They all worked there; they wold die there too. They worked there before the conditions were right, he wasn't raised by family. He was raised by the trodden. Those that corporations don't notice that they are stepping on until they're already far ahead of them.
His school experiance was like every other kid's in the town. They were taught about the outside world, told of the wonders that they would maybe see there. Then there was the mines. No one got away from them. not even the teachers. Summer? The mines. Phil didn't fully go to the mines until he was out of school. He had it lucky. Some of the others already were in it since they were 15. Normal laws didn't apply here, people kept their heads down and other's didn't bother checking who among them was perhaps the next generations walkers. Those that step on the fallen.
He wasn't going to be like them. He wasn't going to keep his head down like the others. He was going to stand up and make a difference. That's how he lost his arms. Gas-pockets, nasty stuff. Can incinerate entire men and only took an arm? He was lucky. They got the mine up to code really fast and gave him a new arm. Mining corporation's finest advances in mining technology. The miners were given masks, full head gear and protective stuff. He got the arm and a full suit. Kept the fire out, kept the heat out. Hydration sprayers on the inside if you get thirsty. You could work longer without having to rest.
Time was their currency and we paid it in blood.
Gaspockets, nasty things. Can kill many men if you're not careful. After losing an arm you'd be more careful. Of course after losing your friends you would be even more so. But it wasn't a gas pocket that caused phil to lose his friends, his family or make his company go under.
No something else was the cause.
Money was the cause, a bomb was the effect. Death was the after image. Tackled by one of his longest living friends, torn away from the explosion by sheer luck He was allowed to hold on to the last few gasping breaths his friend had.
Live a good life.
He had to turn away from all of that. He had to turn away from the mines. The police only found ten bodies; he was never found. They thought him dead. They thought wrong.
In fact he was never more alive.
Given purpose, given understanding. Gas-pockets? No they didn't go off like that. They didn't make that sound. There was no sirens blaring about the potential. It was a set up and he wanted to know why. He was willing to use five years of his life for it. Becoming a mercenary was hell of a lot better than being a miner.
You usually ate better too.
behind the glass mask
Tyrus
⤷Re. Ev. Op. Racoon City ⤷Vector ⤷Black, phil
