Name: Alexander Rust Ezrin
Name Meaning: I always liked the name Alex. Rust is the middle name
of a friend of mine. Bob Ezrin is the producer for Pink Floyd, and it
sounds wicked cool.
Age: 46, though he looks 30
Date of Birth: Aug. 1st
Astrological Sign: Leo
Bloodtype: O+
Alignment: Technically neutral because he's against both gangs, but
he kinda complicated. He thinks he's on God's side that that all he
does is for good. But the things he does seem really evil... It's all
up to perspective.
Strengths: He is frighteningly proficient with guns of all types.
He's very rich, and with nothing better to do he was studied various
martial arts. He's smart, but not overly so.
Weaknesses: Alex has some emotional problems. Stress, anger, and
fear all swell inside him, gnawing endlessly at him. He keeps a hard
appearance and lets none of it show, but when alone he is very weak
and has often cried for little reason. Among his mind problems is
severe insomnia.
Likes: He likes action, explosions, and large machines. He loves
the feel of fur and the smell of raspberry. He's a fan of fine Rock &
Roll.
Dislikes: Quite homophobic, truly hates the idea of a guy kissing
anything aside from a girl and dosn't get off on lesbians like most
guys do (dosn't get off on much, actually).
Greatest Fear: His greatest fear is that, in the end, he is fighting
for the wrong cause. And, among other things, monkeys. He has a
chronic fear of lesser primates (he thinks they're conspiring against
him).
Motivation: Alex received word from sources that the two warring gangs of the city are run by Satan and God. Alex is very theist and simply refuses to
believe that God would do such a thing. Thus he has dedicated the
rest of his life to the destruction of both these gangs. If he can do
that, he can prove that those 'rumors' are false. Plus it gives him
an excuse to use big guns. If he were to discover that this man really was God, and that these stories are true, he's probably have about three mental break downs at once (and a forth when he gets back home). Suicide? Comatose? It's
impossible to tell what would happen to him.
Favorite Food: Raspberries. His first wife (now dead) often wore
raspberry-scented perfume, a scent that he loved very much. The taste
and smell of raspberries reminds him of his late wife and makes him
happy.
Least Favorite Food: His second wife (a divorce that ended with a
gun fight) wore apple-scented perfume. So ya, he's not a fan of
apples.
Personality:
Alex, on the outside, appears to be a very strong person. He's proud
of himself and his organization, and is at times arrogent about both.
Anyone insulting him should expect him to stand up for himself and
all he stands for with harsh... harshness. When he has a target that
needs dealing with, he first tries the safe approaches - legal
threats, bribes, negotiation. He tries his best not to label a target
red, which requires killing. But when he does, it means he has no
other choice. He hires no hit men and kills by himself, and he does
so without hesitation.
This is all, of course, the exterior. On the inside, he is a very
burnt and torn character. The loss of his wife left him without much
happiness or hope. The repeated killings have taken a tole on his
mind with supressed guilt and self-hatred. He hates to kill, dispite
how much he acts otherwise. Regret of his actions has given him
severe insomnia, and he often goes days without sleep. He has mild
schitzophrenia (it came from his mother, though he dosn't realize it),
which means he occationally hears a few voices and sees a few odd
things (which attributes to his chronic yet comical fear of monkeys,
hehe).
He and his late wife planned on children, and the fact that he'll never have any didn't sit so well with his subconcious. Whatever. He loves kids, but of course has no idea how to handle them.
Appearance: (picture) He's white, with black hair cut short. His eyes are red. He's about 6'7'', of lean muscle mass and flawless skin. Often wears
dark blue business suit thing (if anyone watched Yu-Gi-Oh, think of
Kiaba's outfit). He stands and walks with an honor and pride that
seems to radiate from him. He often has an arrogant smirk, though it
is usually forced on.
Social Status: 100 million dollars assures that he's very popular
and powerful. But he has no true friends.
Love Life: He did, once. Tia, his first wife, was the love of his
life. He honestly believed her to be his soul mate. But in a boating
accident she died. Yvonne and Kiara made his second and third wives,
but both divorced. He is no longer seeking a "significant other".
Family, Friends: He has no true friends. The closest thing to it is
his chauffeur, Eric, who helps him often. His older sister has moved
away to... no where in particular. They don't talk much. There's this
guy Serio that he talks to alot, but they're hardly friends.
~Eric Kerry: Mulatto, long red hair, 5 feet in hight, green eyes and
glasses. Very calm and collected in character, he drives Alex's limo
(Alex has a chronic fear of driving into piles of assorted fruits).
He drives very well and has a near-spotless driving record. Though he
only knows Alex because he was hired as a chaffuer, he quickly grew
to repect him. Since he has no living family, he has decided to put
his trust and faith in Alex. He's not very good with a gun or in
fights, but he'd defend Alex to the death anyway.
~Serio: White, pale blue hair, blue eyes. Alex has never met Serio in
real life and knows little about him. This is because... Well, Serio
dosn't really exsist. It's unsure what he is really, he could be an
angel, a demon, or maybe a fragment of Alex's mind. Alex can't even
remember where they met. All he knows is that Serio calls him and
sends him messeges about important events, warns him of trouble, and
gives him advice when he needs it.
Birthplace: A home-grown New Eden resident.
Current Residence: He lives in a huge, million-dollar mansion in
the outskirts of the city. It's multi-roomed, complete with indoor
pool, helicopter landing pad, and all those other "I'm rich" things
that come with mansions.
History:
Alex was born into a loving family of two parents and one (older) sister. His parents owned the Harsh Angel Weapons Company when it was just starting out, and so from his early teen years Alex was well acquainted with guns and weapons. But don't worry about that, he honestly was a good kid. He went to a private elementary school and then a public high school. He had trouble making friends and socializing, and as a result got into a lot of fights. Added to that, his mother suddenly died of cancer and his father was slowly becoming alcoholic. A doomed path now presented itself to Alex, and he prepared to venture down it - until he met Tia. Love at first sight, it really was. Tia saved him be introducing to him a very important theme - God. Suddenly Alex knew right from wrong, and he was saved. He even managed to get his father off
alcohol.
Soon after high school, Alex and Tia got married and both attended
Eden College. Alex studied various forms of law, business, and
physics (though he went nowhere with that). After college, Alex took
over his father's weapons business and gave it a less sacrilegious
name - Dragon Fire Products. Within a year or new weapon designs and
business moves, Alex made his first million. At that time, he and Tia
were coming to their five-year anniversary. To celebrate, they bought
a boat and took a vacation to New Zealand. But on their way home
something happened. Out of nowhere a mighty storm attacked them, and
their boat was soon destroyed. Alex managed to get to a raft and get
to shore. But Tia was never heard from again.
He spent two years searching for his wife, but in vain. She was gone.
Without her life wasn't worth living. Three suicide attempts
followed, but each time something stopped him. I mean, literally,
something stopped him - jumping off a building landed him in a truck
transporting mulch, the drugs he tried to use were manufactured wrong
and had no effect, and when he tried to hang himself the rope simply
snapped in half.
Something stopped him from dying, and he decided that there must be
more to his life. He must have a mission. So he continued. He wasn't
quite sure why he made those other two marriages - it was perhaps
because he simply needed someone. He divorced because none of those
wives did the job properly.
Now he is a few billion dollars richer, and quite a few years older.
He has had serious opposition to his company and, secretly, has had
quite a few kills. He's quite good at cover-ups and has yet to be
caught.
Writing Sample:
"Alex, I'm serious this time. You can't keep doing this, you're going
to be caught!"
"Serio, I have been doing this for years without a single flaw. I am
quite confident that there will be no variation on this one."
"But she isn't like your normal targets! You can't do this one!"
Alex turned off his cell phone, hanging up on Serio. Inwardly he
admitted that this girl was definetly a first. She had a special
finesse in her movements that Alex had not seen before. But strange
targets never stopped him before.
He reloaded his pistol. He was closing in on the girl, and she was
growing tired. If he played the game just long enough, she would
provide no further resistance. He leapt out from behind the wall and,
aiming forward, charged to his target.
But his target was alert and already had her gun ready. She had
stolen it from Alex - it was the PR-7, a pistol-sized rocket
launcher. Obviously not something you want aimed at you. She fired,
and a small rocket screamed towards Alex. Alex swore as he dodged the
rocket; it sailed past him and harmlessly blew a hole in the wall.
The girl prepared to reload her gun but was too late - within
seconds, Alex had his gun on her neck. It was a PB-34, a normal
pistol. Nothing special, but it's not something you want aimed at
your neck.
At Alex's command, the girl placed the gun on the floor and raised
her hands into the air.
"Now move to the window," he said, and she did as she was told.
"Open it."
She hesitated, and Alex pressed his pistol against the back of her
head. With trembling fingers, she slowly opened the window and looked
down. They were ten stories in the air, and it was midnight. The
streets were empty. If she were to fall...
The next morning, the police had the chore of cleaning up a
splattered body off the ground. From what they could gather it had no
wounds, no signs of struggle. An ordinary suicide, as far as they
could tell.
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